Synchronizing With the Land

Copyright 2013

It’s been 30 years since I graduated high school. I never thought I’d be back, but here I am, walking the old pastures of Narbonne High School as I did back then.

Imagine my surprise when I saw all the glorious old healing herbs my mother taught me about as we walked Mr. Brown’s field, growing up in Lomita.

The land changed drastically since then. Modern herbicides and homogenized, mono-cultured agriculture does not foster these “grandma herbs” as I lovingly refer to them. Weeds they are called. Culled and demeaned like witches of old, for simply knowing the wondrously serendipitous ways of healing, as only nature can.

Herbs like Mallow, known for its affinity to heal respiratory issues, the thyroid, malignancies of the throat and so much more.

Plantain (2 varieties), heals the skin, leg ulcers, Nettles, Shepherds Purse, Wood Sorrel and more, a plethora of fine healing herbs for bees and other pollinators to spread their healing joy, a most necessary base for the foundation, the soil of healing.

Some of the young folks volunteering to reclaim the garden helped to harvest the herbs. It was a good exchange of how school has changed from back in my day to their present experience. The horses loved the find these gracious young folks helped to harvest. It takes a good amount of foliage to keep such large creatures tuned. The find was truly a treasure.

These plants once grew in abundance around homes, the plant often growing where the beings were in need of the plants’ healing potential. That innate wisdom only the Great Mother Earth can provide all her offspring.

I have enjoyed the great fortune of spending decades with my beloved horses on trails in deep canyons where wildlife, flora and fauna can be observed. In silent osmosis, I witnessed the innate wisdom creatures of all sizes and shapes, exhibit when the seasons change, the individuality of seeking out the plants they need, where these plants choose to grow best and how they grow in cycles of abundant rain, verses drought. This was a 30+ year education that no university offers. Luckily The Great Mother is still the best teacher to those students that observe and absorb Her wisdom, at no charge.

In recent years the use of Roundup herbicide makes these healing friends of old a distant memory, a weed to be destroyed. The honor of old self- sufficient healing ways obliterated. As these plants gently cleanse the major organs of liver, kidney, lungs and spleen, “dis-ease” is kept to a minimum. This is the original “self-medication”, the true prevention of disease as opposed to the overpriced and disempowering modern version of medicating and surgical means of intervention, suppressing and firmly rooting “dis-ease”.

Once Roundup is sprayed, it is recommended that livestock not graze that land for a period of 4 years. Think about this, a great deal of humanity eats tons of conventionally grown produce sprayed with this poison (this doesn’t even include the GMO damage). If CAFO produced meats are included in the diet, the human is at the end of a very toxic food chain, compounding chronic illness that abounds.

The following photographs chronicle land changes as Roundup is sprayed to abate “weeds”. The first growing season following the application of Roundup results in a bloom of “superweeds”. They grow abhorrently large with a vengeance, in segregated bunches. Perhaps this is natures way of combating the toxin, just as sage is generally the first plant to grow after wildfires (ash has its own healing properties), these plants may somehow try to initiate healing of the land, time alone will tell.

Superweeds growing.

If the Roundup is again used to combat these plants, the growing season that follows begins to show sterilized soil. Acres and acres of barren land, void of pollinators and everything further up the food chain (including humans) that depend on this basic foundation of sustenance, the soil and her bounty.

Barren land where repeated spraying occurred, note the "weeds" still grow closer to the creek below.

Riparian Buffers

As many farmers and gardeners move towards holistic land management, riparian buffers are part of the landscape. These are areas of farmland that are allowed to return to their “wild state”, weeds, or healing plants, depending on perspective, are allowed to flourish as the land slopes toward watershed areas for the purpose of leaching farming chemicals, before they reach the waterways.

These areas are important as they not only help to insure a cleaner water supply, but also allow the land to remember her ways. The soil organisms, the healing herbs that are so vital to the health of pollinators and most likely so much more that we will never truly understand. The also serve as corridors for wildlife.

The significance of this has merit in backyard gardens as well. Though it may not be in the direct path of a waterway, such an “original” blueprint for the garden will provide that innate wisdom of what is needed for healing in the form of soil organisms, healing plants and an honor for what was, to serve as a bridge to what will and can be. The old ways should not be forgotten, for to this day they are still able to unravel the sterilized, homogenized damage modern life has brought to living beings.

The following is an excerpt from a very worthwhile read from the late, great father of Agrohomeopathy, Viakunthanath Kaviraj in his article “Symbiotic Relationships”:

“Societies of plants seek each other, but they also seek man, because like attracts like – what is in the same vibration of consciousness will invariably seek each other and find them too. The domestication of plants is a logical outcome of man collecting himself around wild grains, which he then began to grow to feed ever-more mouths. Just as grains grow around man, man grows around grains.

It is also often said that the weed that grows abundantly in the garden of a sick man will be his medicine, from which we can learn that plants are attracted by similarities in consciousness and mentality for their favourite places of growth. A little anecdote from my case-books will illustrate this perfectly

I once had a Scottish friend, who had relations with one of the biggest dope dealers in the vicinity. This man was a rough type, who drank whiskey like water and smoked joints like a chimney. He was rough in the mouth and had the raspiest voice I ever heard. He had a problem – he had an eczema that itched him no end. Could I help him?

Sure, why not? Better than the priest who condemns the sinner, the doctor treats friend and foe – he does not ask how one make one’s income. He asks what type of work he does. When the answer is import export, the doctor may know exactly what is meant. On arrival at the man’s house I saw the yard was overgrown with nettles. I said nothing, but went inside, where the roughneck was drinking whiskey and trying to order his wife around. The living room was huge and a fire burning in the open fireplace, to which the host had stretched his feet and was busily scratching himself voluptuously. His wife asked what I could do for him. So I told her he should get a flogging with nettles, to get rid of his itch. At that he pulled out a gun and told me he’d shoot off my head if I so much as even thought about it. I told him I had a present for him and handed him a few bottles of Glenfiddich, his favourite malt. So we fed him so drunk, he passed out and slid from his crapaud on the floor and was unconscious. Then we went into the garden wearing rubber gloves and cut many bunches of nettles. These we brought inside, then stripped the fellow and flogged him with the nettles till he was swollen and red. We covered him with a blanket and let him get out of his booze. Then I left for the night with my friend to his place and the next day back home.

The next day he called and even his voice was smoother. He had lost the desire to brag and swear and told me his skin was as smooth as a baby’s. If I could come by to get my pay. I told him I did not require to have my head blown off with a big sawn-off shotgun. He told me it was a joke and please come – he is embarrassed by his threat and needs to show his gratitude. Even his wife had asked me to come by. I told him I would be back in six weeks. When I came back, I visited him again. The garden was almost free of nettles. I asked him whether he had cut them down. “No” he says, they had gone by themselves. He had two more flogs by his wife and then by the second time they were almost gone. His wife told me he was much nicer and softer now and his business was booming. Even she had changed, and was much more relaxed. That consciousness left the man and the nettles left with it.”

