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Goodbye Baby Rabbit

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A Treasured Life

Some of my most memorable experiences have been in helping an animal to transition to death .

Yesterday, my fiance and I were doing a 100 mile bike ride. It was a beautiful day. Ten miles into the ride, we saw something small wriggling in the road. It was a baby rabbit. We weren’t sure if he had been hit by a car as he had no marks on him. But he had fallen into a puddle and was soaking wet and cold.

David held him and gave him healing as I put the bikes to the side of the road. Then, I gave him healing too. He was such a tiny little scrap.

David could feel him warming up and said that he thought he would be okay. But I knew. There’s a feeling, a feeling that cannot be described, as the life force leaves an animal.

After about ten minutes, I asked David to give me the rabbit and I would put him deep into the hedgerow. As I laid him down, I felt his life force leave him

His tiny little hold on life had gone.

We felt gifted to have shared his last moments, knowing that he felt love and caring that had nothing to do with him being a rabbit and us being human.

Other riders cycled past us, unaware of the amazing moment the three of us shared. The experience touched us both and we were quiet for many miles.

It is so easy, at times like that, to wonder what life is all about. What is the point of such a young life being cut short? Of course, we can never know that in this lifetime. But, to me, what matters most is the kindness and compassion that we show to every life-form. Each little creature marks its own unique blueprint on the world. They are all important. Animals bring so much into our world, they soften the edges of human fixation on what is or isn’t real. To me, in that compassionate moment, that was as real as it gets.

Never be afraid to help an animal transition to the other side. As a healer, it is the most treasured thing that we can do for them, to take away their last moments of fear and replace them with love and kindness, thus preparing them for however long their journey is to the next realm.

I’m not good enough!

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Do you feel as if you aren’t good enough?

If you didn’t know it already, I am an experienced NLP Coach. For the last few years, I have been helping people, some of them, indeed many of them, that have horses and have issues with their relationship with their horse, yes, but mostly they come to me with issues that they desperately want to change.

Now, after some considerable years, I can truly say that the biggest issue that people have within themselves is feeling that they are not good enough.

Sally came to me recently, with a problem of never being able to finish anything she started. She said to me, ‘I am multi-skilled, lots of qualifications and all that, but I have never really managed to complete anything in my life. Now, I’m reaching that age where I am wondering if it is too late. I feel a failure and I am scared to start something new in case I don’t complete that either.’

Well, my first answer was of course that it is never too late to make positive changes. Not feeling good enough can manifest itself in so many different ways. I remember when I first got Jack, my horse, and I wasn’t 100% sure of the best way to deal with his behavioural problems. So, I asked people at the stable yard for their advice and opinions. Oh dear, looking back, that wasn’t my best move, because the conflicting advice that I received was utterly confusing. Thinking back, 28+ years, there wasn’t one piece of advice that would have been right for me and my horse.

We used to have a trainer come to the yard and, for whatever reason; it appeared that everyone worshipped her. One day she offered to ‘sort him out’ for me, as I was having problems getting him to jump a small set of jumps in the indoor school. What I didn’t realise then, at that moment, was that Jack was a one woman horse. Despite the problems we were having together, he absolutely had set his mind that no one else was supposed to ride him.

As soon as the lady got her rather ample butt in the saddle, he made her look like a total idiot. He refused to move. She started to lose her temper; well yes of course she would because Jack was ridiculing her reputation as a trainer. For a short while, I squirmed. Who was I to call her out – she knew what she was doing didn’t she? Well, whether she did or not, she had no right to bully my horse. I stood up and quietly went to his side and looked at her. She made eye contact and I asked her to please get off. Thankfully, she did and I took Jack back to his stable, removed his tack and let him out in the field.

I wasn’t great at self-reflection back then. I just knew that the way she had handled him was wrong. I started to do things my way. Did I know what I was doing? Hell no! But, what I did know is what felt right and what felt wrong. I was laughed at, I was ridiculed, I overheard conversations laughingly berating my skill as a rider/handler and my horse, in their exact words, was ‘crap’

For years I battled to do what was right for him, as people laughed at everything we did. We had a ton of failures – although I don’t believe in failure, I believe in trying lots of things until you find what works. Eventually, we had the last laugh as we built a fantastic relationship and proceeded to beat everyone in competition.

But, feeling that you are not good enough is a major issue for so many.

