This is another place where our language is just deficient. It’s so hard to describe goodness without leaning on behavioural descriptors, and so we end up mixing up what is “well-behaved,” with being well. Two different experiences, subjectively.

And I think we all know this, at some level, because we do give ourselves passes (or I do, anyway), when I become less able to behave “acceptably,” for reasons which are mine, but which are also very real.

I want to be as clear as I can be on this point, or maybe fence, before going further into balance. Health is one way we talk about “goodness,” and it’s sort of what I’m thinking, but it’s more than that. There’s the concept of growing into one’s potential, of being true to one’s own true self, of having room to expand and develop, of (thereby) making mistakes in service of living.

Maybe the concept I’m thinking of (to contrast with the surface and strategic level of simple “good behaviour”) is wholeness, aliveness, trueness, vitality.

And yes, good behaviour is important and certainly a part of health. But sometimes to be truly alive, sane, in reality, whole, whatever, means breaking down a little, getting upset, pushing limits, or generally not going with the script. I’m sure you would agree that there are times when being well-behaved is in fact the opposite of being one’s best self.

So that’s what I’m trying to talk about here. Hard to describe, but…definitely a fence I want to keep well in place.

Happy Friday! And I’m hoping the next one is sunny and warm up here!

This was so much fun. On so many levels. I’ve been a hostage of my Mind for years now, especially when I’m with horses. My Mind is not good at physical tasks, gets worried, and starts to micromanage. By finally expanding my footing to include my Heart and my Body as equal (if not more important!) members of any particular activity, I’m finally able to mute the non-stop chattering, which tends to be comparative, competitive, controlling, and tense.

Today I was able to use my Mind’s plan (thank you!), but then tell her to take a back seat while I worked hard to counterbalance her strong energy with more embodied and heartfelt approaches. This was so lovely. For both of us. For all of us, because Tundra’s Heart, Mind, and Body were all able to be present and participate with equal respect, as well as my own inner team feeling welcome.

The upshot was that I stayed in conversation with my own feelings, and sensations, and adjusted my plans accordingly. I paced my dialogue with Tundra to her slowest, most questioning team member, and we all enjoyed the fresh spring air and a successful lesson (she and I were both still calm, alert, and happy at the end).

While this may have looked easy and natural, I would like to emphasize that it was by no means that for me. I had to really focus on my original intention of staying balanced, and in a listening stance. The more I felt successful, the happier I became, the more my Mind wanted to jump in with extra, better, and farther projects. This was and is how I experience becoming unbalanced, so often. A pleasant feeling escalates to an exhilaration that feeds momentum and soon I am completely dissociated and speeding away on a mental task focus that has left the real world way back somewhere in my shadow.

Thankfully, I remembered just in time that what I really am focusing on here is connection, not improved control. Connection and effective, nuanced, but clear communication is the real win, not the sensation of “getting all the way.”

You may experience becoming unbalanced very differently. That’s fine. The thing that is so helpful is to name it as such, and to figure out that you can lean against your own tendencies, and find a completely different experience than your normal patterns of “tippiness.”

Wishing you a wonderful, breezy, warm, spring Wednesday! With all the balance!

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How does balance look and feel, and how does a lack of balance look and feel? Different depending on whether it’s our head, heart, or body looking and feeling, but I bet you can relate to the many ways we fall down, or get shoved (or pushed, pulled, dragged…). Being balanced in our world is not easy, and it certainly isn’t one-dimensional in any respect.

Kicking off this new “season” of podcasting on the topic of balance, and how we can give ourselves tools to stay more sturdy and secure, I’m describing the contrasts I’ve noted between mental, physical, and emotional equilibrium, as well as how it can feel to lose our “centre,” three ways.

It’s important to reduce falls and fall risks. A good first step is knowing that we can fall, and tracking the warning sensations of a loss of balance before it turns into a soft, or hard, landing. Come sit on this fence with me and check out how balanced you stay, looking off into the distance, and then down at the ground, noticing how you feel, absorbing information while also keeping a strong hold of your own opinions…not that simple. But a great way to spend a part of your Friday!

Kicking off this year of working on balance, I’m walking on a truly muddy/icy/watery driveway. Horses don’t like putting their feet in reflective surfaces (fair), so this is a great opportunity to practice puddle crossings.

So much of how I’ve approached horsemanship (and also people-ship, sigh) has been unbalanced, but in a specific way and direction and tilt that is mine. And that’s the thing. If I look at another person doing something I want to get better at (say, on youtube), I am going to see a person who is working on balance by countering their own tendencies for extremes. Mine may not be the same tendencies, and so what they do/say in a pressured situation may not reflect what would be most helpful for me, in that very same situation.