I dearly love this story, confirming the full circle wisdom my mother impressed me with. It is a strange and wondrous trust that something much wiser than us governs. A very basic and valid clue as to what is needed for healing before one even knows the beings in the areas where one is called. Is modern man willing to listen and honor the wisdom the land holds?

 Who’s up for an herbal class?

The Lady in the Window

Copyright 2013



The Lady in the window speaks to me, 

The Corn Maiden of long ago seeks to be free.

She walked this place before the Tongva came,
The Peoples of the Earth She bestowed her Blessings upon.

Reconciliation now is sought,
Land and lives should no longer be sold or bought.

Honor and love the ground on which you stand,
It is your sacred Mother whose ancient fragments strengthen your stand.

The land still heals,
though Modern Man poisons Her so.

The rooted plants still bring soundness,
from the depths below.

Humble your hearts, abundance you squandered.
The Sacred Mother always forgave your blunders.

She silently waits,
for your birthright to take,

the time has come to wake.

Answers

Copyright 2013

The past few blogs have been an experiment of some sorts. A stretching of boundaries, inspired by the elusive, reclusive muse that told me take my hand off my mouth and just say it, scribe the stars she says. They have been written for those of advanced healing arts, the feedback has been enjoyable, some found answers, some found the void, so I will stretch those paradigms a bit further. This is not about some canned answer an infantile race is use to being spoon fed, it’s about waking up, owning your power, taking responsibility and harnessing your life’s education into your own way.

I am nobody special, born under formidable circumstance to say the least, an accident, that wasn’t, so to speak.

I have chosen mentors carefully; those that do not sugar coat, but give the raw, bare bones truth of what I need to know to hone my chosen arts. Those permitted dark admittance of humanity in wards and war, and can tell of depths humanity sinks to in despair and of cruel torture that is disguised as “cure” at times. These are the souls that have something to teach me. Teachings from gurus sequestered from the blood and guts of humanity ring untrue. Much has been handed down verbally. Etched in the corners of my mind, coming forth when need, heeded as needed. There is a tremendous letting go in what these folks have taught me, freedom to break the limits of human delusion (no matter how enlightened some fancy themselves to be). Thank you.

We live in interesting times, since days of old, humanity has always asked for a sign, an answer, never realizing they hold the key all along. We start with the Message of the Hopi Elders, for I believe the ancients offer the lynchpin all have within their grasp. Modern man, for all his good intent, is too miasmicly burdened, incongruent and unaware of how well he lies to himself to lend much to heed to. Solace, peace and truth, for me, has always been found in the natural world.

Message from the Hopi Elders:

You have been telling the people that this is the Eleventh Hour.
Now you must go back and tell people that THIS is the hour.
And there are things to be considered:
Where are you living?
What are you doing?
What are your relationships?
Are you in right relation?
Where is your water?
Know your garden.
It is time to speak your truth.
Create your community.
Be good to each other.
And do not look outside yourself for the leader.
This could be a good time!
There is a river flowing now very fast.
It is so great and swift that there are those who will be afraid.
They will try to hold onto the shore.
They will feel they are being torn apart, and they will suffer greatly.
Know the river has its destination.
The elders say we must let go of the shore,
Push off into the river.
Keep our eyes open,
And our heads above the water.
See who is in there with you and celebrate.
At this time in history, we are to take nothing personally,
Least of all ourselves.
For the moment that we do, our spiritual growth and journey
Comes to a halt.
The time of the lone wolf is over. Gather yourselves!
Banish the word struggle from your attitude and vocabulary.
All that we do now must be done in a sacred manner and in celebration.
We are the One's we've been waiting for.

The Elders
Oraibi, Arizona
Hopi Nation

Threading Dynamics

The work of Dr. Gabor Mate threads the needle through interesting connections most “doctors” fail to correlate.

In ancient cultures, substances deemed “addictive” were used in ceremonial circumstance without abuse or addiction. Tobacco, Marijuana, Peyote and other herbs had their place in opening realms in a sacred manner, without creating dependency. So what changed?

Modern man, please try and listen on a level most are not equipped to hear, I do not advocate drug use. Many can reach other realms without the use of said substances. I am including this because shrouded addiction is so prevalent in our society. Humans make choices through their skewed pinhole opinions, fear and despair, rather than ancient, rooted knowing. While many advocate the use of said substances, most do not  realize how these plants have been hybrid/adulterated to pander to modern mans need to escape himself, to keep lying to himself.

The crux of addiction is an ailing part of a humans’ soul, hinging as humans using their bodies to express what is wrong in the society they are part of; all is a reflection. Ancient man used these herbs to find himself (remembering who you were meant to be); modern man prostitutes the honor of these plants, by losing himself, making himself a prime target for manipulation. In doing so, the substance is nothing more than another layer of compensating suppression. This ancient truth is of great importance to know for anyone wishing to move past dependency, be it alcohol, substance, electronic or whatever the human replaces the peace of Oneness with.

Dr. Mate notes that as capitalist societies rose, addictions rose; the soul losing something of great worth when materialism becomes paramount. This speaks volumes to those in the energetic healing arts.

What becomes more of a slight of hand is when the addiction is prescribed and cloaked as “medicine”.

A disemboweled, floundering humanity seeks relief from a dazzling, high-tech institutions (electronics have their own addictive effects on our energy fields), facts and figures corral their already overwhelmed and exhausted intellect, psychotropic drugs flood the populace. The power of self healing is delegated to others, with consequence.

Working in the healing arts with those ready to move past dependency gives perspicacity to ancestral, familial, miasmic, cultural and so much more that influences the current condition in any individual. This knowing is sharpened when working with generations within familial lines. It is never the one thing humans wish it to be, it is a vast web of dynamic influence that converges to seek reconciliation. Most will be at a level (lack of awareness) where they cannot hear, let alone act upon the truth if it is sung to them. Some beings can clear this esoteric fog quickly; some will take years to do so.

 It should be no surprise we are in a time when it is easier for individuals to wean off of street drugs, than prescription medication. New classes of prescriptions medication disrupt the bodies ability not only to uptake certain minerals (which in and of itself leads to many silent chronic, wasting illness), but many also have an effect of how the brain receives information; brings a whole new meaning to messing with your head. This is the reality my work leads me to untangle.

Destabilizing Structure

For decades now the food supply has been destabilized. Chemical fertilizers have disrupted the body’s availability and ability to uptake minerals. Depleted soils and heavy metal contamination lead the body to replace need minerals with the closest, unsuitable replacement. The body does what it can with what it is given. Lead replaces calcium, magnesium and zinc. Arsenic in place of copper, mercury fills the roll of selenium, fluoride, also fills the void. Most of these metals will disrupt the balance calcium, magnesium and phosphorous in the body, weakening bones. These metals also wreak havoc with the endocrine system. As these chemical fertilizers accelerate plant growth, young ladies menstruate earlier, body’s age faster. These heavy metals destroy the thyroids ability to govern metabolism. These subtle disruptions often do not show up on tests, but initiate chronic, slow progressing illness adding to the lack of awareness.