It can manifest in any of the following:-

  • Self-sabotage
  • Feeling like a fraud
  • Lack of self-esteem
  • Lack of confidence
  • Afraid of success or failure
  • Constantly seeking the opinion of others
  • Constantly seeking the approval of others
  • Not trusting your own judgements or decisions
  • Believing what others tell you about yourself (negatively)
  • Lack of assertive skills
  • Not being able to set boundaries
  • Emotional eating

There are many more, but these are the main ones that I personally see as a coach. So, what can you do about it, if you think that you don’t feel good enough?

In my experience, the most powerful thing you can do to get started in changing your mindset, is to start journaling. You will know when these ‘bad’ feelings come up; you may feel unsettled, out of sorts, miserable, distracted or angry. Write these feelings out, and write out what happened prior to these feelings erupting. The objective is to find the trigger and then dig down to get rid of the belief that is not serving you as an adult. In your journaling, ask yourself lots of questions.

Let me give you an example:-

For no apparent reason, you ‘suddenly’ start feeling down. You might have felt okay an hour ago, maybe even a few moments ago, but then bam, just like that, the bad feelings came up.

In your journal, write down exactly what happened in the time before you felt bad. Sophie shared with me, her first entry when she started her journal

“I feel bad, why do I feel bad? I feel upset. What happened? I was having a conversation with my mum, I had felt okay.

How about the conversation with my mum, what were we talking about? Oh, I remember, I was telling her that I was thinking about learning how to play the piano. I had looked into lessons because I wanted to find an outlet for my creativity. But, why did that make me feel bad? Oh heck, now I remember what she had said when I told her. She had laughed and said ‘why do you want to do that, you won’t stick at it?’ I had replied that I wanted to use my creativity and she had said ‘I don’t remember you ever being creative; it was your brother that was good at creating things. You won’t see it through, plus, don’t be silly, you can’t really afford it can you’

I feel sick! I did not realise that my mum does this ALL THE TIME. I don’t look forward to talking to her because I almost always feel bad afterwards. OMG, this is horrible, I need to change this, how can I change this? I want to be able to tell my mum what I am doing without her criticizing me, even if she does it playfully, it still hurts. I am going to talk to Jan tomorrow and see how I am best to deal with this.

I feel angry because I am 43, I should be able to make my own decisions without feeling that I am a little child who doesn’t know what I am doing! Don’t be silly!!! How dare she! I am so angry right now. She has no right to treat me like a child, I am grown up, with a good job, I have my own house, I have managed to make these decisions on my own. This is not my problem but I do need to learn how to overcome it because I realise that this happens most times we talk on the phone.”

Sophie did go on to say a lot more but some of it was deeply personal so we I have abbreviated her responses.

Every time I feel a negative emotion stirring, I title a page ‘Self-Reflect’ and start writing. As a healing process it is second to none. Seeing your written word takes away some of the power. The more you do, the more ‘stuff’ you will be able to process and let go of.

Now, let’s just mention the horses here. Your horse is deeply connected to your emotions. If you are feeling unhappy, angry, and frustrated or anything negative, your horse will react accordingly. If the bad feelings continue, then there will be issues along the road between you and your horse. Horses are excellent healers, but it isn’t their job to take away our stress or our problems. Their role is to guide us to take action, so we become more whole so they can relax and enjoy being with us. I have quite often worked with a horse where the healing has switched to the owner. There have been some wonderful moments where tears are shed and the horse turns to the owner and starts to nuzzle or groom her. I have seen highly difficult behavioural problems disappear once the owner has released whatever is holding her back.

Your horse deserves the best you that you can be. You owe it to him at the very least, if you care about his well-being and you are actively seeking to improve your relationship. The spin-off is a great bond with your horse and also much healthier relationships with the people in your life.

You are good enough, you just need to believe it on a core level.

My Old Horse

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As your horse becomes older, you may find that your relationship changes, it evolves. For me, despite the fact that, at 35, Jack is not the horse he once was, I feel far more protective of him, committed to making certain that his health and well-being is always foremost in my actions. He has Cushings now, his coat looks like an old worn out blanket with tufts of hair where he has rubbed his itchy skin, symptomatic of the syndrome. He has poor bladder control and his teeth are so worn that he can no longer eat hay. It sounds awful but, with the help of some good soft food, plenty of fibre and three meals a day, he has kept his weight and he never fails to trot up to the gate whickering for his food.

I am grateful that he is at home and not on a yard full of people. Grateful, because I know for sure that he and I would be judged. I would be ‘told’ that he should be put to sleep, put him out of his misery! But, there is no misery, he is a happy horse. He has no idea that he is no longer a poster pin up horse but he is still handsome to me. He and I will know when it is time for him to go and we will make that decision together. He is 35 now, 35! I can’t believe he is still with me, it is incredible!