So the first step, as makes a lot of sense, is to become more aware of my own “lean.” I’m starting to create a little checklist, and also to colour it in with stories, and that’s going to be developed further in this Substack, but for now, it’s enough to know that my Mind tends to rush. If I’m going to tilt in any particular direction, it’s forward, towards a strategic goal that takes over my vision and attention in general.

Combating that requires me (possibly not you!) to slow down, remember my Heart’s values (trust, affection, ongoing communication about all the feelings), and also keep track of my Body’s need for care and close attention to obstacles. Today, that is ice, varying depths of water, slippery slush, and a happy horse in heat.

“Control is not the goal” continues to be an important mantra as a balance reaction for me when I start hyper focusing, and forgetting about other factors (little alliteration for you there).

And, as always, this is about any relationship. You can think about how you approach a tricky (muddy) stretch with anyone you love or care about. You are going to work hard to avoid some extremes, but these may not be the same for the other, connected, individual. Just knowing that all of us are a little out of plumb at any given time is a great way to keep one’s sense of humour. Really, it’s a good thing whenever we can keep our footing, especially in spring.

It’s good to be back. Hope you can join me on this Wednesday walk. 🍃

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Good Friday is here, whether I’m ready or not. I’m not, and that’s kind of the point of this fence. I don’t think I need to be. God came down, and did the work, and there is a lot that is available to me when I am ready, which is to say, not yet. But there it is. That’s how grace seems to work - it waits, and allows me to be…rather than do, for the love to travel.

I’m here, now, and I expect God is near. But to fully deal with that? Hmm. I think my spiritual practices these days are a lot more about straw and stalls and suppers…and yet I believe the love is here, anyway, like a lake is both deeply stationary, and also flowing and cycling and transforming all the time.

Already and not yet is a paradox (a fence) that works well with this particular holy day. You’re welcome to join me.

This follows yesterday’s post quite closely. I’m really excited about this reboot for my brain. It may look the same as all the other walks, but let me tell you, it feels like there are way more possibilities going forward! With far more “Home-like” feelings attached!.

To recap: I’ve thought of lead ropes, leashes, and the more abstract connections between me and people I care about in many of the same ways. That is, I am responsible for keeping a very tight grasp on the situation. I need to ensure pace, distance, focus, and manners (for both of us), all stay well within my vision of the point of it all. This is, of course, quite tiring for all concerned.

It’s not that I enjoy being this invested in control; I just didn’t have another option in my tiny little brain. The idea of letting the other person (as represented by Tundra here, so beautifully) just make their own path, follow their own nose, be their own nervous system, and my grip on the rope between us being simply a signal of where I am in relation…? This is much less work.

It turns out that Tundra is all sorts of friendly, and wants to be with me. She just has some valid concerns, questions, and needs. As do I. We both can use the rope to communicate, in other words. She may need to come in, or move away, or just stop a bit, depending on what she is perceiving around her. I can, similarly, choose to orient myself to her, to my own plan, or to our surroundings. Together, we can create a collaborative adventure that is less about behaviour (although let’s both of us please be safe for each other), and more about getting to know the other through shared interests and exploration.

This new story about how we are connected requires trust, commitment to ongoing “talking,” and also a lot of active listening and response in real time. I like this. It helps me to stay present.

I also have relinquished a great deal of control of what happens. We are going to co-create a story together, which means I can have ideas, but so can she (or, in a case of human relating, you). This is altogether more relaxed and relaxing. It doesn’t allow me to focus on productivity, but I suspect that isn’t my top priority in a relationship such as I would like to have with my horse (or with you).

I have to smile at those of you reading who (again) due to different life trajectories learned this early and well, and therefore find it all almost too simple to bother saying. It is not at all that way for me. I’m pretty excited about revamping my current (very small) circle of regular interactions with human people to copy this little walk with my lovely and oh so present mare.

One hard thing, becoming much less hard…

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Having spent most of my life inhabiting the biggest of big picture thinking, I am contemplating (!) the healing properties of a very small area in which I can live and move, instead.

It’s probably good (occasionally!) to pan out and see a huge view, a long timescape, and think about noble and pressing “causes,” but for me, right now, it’s much better to come back to my own body, feel my feet on the ground, look around me in the here and now, and do the next right thing. Which is usually some form of chores, cooking or cleaning. Sigh.

For any of you who feel confined, constrained, or “stuck,” this might be a reframe that resonates. I hope so, anyway. As usual, there’s no right answer, but there’s lots to think about whichever way you face, on a fence. Happy Friday! Please join me in a meditation on: small stuff.