Bodies tend to pack on weight much differently than decades past. In horses diagnosed as “Cushings” there are predicable pads of fat that develop. Belly fat in humans predominates. Add the GMO factor to what the chemicals have started and the above has been exasperated ten fold.

While some claim new and improved tests are leading to better diagnosis, the fact remains that one did not see this type of body decomposition pre-GMO. The up and coming health professionals of today learn of such things as being the “norm”, not having account of how life use to be pre-poisoned food. This leaves a huge void that will be filled with more pills, more chemicals and generally creates a dependency on a medical system outside of self, to keep functioning. No need to wonder why the only industry left in America is blocks and blocks of medical buildings. A system of slow slaughter is fully functional. Its roots firmly anchored in dead, plastic food, a spoiled and addicted populace duped into killing itself, paying outlandish insurance premiums, which now all seemed doomed to sign up for, though the elitists at the top of the food chain exempt themselves. Wake and smell the hypocrisy.

Heed the Hopi Elders and be your own leader.

Humanity addicted to electronics; walking dead. A wondrous natural world slowly evaporating, most so dumbed down, they can’t see it slipping away. Oh what is lost when the feet lose the song of the ley lines.

Heavy metals ringing a new song through our bones, vaccines delivering newly encoded messages into DNA, trigger finger electronics, most don’t have to learn to shoot from the hip when joining armed services, they are already hardwired to kill. Miasmicly, culturally, so cleverly packaged no one, not even their parents, aware enough to say no and stop buying into the damage done. Humanity becomes a product, our youth, harnessed drones.

A government of bullies tells others not to use chemical weapons on their own, while poisoning the US populace with GMOs and chem-trails. Killing and war seems this governments’ only answer. Though miasmicly and chemically watered down, what child doesn’t feel the incongruence ringing through the collective? When no one hears the silent scream, the exploding angst of youth calls our heed.

For decades young people have died on gang infested streets. Media makes no mention of them, what is it about these children no one cared? Now when babes a plenty lose their lives, humanity cries and asks God why? This is the delusional, veiled pinhole most see life through, failed awareness that would make the human race ring more true. As long as the pinhole perspective needs are met, they won’t care what brothers and sisters of other races sweat. Genocides of ages ago, of many races, depended on this failing of the human spirit.

Indigenous peoples once populated the land in the tens of millions. Slow, systematically slaughtered, they number now somewhere around 250,000; the blueprint of this genocide used by many governments around the world. How many are willing to open their eyes and see the tainted thread strung through eternity?

Corral the people, remove their babes, and strike the ancient language from singing. Soon they die out and the next generation of syco/syphilitics can do what they want, raping humanity and the land as time strings along.

How many parents now lament, of increased aggression when to pre-school their child is sent? Dead, plastic food, the sacred babes, thrown to the world; a mindless population dances to its own panic driven fear. Stop.

For some this planet has not felt safe to bring life into for decades, we cried with Iron Eyes Cody was his beloved river turned to sludge. Something inside us told us to stop, something more mindful must crop.

For this we may have been called many names, teased in school and thought of by some family members as lame. Still the ley lines call we heed, there is no wrong or right answer, only that which unties the knot in your gut and calls the next purpose to fruition.

The schooling system for most isn’t easy. For those deemed less than normal the journey is yet more queasy. For the bully must always his ego gloat, a weakness covered by stepping on another bloak. Too many now cloaked in psychotropic drugs, can no longer suck it down and suppress. Their terror and anger with gunshots expressed.

The government puts on a lame show of caring. Aspergers has been removed from the list of those with autism that receive aid. Many of these individuals have incredible intellect; they find it hard to live with the “dumbed down”. Adolescence proves to be a stressful time, so many labels, so many meds, a soul coming into its own, yoked with consequence and opinions and fears of others, anger grows, truth unacknowledged and unreconciled explodes.

The bandaid on a gunshot wound. It’s the best this miasmicaly burdened culture can do. Another human pissing contest ensues, who knows best? Ban guns, more committees, more liberties lost, more of a bad show. Laws fail to inspire integrity. If this were so we’d be the most serene society ever. Why is no one threading the dynamics of dead food, harried parents, children thrown to strangers for care, violent media to name a few influencing for decades? Why is the human so blind to the raw gut truth waiting for reconciliation in the subconscious?

A host of healing ways exist to quell the destructive, homicidal, suicidal, unfeeling miasms that fuel this vicious pace. Work with horses, gardens, returning to nature, homeopathy and more have their place. These kids shine when authoritarian confrontation gets out of their face and reconnect with the silent grace of natures embrace.  

A wise suggestive voice from behind, a deep and core listening to bridge the divides; it works with all troubled beings, it quells the screaming violence and starts the flow of healing tears. These young people of today are incredible humans with great consequence left for them to deal with. On the other side of their rage is just another soul, wanting acknowledgement to their birthright, to live, chase dreams and not be a commodity for someone else’s expectation.

There is no right or wrong answer here, all do the best they can, with what they are given. The huge swath of death, suicide and holocaust should cause those with eyes open to take heed, but most are too stuck in delusion to dare see such truth. The ancients have said, there are many people, but few human beings. Perfect peace reigns when nature intervenes on our behalf.

Heed the Silent Song

I have always heard the death song about a year before beloved beings passes. There is no gift, that does not carry within it curse. Untie the knot of dichotomy, find the Stillpoint, then you will find what you need. It is a very hard awareness of being in the moment.

I felt this call a year before my mother passed. I was 13 years old, always felt a bit of a freak, sometimes treated as so for not “fitting in”. Nature has always been my solace, the Great Mother always understood me, even the years I did not understand myself.

The way is always made. Parents and schools, feeling the burdening, unsung crush of over population (as we deem it), thrusts children into pressured schedules; “you don’t understand” they say. Perhaps it is the pressure cooker life led, that causes “them” not to understand. The power in saying “no” liberates those yoked with the miasmic tendency to exploitation. Slowing down, taking time sounds so cliché, but humanity has long lost its sense of sacred. If we are as evolved as we claim to be, children getting shot need not be our wake up call. Life is short, and judging by our tendency to consume poison at an addictive rate, bound to get shorter. Humanity is but a spoiled, egotistical infant compared to the other nations we share this incredibly gorgeous planet with.

A gem within a gem; something worth digging through the muck and mire for; the term lightworker never did a thing for me. Most destined for such work will have a period where self seeks to escape the looming work calling them. Modern society labels these babes with a host of diagnosis. Generally a severe health crisis of some sort seals the fate. What is choice when every cell of your being knows what needs to be done? It stems ancestrally, it jumps time lines into the future. Skating possibilities, knowing the consequence each will make way before its appointed time. Consequence knows, there is no blessing that doesn’t carry some sort of curse, all for the sake of equilibrium.