A couple of months ago, I found myself overwhelmed by the look of relief on Jack’s face when I discovered him in a field not his own. There looked like some disruption by his gate – one of the dopey farm helpers probably herding sheep through or something and somehow let Jack out. He is usually in a two acre field but now found himself at the top of a hilly nine acre field. He looked lost and confused, staring over the wall into the distance, unsure of quite what he was supposed to do next. Then he saw me coming up the hill….

He was so, so, so glad to see me.

He shoved his big old head into my hands and whickered as I gave him a carrot and told him not to worry. I had his back. I have always had his back and I always will. I put his head collar on and asked him to follow me.

As I led him back up the hill, he followed me stiffly; oh he was so stiff (clearly he had been charging around). He needed a rest, and a carrot, every now and then as we slowly made our way across the field, but it was a steep hill back up to his paddock and he found it hard. The connection between us in these 20 minutes or so left me wrung out with emotion. He seemed to be inside my soul and I knew what he was trying to tell me. I literally hurt inside, like a big ball of emotion bursting through my body and soul. 28 years of a shared life, it was like we were one and he was telling me how much he loved and appreciated my gentleness and understanding. He was telling me that today he was tired and that, one day, he would be too tired to carry on. It wasn’t time yet, he would make the spring but we both knew that the next winter, either he would make the decision or I would have to.

Jack depends on me – he is a bit deaf, eyesight not so good and needing routine like he never needed it before. My big strong dark bay horse is a little grey old man now. He has shrunk in his body and aura, but the essence of who he is still calls to me because he remembers the fun we had, the battles of strength and personality, the happy days of glory and winning and the days when we just weren’t on the same page.

Back in his own field, a nice warm lunch and some anti- inflammatory powders and he was  soon back to normal within 48 hours, but I know we’re getting closer to the time to say goodbye.

A 28 year relationship, sometimes rocky, frustrating and difficult as cruel, judgemental people berated him (and me) as we struggled to bond in the early days and his educational progress was challenging to say the least. For the first few years, I had to stand up for him when others told me he was a crap horse and would never amount to anything. But we had the last laugh because we grew together, succeeded from the platform of our bond and my belief in him. For a time, we were unbeatable, not because he was a super talented horse and I was a brilliant rider. I never thought of myself as anything other than an adequate rider but what we had was nothing to do with skill, it was everything to do with the relationship.

We had a relationship that people envied. I couldn’t help that, it was a part of who Jack was and a part of who I was. It was two halves of a jigsaw coming together because together we were one unit and we couldn’t help it if people around us didn’t like that because they didn’t have it with their horse. We were insular, we were self-contained and we didn’t seek advice from the usual horse channels. We still are all of those things. We only need each other to be whole. He depends on me and I continue to protect and take care of him as he edges ever closer to the long gallop to the sky.

Jack was my first horse and he will be my last horse. I’ve been so lucky to have shared my life, for so long, with such an incredible character. He has been, and continues to be, the best teacher of life………

Jan
Healing Horses ……

Transitions with Horses

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Those that ride horses understand about how transitions work

Halt to walk – walk to trot – trot to walk – trot to canter and so on and so forth. Not every horse can manage smooth transitions, and not every owner can teach their horse how to effect smooth transitions. But we muddle through.

But what about our emotional transitions? Are you aware of how frequently you are in emotional transition with your horse? Transitions are created by change and, with change there is always a beginning, a middle and an end. But, do you realise that all change begins with an end? And it is this ending that usually creates stress and resistance in us.

Human beings spend their lives ‘in motion’ rarely stopping to evaluate why they do what they do, and whether they are truly happy. Normally, it takes a life changing event or trauma to enable us to stop long enough to really see what is happening. There is no one definition for happiness. What is it, what does it look like? What makes us happy? Is it different for everyone and how long does it last? I can’t answer any of those questions because yes, of course, it is indefinable.

One morning, a beautiful warm sunny October morning, I was out in the field poo picking. I stopped and stood next to my old horse Jack. At that time, my horse had been with me for over twenty years, although now it is getting dangerously close to a 30 year milestone. It has been a wonderful journey with him. He has driven me nuts. He has been my best friend, there have been times I wish I had never had him. You know, pretty much a normal relationship. But, this day, as I looked at him, I found myself becoming emotional and I wondered what that was about. Tears rolled down my face as I sobbed with great gulping breaths.

