This morning I find myself in a thoughtful space, contemplating the herd I live with and the work I did yesterday with a young client.

Each equine has a unique gift. Lakota, a 24 year old Missouri Foxtrotter is wise and relaxed. She approaches her clients with calm yet inquisitive eagerness. Her confidence inspires me as she steps towards the young boy’s mom, who lowers her mask to share breath with this incredible mare. The two become one in a primal communication of the heart, and the young boy, glued to his mom, takes it all in. “What do you notice in yourself?” I ask him.

“I feel relaxed,” he says, shyly.  

“And what do you notice in Lakota?” I ask. He pauses. 

 “I notice that she has four white legs,” he responds.  

He’s a little scamp, full of energy, and being with the horses is a type of soul medicine for him. He calms into himself a little more with each equine interaction, and lets go of his mom a bit, expanding his confidence and self awareness.  

Blue, one of two miniature horses at Dragonfly Farm, stretches his neck towards the young boy, taking in his scent deeply with each nostril. The boy notices in himself that the wind tickles his face, and notices in Blue that one of his eyes is different. It is milky white, and I explain that Blue is half blind. 

He is the smallest member of the herd, and is completely bonded to Lakota, the herd’s lead mare. Like tape, he sticks to her. She is his rock, his safety.  

I ask the young boy if the horses remind him of any people he knows. He pauses for quite some time, then looks towards his mother. His rock in this world.  

As the sun starts its descent towards the majestic, snow covered Rocky Mountains, I notice Maybella and Tonka standing at the far gate. The two big horses have their ears pricked forward, begging for fun. 

I ask my young visitor if he likes recess at school…if he ever gets excited just before his teacher lets him and his classmates out to run and play. Due to the pandemic, he can barely recall recess, but a flash of remembrance crosses his face.  “Let’s let the horses go to recess!” I say with excitement. 

His large, liquid brown eyes sparkle above his mask as he looks at me in silent agreement. He undoes the buckle of Blue’s halter, and we set the horses free. Blue and Buddy, the two minis, run playfully into the expansive field with the big horses, their short, quick moving legs bringing hidden smiles to our faces. “I want to get closer,” he says quietly.  

“Absolutely!” I burst out-loud. Together we climb through the fence and watch the horses frolic, their manes flying in the wind.

 “What do you notice?” I ask my new friend.  

“I notice a big smile on my face,” he replies.

“Me too,” I say, feeling into the beauty of the moment.

I invite you to pause, and notice something outside of yourself in this moment, something near to you. Then notice something inside of yourself. And if you’d like to try it with any of the horses, give me a call!
In Serenity,  Julie