It happened that day, long ago, when I saw in my mothers’ eyes, her time of leaving was soon to be. She always had a great deal of faith in me. It always baffled me the choices she gave me freedom to. Great autonomy she entrusted. The youngest of eight, there was a lot on my plate. The accident is often born under the most formidable of circumstance, the one that shouldn’t be, the one that may be born a bit goofy. Who are you to judge? Silence is the best tool a human can use when wisdom fails. The circumstance is just the beginning of boomeranging worldly travails such children will be yoked with. They often carry the burden of clearing familial/cultural lines.

Some say we chose our circumstance; another theory shifting burden when humanity cries why. Perhaps, we are pushed. We are but a spoke in the wheel, we don’t/won’t know everything.

Forceps birth, a dented head, I know I live best in the autonomy my mother gave me, no rules, lid off the box, sides down, everything else humans mouth, heaven, hell, karma, reincarnation, law of attraction, blah, blah, blah, just another limit, a canned answer emitted by the infant so willing to poison itself, white noise. More than ever, I need nature’s synchronic song, while it still plays.

The silent planets that dance in the night, the song the birds sing that compliment the breeze. The spirit herd gathers, in reserved stance. A year ago, all sang of welcoming another Windwalker home.

Winter is always a time of waning energy. The sun feebly shines; ancestral strength stored in the kidneys runs out. Those of advanced age feel nature’s pangs in their bones.

Our dear Noble Man, the adopted horse. His aging frailness began singing the out of tune note that would ring him home. The herd heard and co-operates, such is the nature of horse. Curtailing trail excursions, being there for our soon to depart friend. It is a gift not having the ego driven opinion of others clouding what needs to be done, just being in the moment and letting the animals tell of what is best to be perfected. Let go.

Noble Man was keenly attuned to details. The greeting ceremony, the lessons of subtle connection he imparted on those lucky enough to be endowed with his gallantry. He often called to those who lacked social grace, and reminded them the substance and closing of saying adieu. Some never took the time to know the depth of his unassuming being. This always stung his core.

We take for granted how frail such a large invincible beast is on the inside. The crushing weight of human deadness kills the mightiest of hearts. No one wants to believe, when at deaths door the final note is sung. Human delusion spins their wants, life force can be stretched so far beyond what one thought, but in the end the heart always stops and sets the last fading beat to usher those that walk the wind home.

He put his head on my shoulder, a final horse hug good by and his soul slipped from his body to join the spirit herd waiting near by. Nature lives in service to itself, without malice.

“All that we do now must be done in a sacred manner and in celebration” The Hopi Elders beckon. The time for Modern Mans lies coming to an end. Our ways of comfort have weakened the vital force greatly. Even the wild ones come to those with listen and ask the gap be bridged; life from the highest mountains to lowest being asking modern man to conclude our greed.

Automated slaughter houses spilling rivers of blood to feed disconnected masses. Laws forbidding documentation of what occurs in factory farms put in place by politicians. The sacred lessons of prey and predator prostituted, as only a human could.

This is not meant to inspire guilt, but to make you think and quell hypocrisy. Some clamor to save one species from slaughter, while stuffing faces with ground flesh of another. What makes a preferred specie exempt, and another worthy of holocaust? We selectively choose blindness to what we do to one another, every other being on this planet is at risk of our selective righteousness.

How many have had predatory pets share a “kill” as an offering of thanksgiving? How was the pet treated for sharing ancient skills with a beloved? Stretch this a bit further to working with wild predators, what if they bestow such a gift? What would you make of that?

And what of the Mongols whose vast herds have no fences, yet the beasts stay unto the final day of sacrifice? No one understands the circle of life better than the animals. There is no right or wrong answer here either; nothing to prove, no pissing contest to engage in, no pinhole opinion to impose on another as well. For at the core of any knot is self hate for what self imagines themselves to be, but is not. When self can come to terms with that, the whole being rings truer in action, the need for empty words discontinues. A new way of being comes to play, less is more and the congruency that emanates will do more to foster concord than any law can inspire. Words will cut to the chase, offend some, liberate others. To thy own self be true, then the whole will fare much better.

Only then, will you know where your water comes from, as water springing forth from sacred rock reveals itself. You will know your garden and from this your community will nourish because the circle has been established back to love of the land (something that goes way beyond patriotism, roots self and respect for others), self, family and community.

You will be in the right relationships, because you have learned the courage to speak your truth. Your whole life has prepared you for this moment. There have been no wasted lessons; you have all that you need. You don’t need a canned answer, you had it all along. All that we do now must be done in a sacred manner and in celebration. There is a river flowing now very fast. Go with it.

Jumping Timelines – The Future Teaches the Past

Copyright 2010

Describe infinity, the indefinable number, the great void. A tall order for two-leggeds; stuck in the past or future, generally oblivious to the moment, the present. The gift, release of the ego-driven, pinhole perspective, glimpses of eternal.

In Quantum Sciences and in Energetic Healing the symbol of the figure eight on its side; The Zero, The Stillpoint, the place to access a deeper knowing than the level before. Down the spiral we go.

In human terms we struggle to define the sacred and mystic, indeed it is a place for no words, sensation and gestures mostly, that which reconnects to the place before this place, some of us recall; the safety of the Universal Womb, before the physicality of our mothers’ wombs, where the beginning weavings of the illusion of separation sprouted.

While many dogmatic teachings strive to connect us with the security the Great Mothers Womb the universe provides, many two-leggeds feel sequestered from Devine province as evidenced by the “why me?” when castigation is perceived. Most are born robbed of the secure base that should be a birthright.

Ideals of heaven, karma and reincarnation strive to bridge the gap of this perceived separation and lack of self foundation. Yet even these will be limiting, depending on individual scope and levels of perceptions, dividing the opposing forces of nature, light and dark, good and bad, female and male: instead of viewing all from a secure base knowing all are forces governing balance. It is only when self is in “dis-ease” that equilibrium of perspective and erosion of foundation is lost. Trust in the grand design crumbles and implodes in a sinkhole of self pity. The Great Mother nourished and sustained all thus far.

There is a theory in Quantum Physics that all time exists at once. Complex equations reappear to the familiar place of infinity, the Figure Eight on its side. The only consistent answer, something, the elusive, can’t be put into words, the Great Mystery, goes on forever.

Some believe that this symbolizes the timeline itself (as humans know it to be, past, present, future). This timeline loops over and back on itself, and connects to a new dimension/reality. This pattern repeats infinitely. The ancients had a “map” for this.

Known as the “Flower of Life” in many religions, it is a symbol of realities accessed by those ready to release/return to the knowing before incarnation. When viewed holographically, it is like a large spin of yarn that extends eternally, at many levels and directions. A timeline that isn’t, merely a blossoming flower, just beginning cognizance.