Back in the house, I started to think about all of the transitions I had experienced with Jack. I suddenly realised that somehow, I had failed to acknowledge an ending. At this juncture, I hadn’t ridden Jack for about two years. One day he just said he didn’t want it anymore and I quietly respected his decision. It was no big deal. Or so I thought …

Now, I understood, as tears streamed down my face, that I had this morning suddenly acknowledged my grief at not sharing this experience with my friend any longer. I remembered the mad days of haring across corn fields in the winter, fighting and struggling for control as I careered round a cross country course yelling at him to slow down. I recalled the smell of him, the feel of his strong young body, his shiny, shiny coat and the sound of his hard excited breathing. I remembered how much I had loved being with him and how grateful I had been for having this wonderful, confusing and often frustrating animal in my life. How awesome he had looked, hard and fit and clipped out and how he used to watch me as I walked around the field. Now he is old horse, with a dipped back and a grey face.

That moment, I felt like I was drowning

My life with Jack replayed in every single minute detail. Twenty years of love and life, twenty years of constant change, twenty years of being my best friend and teacher. Twenty years of being with me as other relationships came and went, dogs came and went. How many dogs had he shared my life with? And now… here he is … a grumpy old horse, covered in mud and happy only to eat the grass and get excited about the hunt passing by or his breakfast!

Where did that time go?

When was the LAST time I rode him. I don’t remember there being one particular day when I took off his saddle and said, ‘that’s it, I am not riding him anymore’, it just kind of happened. Now, I feel sad about that.

Maybe I wasn’t yet ready to acknowledge that ending. Maybe I was afraid to face the fact that Jack is an old horse. Maybe …. I just don’t know.

So what is my message to you today?

I guess it is about living in the moment, appreciating what your horse is giving you right now, even if that might not feel like a good thing. One day you will look back on it and wish that you had it again. I am lucky. Jack is still with me. He is thirty five years old this year. I highly doubt he will go through another winter as Cushing’s has got him too and is slowly ravaging his body. I sold his saddle last year and it was like handing over a part of me, it was so hard. He will be my last horse.

But, I live in the moment with Jack every day from now until he decides he needs to move to new pastures. For now I embrace my grief at losing a part of my friend that I hadn’t realised was so important to our relationship. Transitions, every day, without fail, they are there. See them, feel them and embrace them. You never know when the last transition will be, well, the last.

Jan
Healing Horses ……

A Moment of Grace

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A Moment of Grace

In June 2008, I lost my dad with cancer. Two days prior to dad’s passing, my horse Danny was diagnosed with secondary laminitis in his back feet – caused by Cushing’s syndrome – and, a few weeks later, I folded a business partnership one year into its infancy.

Like a spooked horse, I shied away from the obstacles coming at me and I refused to carry on until someone [my inner self?] gave me the courage to turn and face my truths. I wanted to rip off the strong bit that was holding me back, and throw down the heavy saddle that was strangling my life force. Like a beautiful white horse, I wanted to gallop through the sea, playing with the surf, embracing my energy and playfulness of being. I wanted to be free. I wanted to be free. Don’t we all want to be free?

For three months I nursed my laminitic horse with a military precision. At one point the vet was ready to throw in the towel, the general consensus was that I was wasting my time with a horse that would probably never ‘come right’. Those dark wet days, spent hunched over, poulticing, bandaging and duck taping my horses stinking, abscessing feet were some of the worst I can remember. My smile had slithered down a drain cover. I was bitten all over by the bugs of frustration, confusion, anger and pain. Some nights I just collapsed on a bucket and sobbed my heart out. But I never gave up – though I often felt like it.

Danny was on anti-inflammatory drugs for two months. Each time I tried to wean him off, he became unsound again. I avowed to myself that if he hadn’t turned the corner within three months, I would have to let him go. Strangely, after the initial stages, Danny always seemed surprisingly cheerful, even when he was clearly uncomfortable. When the laminitis first struck I had asked him why it had happened and he replied that he wanted me to take more notice of him! He certainly got his wish!

He had always been a weird horse

Before he came to me, he had been shut in a field, on his own, for two years, at the back of a nightclub. Apparently some nights he would escape and visit the club. He likes people.

Danny knew nothing about life – but he had a cunning plan! Right from the offset it was clear that he his mission was to teach me stuff that I clearly didn’t know enough about. Spooking, kicking, fear issues, phobias, rearing, bucking, throwing me off, saddle issues – you name it, he gave it to me and then some!

Day after miserable, wet, dark day passed, I woke with a brick the size of Africa in my heart. The pointless death of my dad, ate away at me like the cancer that had robbed him of his life. Trudging the 100 yards down to the stable block, each morning, wondering what would greet me. My heart would drop down to the depths of the underworld if Danny was less sound than the day before, which, in reality, happened a lot. My body was stiff and sore and my mind felt broken.