This quest I’m on to find my own home, and then, for goodness’ sake, stay there for a little while, is one hard thing. I’m continuing to challenge my patterns, here. I’m a little Edgy, this morning, and I am asking Tundra to support me in following through a routine task with the goal of reducing challenge, not adding it.

On Monday I wrote about the difficulty of detaching. Here I’m trying to keep track of my own energy and level of stress, as distinct from Tundra’s. She is her own being, and her behaviour can tell me how I’m doing in calming down, but it helps if I don’t expect her to be the same as me, or follow me exactly, or vice versa. We’re both on the walk, in other words, and we are both experiencing it from our own vantage point.

I think you will notice your own mirror neurone firing in sympathy with my clear state of slight nervousness. I do settle, in a way I can feel, although I certainly don’t make it all the way Home in the time span I’m videoing today. However, looking at a walk with a horse through this lens is so great for helping me “train” her. I’m not needing her to do stuff I want; I’m needing her to give me space and time and polite accompaniment while I deal with my own “stuff.” That’s a different ask, and allows me to stay very patient with her repeated bumps into my bubble, because I’m not reading it through a story of anything but her nervous system resonating with mine.

Used to be, I would have started out Edgy, tried hard to ignore or even push through this state into a higher one, and then spent the whole time with my horse demanding perfect manners and obedience, because their response to my energy was scary, and confirming my initial nerves, to boot. We would have enmeshed in a tight spiral of escalation up the tall building of stress, with me having less and less connection to the ground, to my “self,” and certainly to the reality of our relationship in real time.

Today, I’m dealing very differently. I’m Edgy. That’s a fact. Also, the environment is less friendly and helpful in de-escalation than a pretty summer day would be. I’m working, therefore, to acknowledge my internal reality, the external environment, and my horse’s logical (given all that) responses in the here and now. The upshot is that I enjoy the walk I was so determined to keep in my day. Tundra is able to question me, listen to my answers, and help me out by her patience and clear ability to stay at least slightly below where I am functioning. It’s not about her behaviour; it’s very much about our conversation, which stays well within a Just Right Challenge.

This ability to relate with connection but not enmeshment is very liberating. I will keep working on this, and I hope you can keep on joining me. Wednesdays are for walking, and talking, and breathing, and letting go.

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Still reaching for language…!

I know there is this country where control is king, and we all fight for limited resources and might makes right. The illusion in the country is that chaos and death can be cheated. There is a game that can be won.

I don’t want to live in that country (anymore!). I want to live in the other one, across the fence, where something else is in charge. Not sure what, or who, but it’s a very different set of laws and outcomes.

If I’m not tasked with controlling - you, them, this, that, and most especially, the future, then…I can live in Reality. Which may be the name of this other place. Truth. The real world. Where you, them, this, that and the future are alongside me, and of value and weight, but not under my…control. Nor do they ever need to be. I can relate with the chaos outside, as well as the intermittent peace, with an alternating rhythm of calm surrender, and then using my own muscles and bones and energy to strengthen my structure to deal with the reality I find myself in. Quite different from a zero sum competition to win.

Anyway, that’s the fence I’m sitting on this Friday. You’re welcome to come alongside, survey the view, and as always, contribute any thoughts that come to mind. I’m curious.

Thinking about placing my horse time into my Home is…well, it’s going to take a few more walks. I get so happy, and excited, and full of ideas and enthusiasm around these beautiful animals. But that translates into a slightly higher level of alertness and energy than is really comfortable to sustain. So, as I often seem to need to do, I have to work to consciously de-escalate myself. This is the only way Tundra has a shot at letting herself relax, and I want that for her.

It’s very clear how Tundra mirrors me, my habitually fidgety sort of movements, and the slightly impatient way I go through a task. I’d like to use her large reflective information to give me the information I need to Slow Down, not just in pace, but in my whole being. Home Base is a place to chill, relax, be in the moment, and not rush or evaluate or pressure myself, after all. But getting there? That is one hard thing.

A horse is so helpful, and you can see I do get somewhere here, based on her body language towards the end (especially compared to the beginning!). But I wonder if this tracks with any of you. Do any of you reading/watching/listening also struggle with a slow climb of concern the closer you get to truly peaceful and safe surroundings? Is it hard for anyone else out there to relax while being happy? How to pair a deeply damaged nervous architecture with a secure and welcoming activity?

Well, that’s today’s topic. Come along. Keep breathing.

It’s going to be o…kay…

:)

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