Perhaps with the limitations of language, heaven/karma/reincarnation is the closest, human explanation for such an expansive concept locked within such a limited creature as a human. Animals have long since accessed such knowing; hence the Ancients knew the Great Spirit spoke to them through the animals. These creatures have no ego, nor agenda hence they were the Original Healers, they see clearly that which man usually cannot.  They still see the rainbows (energy fields) surrounding all entities. Full circle evidence shows the rise in the employment of therapy animals. Humans return to knowing.

This “Flower of Life” can also be likened to patterns that repeat in nature. Ancients knew these to be “songs”. Vibrations sung by every living atom, and if one is so inclined, sub-atomic particles. These vibrations sing to the existence of the largest of organisms and experiences; as below, so above; from the most minuscule dance of the atom, to neurological patterns, to life, to patterns of planetary celestial dances, all mirroring each other.

When intuition is accessed, insights may come from many forms. The Akashic Field (what many religions refer as the “Book of Life)”, the place in the ethers where all that was ever experience by everything is recorded. Information may also come from substances that have long held memory, such as water, and certain elements that comprise the body hold such memories as well. Many of these elements have long recycled around the globe/universe, for eons. DNA is another source that can reveal ancestral and borrowed songs.

So what exactly is this cellular memory? What exactly is karma? What exactly is re-incarnation? As below, so above, a theory is just that, a thought, an ideal, a notion. Humanity has always told itself what it needs to survive (levels of perception), all that remains as fact is what is sensed in the present moment, to a specific being, the rest is conjecture.

Infinite paths exist to presentiment. Experience condenses itself individually, while echoing a very immense, collective pattern. Cognition of these resonances liberates and neutralizes many deliberations (dis-ease) self has.

These patterns are often called upon by individuals in crisis when they feel their own survival at stake.

Such patterns are borrowed from the mineral kingdom for structure (the very building blocks of life), from the plant kingdom for sensitivity (rooted yet enduring cycles) or from the animal kingdom for survival (competition). 

Homeopathy employs the energetic signatures of these substances to liberate individuals from their “stuck” state, so they will be able to sing the song they were meant to sing, not the one borrowed. This is only one of many ways to incorporate the vast experience of self, so awareness liberates the being to live unencumbered by familial, cultural, societal expectations and thereby allowing self to live with a knowing of core infinite wisdom.

Health is the awareness of knowing what to do in that moment, then moving on and not getting stuck in any particular state.

Borrowed Patterns, Ingrained Patterns and Levels of Awareness

These borrowed patterns that sing of elementals of the universe (mineral, plant, animal), will ring through the tissues and energy fields of all life. This matter has recycled the planet for millennia.

In Ancient Cultures these elemental strengths that comprise life, were spun into storytelling. History was handed down, generation to generation, increasing the intellects ability to retain information as all had to be memorized. There was no written material to return to for reference. Cycles of the Natural World were the written record from which to draw reference. Ancients had a multitude of stone, plant and animal totems to guide them.

As civilizations rose, educational systems sprung. A parallel dynamic formed, for as governments grew to harvest a sprouting crop of humanity, so systems to harness mindsets were needed. All governments corral their populace via poverty, ignorance, illness or intoxication.

Education is viewed by many as a key to liberation of this corralled state, yet most “out of the box” thinkers must delve deep into other “knowings” outside the common education system as learning institutions must too often adhere to standards that funnel the masses to serve the agenda of the government at hand. All governments engage this, it is how they survive and ultimately, like all things in nature, decay and collapse.

As most things human and short-sighted, civilization sought to buffer individuals from the “harshness” of nature. Many nomadic tribes fought this stage in humanity vehemently. Trust in the cycles of the Great Mother was key to these nations, on many continents, to stay in balance.  The conceding of Nomadic life meant strangulation and stagnation. As “civilized” populations grew, so did dis-ease. Miasmic taints were born and spread (see Miasms and De-evolution), as were parasitic loads.

Here the plantings of illness took a turn, enslave the Spirit, dis-ease the body. From the borrowed patterns of nature came a new layer of fear-driven cultural and miasmic discord. The further humanity is driven from the songs of the ley lines, the less their feet dance, the sicker bodies grew.

New systems of “medicine” formed. Drugs dispensed waved a magic wand of delusion, though the symptoms seemingly gone, the “illness” pushed deeper continuing to do wrong, generation after generation.

Robbed of the birthright to journey, traversing different terrain, eating a variety of fauna exposes and strengthens the immune system and bolsters to allay allergens, the body declines in health. On his deathbed Louis Pasteur recanted his original theory. “The germ is nothing, the soil is everything” (the environment/vital force of the body itself).

By then “science” had entrenched the belief onto a populace void of fortified foundation, the magic pill will correct the “dis-ease”. Vital Force weakened by chemically grown fodder, layers of sedentary, artificial living and drugs convened to sift individual perception to varying levels of awareness – delusion. What self perceives to be reality is clouded by layers of miasmic, familial, cultural, educational and societal constrictions yoked with an inability to act upon the yearnings of their hearts. Patterns so ingrained, self mistakes harm for help.

These levels of awareness exist. Some experience only from a “factual” level of programmed information and numbers, others from an emotional/feeling level where perception is interpreted by feelings evoked, the delusion level can produce skewed action as self is reacting from a distant shock to the system, that may be carried ancestrally or through some other far removed trauma echoed in the web of life. Most all life carries within it some sort of this shock. At the sensation level, a layer is reached that resonates with non-human, universal elements, the place of no words, cannot be described. Most beings operate from combination of several of these layers depending on many factors. There are other layers that emanate from these, however the fore mentioned suffice for this context.

Paper That Makes Us Crazy

As these layers converge and fog perception the duping and exploitation of the masses becomes easily manipulated. Students work diligently at some sort of scholarly pursuit, at the end of much application a degree or diploma is awarded. Self graduates and is under the impression the education paid for will render what only life experience can enlighten.

In any pursuit self chooses to learn, bear in mind, the best teachers will provide good, basic keys, the rest is for self to unlock. This is a birthright, not to be yoked by the limits of others. Perception through the levels and spirals is a never ending endeavor of refinement. The more refined know less is more, and at the center of a peaceful core infinite possibility exists.

We live in a world where a being is born, you get a piece of paper, you learn something, you get a piece of paper, you buy something, you get a piece of paper, you toil endless hours, you get a piece of paper, something you love dies, you get a piece of paper.

Welcome to your delusion! When mankind began to section and sell off the Great Mother, a piece of the Soul was sold out and the process to reclaim it goes on. Beings bred and sold like meat for market; it wasn’t long before we sold ourselves. The process to reclaim goes on. This is how far a reach the delusion spread, self mistook harm for help.

We buy land and think we own it; this is how far the delusion spread. Any war surviving offspring knows the fickleness and inherited susceptibility to greed governments possess. Security in paper crumbles like the towers that turned to ash and littered the land with useless piles of paper.

