Letter from Brown

Ever since I was a young thing, my human friend would come out to see me and bring her worries, troubles, and drama out with her. I didn't really mind. My Mama and the others in our herd seemed to be used to it. Some days we'd be like, "Oh no, here comes trouble." Other days we figured if we just kept eating grass maybe she would go away. On rare occasions she would come out and just be with us, just hang out. And that was always nice.

As my human and I have gotten older she's started talking to me when she's hurting and that's nice too. I don't mind. I know when she's upset even when she doesn't. So, it's easier for me when she tells the truth. 

Have you ever been around someone who is really upset, but acting like they're not? You know something's off, but you can't tell what. Bad vibes. Well now you know what it's like for us horses, most of the time. When a human isn't in touch with what's going on inside of them (and frankly, to us, that's most of the time) we know that sooner or later it's going to come out, sometimes when we least expect it. And that makes us feel a little nervous.

So I don't mind when she tells me that she's upset. It's actually a relief. And I don't mind just being with her while she feels that way. In fact, I sort of like it. It seems like deep down she knows I have something for her. And I like it that she'll just stand still, and wait, and listen, and give me a chance to remind her of what she's forgotten - that everything is OK, just perfect, good enough, the way it is.

Sometimes she thinks that means that everything will stay just like she wants it to - that nothing bad will happen, that nobody will get sick or die. But that's not what I mean. 

What I mean is this. Things change. People leave. They get sick. They get old. And they die. But even in the midst of all that change, there is a constant that's beyond your human logic and control, beyond the surface appearance of things. And it's right there waiting for you, all the time. If you can stop all of your doing for long enough, and just breathe, be still, and wait, you will feel it: the quiet stillness, the ever-constant presence of the All That Is. It never leaves, never gets sick, and never dies. And, It's in you and with you, all the time. It's home.

And that's why, whenever my human asks me anything, I say it's gonna be OK. And in that quiet, still, open space, she remembers and knows that it's true. She knows what the other horses and I have always known  . . . . 

All is well. All is perfect. All is complete, just as it is.


No comments:

Post a Comment