One horrible grey evening, I was bent over, my back screaming in pain, pouring rain trickling into my eyes and ears, as I fought to hold a hind hoof up. Three times a poultice slammed down onto the ground. Danny couldn’t help it, he was in pain, but I felt my anger rising. I stepped away with hopelessness in my heart, dark, without hope and a constant feeling of loss. But, as I backed away and stopped, just for a moment, I felt a wave of calm wash over me. Feeling the vibrancy and heat of this energy travelling from the top of my head, down to the roots of my feet, I acknowledged that ‘someone’ was trying to help me, attempting to reassure me that everything would be OK. Would it? Silently, I simply absorbed this wonderful feeling. Then I looked back at Danny and told him that he needed to help me to help him, and he did.

Gradually, against all expectations, the abscess healed. All four of Danny’s mangled up, rotting frogs shriveled up and died and, as the old sole crumbled and broke away, it was replaced with beautiful new smooth white horn underneath. The farrier – who has been like a rock throughout – told me these were positive signs, and continually reminded me of the progress we were making.

It’s a long story, but at last we turned the corner – together.

Slowly I weaned him off the anti inflammatory drugs and little by little he came sound. Calculating the risks, I started to put him out in the starvation paddock for short periods, starting with half an hour and building up to all day over a period of a month. He stayed sound, so I began walking him for ten minutes initially, and we were soon walking several miles a day in hand.

One special morning, I took Danny for a walk up the road. It was lovely to feel him huffing alongside me. Listening to the soft clump of his unshod hooves on the concrete, I walked with my left hand cupping one of his ears, and marveled at how he moved, with only the slightest hint of direction from my hand, when cars need to pass in the narrow lane. We stopped to talk to an old lady and her grandson. Danny snuffled the little persons face with such curiosity and gentleness, and we all laughed.

When we returned back to the field, I stood with my hands in my pockets and watched as Danny and his bossy little pal, Toady, grazed contentedly side by side. The day was bright, sunny & warm; there was a gentle breeze lifting my unwashed hair, and my old horse Jack stood by my side munching at the bit of grass he had just begged me to give him. Cassie, my old dog, lay flat on her side sunbathing, and Ellie, my young dog, sat throwing her new red ball in the air. She had successfully managed to chew off the string and was celebrating!

At that moment, everything was perfect. Any worries I had in my life simply disappeared. This precious beautiful moment was all I had, and indeed all I wanted. I felt the clock of my life stop. I couldn’t move. I didn’t want to move. I closed my eyes and listened to big old horse teeth munching on grass, the late summer birds, an insect whizzing round my face, the dogs playing, the farmer moving hay in the barn, tractors in the distance, a child playing in a nearby garden. It was wonderful. Thoughts drifted into my consciousness about how happy I could be, if I could recreate every single moment of my life in this way.

It was a strange feeling; like a quiet jolt from within, a little like an out of body experience. One theory I have is that my poor beaten up old soul was desperately trying to escape from the burden of my physically drained body. My crumbled mind wanted a break from my constant depressed state and chose to go take a stroll around the countryside on its own – in peace, without my chatter J That, in itself, I accepted as a message, from my horse hungry and freedom loving soul.

When something wallops us hard in the place that we call our heart, we must, simply must, grab that message and run free with it. I knew that the time for grieving was over, or at least was easing off now. I knew that I must put my foot on the pathway to embrace the future of my work with horses by helping people to learn how to connect with their horses in a way that surpasses the normal human-horse relationship.

Nothing is as important as that one individual moment. Your life is made up of millions of these moments, but how many have you missed? How many have you allowed to slip away? How many regrets have you had that you didn’t spend more time with a loved one, a pet, a friend? How many times did these thoughts create change? Not many I suspect, because that is human nature.

Treasure those moments that, for sure, you might never experience again. Experiment, and take the slip road off the fast lane of your life. Ask yourself, ‘what would happen if I stopped, and allowed myself simply to be?’ Don’t go looking for the answer. Just wait. It will come to you in its own time. When it does, which it will if you are patient, you must honour it, honour your life and your soul. And of course, spend more time with the horses!

Danny lived for almost two years after this horrendous episode. I never rode him again as we discovered, through X-rays, that he had bad arthritis in one of his front hooves, which may explain why I spent more time on my back on the floor than in the saddle. The vet diagnosed that the laminitis was caused by Cushing’s Syndrome. I treated him with herbs and natural remedies and he did very well during the time he had left. In the end, his immune system was failing, causing other issues and he grew very depressed. But, until that point, he had lived his life as well and happy as any horse could.

Jan 
Healing Horses ……