For the truth is the planet is our birthright. All indigenous people know this and carry this song in their hearts. That’s why their feet still feel the ley lines, the songs to sing and the dance, as only the body knows to pray.

When self feels safe and strong enough to plummet through the sub-conscious so deeply and come to terms with all that dwells there, only then will the Hara (the backbone of the energy field) root deeply into the earth and take self to a place way beyond the “grounding” self believed itself to be; a benevolent place way beyond the right and wrong of things.

When the roots of self remember who you were meant to be and you are ok in your own skin, then the upper aspects can open and reach to the heavens and embrace the dance the celestial lessons of the stars beckon. When self can do this, self is like a tree, branching in all directions/dimensions. Life becomes an amazing design to weave and no longer fear. Birthright complete, the circle came back fully on itself, looped over and starts a new level of awareness.

Levels of awareness increase as energy centers expand.

Transitions to Other Worlds, the Future Teaches the Past

A baby is born, the entire family dynamics change. “I didn’t think it would be so much work”, I didn’t thing it would be so hard”, echoes of parents lament. In most cases overshadowed by a tremendous love that evokes self beyond unknown limits.

The child receives the diagnose of autism. The family exhausts all means (energy, emotional, financial, etc.) as the oversensitivity of the childs’ sensory level seems to demand such at the time (level of knowing).

This family spends time studying healing practices and cultures of old. An odd whim sends them around the world to far away lands. There the shaman reach a place within the boy and his family and the diagnose looses its grip.

The father, able to set his ego aside, follows the son to journey where both bloom. The journey initiated by the horse.

The sensory work, just laying on the horse, gives all family members a chance to let go of all preconceived notions and just be. Many a child deprived of restful sleep will doze hours after such a release, as may their parents. Restore the body clock, begin the healing.

Well trained horses that transition easily from walk, to trot, to canter, ease these sensitives to smoother transitions in our world. From inside to outside, from home to school and on and on it goes. The rocking of the hips astride the horse opens mental and emotional faculties conventional methods fail to access. The family grows and thrives; the glow goes both ways, the child no longer a drain. The future teaches the past, as Ancients always knew; the Earth is borrowed from your children.

The horse, once used by man in war, to kill, to conquer, now finds itself in a position of the sentient being all animals can be, given the chance, outside humanities colored perceptions. The work of Rupert Issaacson and his son Rowan in their “Horseboy” method are transcendental to engage in.

Those working with horses have long known the healing power of the horse. The horse has no ego, no agenda. In the presence of any beast that has been allowed the grace of knowing and owning its full potential, its unlimited core, peaceful healing occurs. This is a grace that disintegrates miasmic, pre-programmed patterns to the oblivious chains of false expectation they are. Self is free to jump the timelines if one is so inclined.

In deep canyons, Ancient beings share their knowledge of use to be, how the land looked before the concrete came, abundance of wildlife modern man could never know any other way. They for tell the seasons, of rain, drought, they tell what to store, what to give away.

Their reality is just a thin timeline, ethereal membrane away, to those with that which hears. Just like ours, just like what will be. The hologram goes on an on. Nothing really ends; it just morphs to something else.

Death and the Birth of Self

Borrowed patterns, engrained patterns and levels of awareness; from the template before the template we borrowed from the mineral, plant and animals kingdoms.

At birth we borrow from parents, family, society, nature and more. The sooner self is stripped of what is borrowed, the sooner self begins taking possession of itself. Beings that pass, worked that passed, social norms that pass, congeal to awake self as to all that has been “borrowed” for self to assume the posture of self – sufficiency (propping self up).

Death is most likely the most difficult emotion for two-leggeds to come to terms with. It strips the ego down way past the “god-self”, to the raw, naked being the separation from Oneness duped us to be.

The deeper the Hara roots past the delusions of the sub-conscious (that will color perspective), the less self is likely to “borrow” from other beings and kingdoms. When this happens, beings in selfs’ life are more likely to be honored for whom they are, and not what self needs them to be.

Too many times people and animals in our lives for fill a role someone else disgraced. Many belief systems as well, yoke beings with expectations of life lessons past, yet many two-leggeds love their junk, unable to move on, desperately clinging to what was, never seeing the delusion that was, because if sight was clear and the being able to steady itself more on its own two feet, that despondent desolation would be filled with empowered grace, the next piece of the puzzle, the next morph. The timelines would blur and self would still see the loved ones there – still propping you up, just in a different, more internal, infused way. All Self needs, is already there, the nurture of Nature has not yet failed us.

The core is infinite, just as the expansive universe.

The Trouble with Rehabbing Horses

Copyright 2012

Long ago nomadic peoples kept time with the healing cadence the hoof beats large herd animals provided. It was a slow grounding, rhythm, a natural state of walking meditation.

Barefoot, two-legged and beast could feel muscles, tendons, breath, ingestion [on a physical (air, water and food) and energetic level] keep time with Mother Earth. It rooted all beings, all life, in deep appreciation for one another, opening the heart center, so the deepest yearning of all creation could be clearly heard by each other. A grounded and openness of spirit and heart, modern man is too cluttered to feel anymore, let alone act from.

All beings were free to wonder the ley lines that called to them, sung to them. Some actual energy grids that criss-cross the planet, some water ways (above or below ground) that many animals still follow, less the way be thwarted by modern cities, fences, etc., other may be crystal and elemental energies deep in the earth’s crust. The Ancients, along with surviving indigenous peoples, believed that following the song sung by these vibrations “dances” into existence the desires of beings, not just that of the two-legged, but her other nations as well. This is the dance of life, how the body knows to pray when the hara line is grounded/plugged into and open to Mother Earth and Father Sky; an energetic tree-like template growth of the energy field that both grounds and aspires.

The hoof beats, the drum beat, the song, the dance. The matriarchs of large herd animals, elephants, horses, even pods of whales follow these long held generational songs to bring future generations to areas of nourishment/safety. Original peoples in some continents use this system to bring healings to other beings and the planet. Feel the vibe, sing the song; move the feet, the healing comes into existence, a very pure state of being, allowing and awareness.

Beings un-encumbered by modern life’s’ impositions may still know how to follow this song, and their feet remember their dance (specific to individual), a dynamic essence of ancestral and momentary awareness spins the story. This is the beginning of having dominion over footstep/hoof beats. Reciprocal movement between man and beast may have been initiated here, whether by fear or fun, or something yet unknown. It is inspired by a choice of volition, not forced imposition (will), for all beings, a birthright, the gift of being in the moment and awareness, on multiple levels.

The Great Mother provided an abundance modern man can no longer fathom. Vegetation changing with the seasons, nourished body systems. The gift of knowing self’s body clock, the Circadian Rhythm, not as imposed by cultural, society’s or familial norms, but only as self can know itself to be. When to rest (a gift greatly denied in modern life), when and what to eat (the birthright of eating clean, deeply nourishing food instead of overindulgence, stuffing self with dead, plastic food void of life force and poisoned drink), soul purpose and desire. How many two-leggeds really know themselves on such an intimate level – let alone honor these soul longings that keep self safe and healthy?

When self if void of this birthright of deep and intimate knowing, it will infect life in the web with expectation, imbalance and imposition, rather than sincere harmony. Manifestations of misconstrued attempts at “correction” spring from this most basic lack of discernment. This is the crux of many a rehabilitation issues with horses.

Balance Reciprocates Within, Emanates Outward

When self receives the gift of knowing one’s rhythms and preferences (whether one works best later or earlier in the day, food that agrees or disagrees, weather that compliments selfs’ volition, etc.), rather than that imposed by cultural and familial expectations, self embraces the treasure of knowing ones place in the grandeur scheme of things, the spoke in the wheel one is. This births the present of keeping the ego in check and not yoking life with false, pre-programmed expectation.

In an automated society, humanity has given much power and earning potential to machines. This reciprocated in humanity, the notion to be more machine-like. Conventional meds play a huge role here, as one simply covers the symptom and self keeps going. A society of exhausted, adrenaline junkies attempts to speed through a course of illness to return to the mechanized dance of earning the daily bread. For this very reason, some will gravitate to only conventional medicine or abuse natural means of healing in the same context of covering symptoms, as the ramifications as to what Soul sold out too, are to disturbing to fathom, thus the delusion perpetuates and supports itself and adrenal exhaustion becomes norm, fueling a very skewed and de-habilitated dance as this depletion erodes action, integrity, judgment and intuition.

Before the horse provided transport and transition of dreams, its body provided nourishment. In knacking the carcass, the Ancients saw the layers of muscles, the way the muscles of the haunch dovetail into the muscles of the back, the chain of backbone and soft-tissue, the way the opalescent fascia that binds all flesh together, glowed like mother of pearl in the arched ribcage that like a sacred cathedral, houses the horses’ incredible heart. If modern riders could see this magnificent architect first hand – would they still ride with such arrogance and ego?

In the purity of the ancient world, the essence of horse and man merged, perhaps giving birth to the notion of shape shifting. Ideals will always find physical manifestation and man found himself on the back of the horse, exploring far away lands. The transition to other worlds began, in Spirit and physical realms.

The Mongols were fierce warriors. Folklore handed down generations tells of a people so feared, other nations paid them “tribute”, sums of treasure, to insure their lands would not be raided. They were known to take excellent care of their mounts comparative to other cultures of the period and conquered a great deal of the world as a result. Some believe remnants of these horses survived in Hungary. Some also believe this “tribute” or “treasure” is still buried somewhere in Hungary. Perhaps the real treasure interned here is this love and knowing of horse, buried in the DNA of distant generations.

Posing Vs. Riding

When humanity becomes so disconnected from the ancient beat of the ley lines, it is easy to be “duped” to the passing fancy of “style”.  Horsemanship is no different than any other human fashion. Riding and training styles vary, but the enmeshed dance of horse and rider withstands eons. This goes way beyond the notion of “natural horsemanship”, for nothing we do is natural with our horses. It is a very old yearning of the heart, to meld with one of Creations most magnificent beings. When the yearning of the heart is heard in both directions, of man and beast, then a gift is born that truly enhances both beasts. It is an old song some recognize. Anything less is delusion and harmful.

“Training”, as most know it, is an interesting thing. In the ideal context, it enriches, in other cases it dumbs down. Many a broken beast will testify they knew more than before the two-legged “styled” them. These horses will be crippled by the time they are “trained”. The diagnose does not matter, for at the heart of the insult, was an overbearing human who “eyed” the beast for “conformation”, “potential” and “fixing” the problem horse with the pinhole opinion the two-legged provides. An ego driven judgment the horse is all too familiar with, paid too high a price for and often, rightly shows resentment for.

Early on most are taught the art of posing (equitation) on a horse. Locking the very muscles and joints needed for flowing with the cadence of the horse. Breath shallow or held, jaws clamped, lower backs concaved, shoulders and arms locked, pelvis and hips clutch the saddle with a tight groin – their horses mirroring the same hollowed, sucked up frame. Hands see-sawing the sensitive mouth and over bending the poor horses head in a misguided attempt to slow the feet down that struggle to maintain frame, rhythm and balance. This programming of tissue is something most riders will struggle to undo once their soul decision to a more sympathetic riding style is made, for just as the horse, this initial programming will be their default mode till something truer becomes ingrained to the cellular memory.

Sensing the Invitation

In energetic healing, one is often led by prompt or idea, to be at a certain place, at a certain time. This is the beginning to sensing the invitation or permission to engage in what self wishes to participate in.

Deep belly breathing (the kind that utilizes the diaphragm) fills self with the atmospheric prana that facilitates fueling the dreams pulled from the ethers. It serves as a fundamental signal to all living things, peace of intent and integrity of motion. All living beings perceive the holding of breath as danger, fear and incongruence. Most humans have no idea they are not breathing sincerely. Here lies the first clue to all animals the human’s hara line (energetic core) is not rooted deep in the Mother (Earth) and fragmented.

In various forms of body and energetic work, this invitation is sung by the tissue. Those with the healing art sense the song, root their hara and know just the right potency to ring through the fascia so it may begin to unravel its story.

Many times when working with difficult horses, the work is best done in the absence of guardian and trainer. The images in their mind is a fearful repertoire of all the poor beast has stuffed, endured and reacted to, they have not yet gathered the gift of neutrality, when the beast of relieved of their ego driven burden, the work can be conducted safely and with a much deeper level of trust and release.

In Equine Guided Healing, this same sort of “tissue/energetic permission” is sought. It is often the safest place for man and beast to begin the dance of sincerity, on the ground, at liberty, the only tool is self.

Breath, ease of motion and connection to the elements become clear as the human learns that by unlocking their own held bodily patterns (letting go and allowing), there is a definite transference to the horse (body softens, effortless motion flows), even though the horse is at liberty on the outer parameters of the ring. This has huge implications for those that know the gift of listen; for once mounted the transference of held imbalance is on the path of direct transfer.

Cellular Programming, Releasing What is Trapped in Tissue and Beyond

Many in energetic healing arts have long known all that is experienced in life will be encoded in the DNA. Experiences, that which is ingested, ancestral - all find a place in these intertwined strands of self. Science is now catching up to this knowing.

Fascia is another of those “taken for granted” tissues, whose memory is misunderstood and underestimated.

Fascia wraps all organs and muscles. Bands of fascia criss-cross the body that stabilizes movement. It is the opalescent packaging that collates the body. Some believe it to rival the nervous system in transferring information to self. If there is an organ suffering imbalance, the fascia tightens. The same goes for muscle. This tightening of the fascia is thought to be the culprit for skeletal subluxations. Depending on schooling, it is the classic case of which came first – the chicken or the egg? The beauty of body/energy work addressing the “whole” gives greater insight and possibility of regaining graceful motion as opposed to getting stuck in what self thinks it knows. The gift of feel is that no matter the art self is skilled at, body work, horsemanship, etc. that silent endowment of letting go what self believes to be truth and being in the moment, speaks a volume of information that leads to a benevolence the pinhole perspective can never provide. So here is the crossroad where the horse becomes the sentient teacher, if the ego is shelved so self can justly listen.

Those who are under the impression this tissue (fascia) can be “pushed” through “healing” are morbidly mistaken. This tissue tightens through insult (physical and mental), the act of forcing the resistance will only cause increase in the tightening, till the tissue becomes locked (in extreme but all too common cases). If perchance it seems as if the horse did “break through”, the equestrian has only been fooled by another clever layer of compensation the poor equine presents as “try”.

Here is a place many an equestrian struggles as the aspiration of ego clash with guilt. She knows the horse is willing to please her, unto its demise. So many a diagnose are nothing more than tissue pushed too far. It does not matter if the diagnose is neurological, muscle, tendon, etc. If the horse can, it will. Such is his nature. Don’t abuse this privilege.

Here too many in the healing arts abandon the “diagnose” (its part of the picture, not something to get “stuck” on); for beings will suffer a host of named diseases (depending on the specialist consulted), until the final devastation is “named”.

Many will ogle and awe as the horses posture changes with a healing session. The first ride after they mention the horse has never traveled better. Despite the warnings that the tissue is healing, and may take months (or years) to completely recover, the ego pushes on with agenda and the tissues slips back to locked compensation, characture armour and lameness, as the equestrians’ skills have not evolved to honor the healing tissue. Many horses need to keep a certain amount of this “characture armour”, to stay safe from an imposing guardian.

As below, so above; lameness in the feet compensates in the spine. Imbalances in the skull reflect in the pelvis. This topic too deep and individualistic for this piece, but know you can’t have one without the other. The equine spine contends with forces of propulsion from the haunch, carried through the front end, oscillating back and forth through the spine with each hoof beat, not to mention the downward exertion from the body sitting astride. Rider imbalance and compensation make the whole body (of the horse) a mirror reflection of inadequacies in many cases.

This poor riding is often initiated early on as most “lesson horses” are aged and encased in this “characture armour”. With whip and spur most are taught to “push” the horse through the gaits. These patient beasts endure sloppy hands and bouncy seats as new equestrians struggle through their own fears and locked body habits till they find and reach that fine balance between a secure base, engaged core and supple, breathing joints that harmonize with the movement of the horse. Many riders never quite find this place.

Most riders have never ridden a finely tuned horse. One that knows its own body and how to use it well, transitions, gaits with strength and conviction (many horses cannot because of very poor training methods) with hoof beats that are honestly grounded in Mother Earth and reciprocate/reverberate that grounded healing between each hoof beat back to horse, rider and the planet. The hoof  lingers a bit longer on the ground.

Such a finely tuned beast will often reject lesser riders, or lesser riders can quickly ruin such a horse if ill will is allowed to take precedence.

Riding such a horse is very effortless as both beings are tuned in harmonious synchronicity of secure base, musculature and thought. Congruency exits on all three major levels of sub-conscious, conscious and super conscious. At this level of riding, the horse is the barometer for absolute truth; the relationship has no other option. Bridles and saddles are not necessary, there is no delusion, there is no need for the illusion of control, self-control leads this dance.

So how does self emancipate from the illusion of control the cues, the bit, the saddle, the whip, the spurs provide? A deep soul decision is made, to remember who we are and where we really come from.

By following the prompting of ethers, the deep belly breathing that fuels the inspiration pumped by the heart and a deeply rooted reconvened relation barefoot with the earth sings the way. Feel the vibe, sing the song. Work from the ground till both human and horse reciprocate joy and appreciation in their footsteps from the ley lines to the heavenly stars above.

It is here self may begin to feel pains not their own; the horse sending the message of insults past, registering in the tissues of self as a reference point not to be crossed. Self needs absolution of a secure base to grow past the judgments and criticism of all other self imposed guru’s at this point. The horse is the teacher; the rest can only provide keys, the doors are only for self to open.

Movement is essential to reprogramming tissue. On the ground, at liberty, the horse will let you know the preferred direction of travel. How the feet meet the earth will give abundance of information of areas of pain and compensation. If barefoot, the smallest foot, the one that has not carried its share of the whole, the large splatty foot, the one taking too much of the toll, the club foot indicative of a possible transversal rotation of the entire spinal column. How much do you really know about the beast you intend to “train”?

If ease and release can be accomplished at this level, games and tricks invite exploration of movement the horse may have been conditioned to fear. Many a wide-eyed expression on rehabbed equines gives credence to acknowledgement to the intelligence behind those large liquid eyes. Now the glow goes both ways. The horse is inspired to voice its judgments and opinions as it now has found a safe place to do so. This trust is not to be violated; it is the very foundation that will keep self safe when working with such a potent and benevolent being. It is not fear, it is listening.

If the mutual decision evolves to being ridden, the breath must not be forgotten. Deep belly breathing opens the sincerity of the heart, keeps the lines of intuition flowing gracefully and provides sanctuary for both man and beast.

Most two-leggeds have no idea the tension locked in their pelvis. Sitting squarely in the center of the triangle formed by the pubic and seat bones initiates a secure base/seat. Alignment of ear, shoulder, hip and heel synchronize with the horses’ center of gravity. Deep breathing and slight bearing down of pelvic muscles will transfer to the horse a relaxed feeling and most will drop their heads to the “neutral” position. Trusting the lack of tension, joints in the human that fold and flow with the rhythm, a new dance begins. Spurs and whips are not necessary here, coercion is not relationship.

A host of gymnastic exercises may have been mastered on the ground and can be advanced upon on horseback. Care must be taken not to use these as show standards exaggerate. They were designed to unlock potential of movement, yet most are inappropriately applied and in the wrong hands can cause more harm than good. “Holding” the horse to form with “inside leg and outside rein” are clues the horse is not is self carriage and imbalance has been transferred, as does the rider being bumped to the outside seat bone when turning. The feel of correct motions flows, from feet, to spine, up through the rider, a current of sovereignty courses through both beings. Small increments, turns on the forehand, turns on the haunch, shoulder fore, shoulder in – where is the tension held, what stretches and releases? What has been locked in the spine and cannot be produced? How much do we really know? Never enough.

The work of Jean Luc Cornille compiles a host of research into grace of movement and return to old school cavalry basics to undo many riders ills unto the horse; sacroiliac joint pain, transversal rotation of the vertebral column, navicular disease, kissing spine and more. How much is self willing to let go of and let the horse be the advocate for his own safety from the false trap of human ego?

Paradigms die a hard death, just as the ego. The horse world is wrought with such arrogance; the horse long suffered the consequences. Laws do not inspire integrity; that springs from self knowing its place in the grand scheme of things. Do no harm.

The genius of Albert Ostermaier, the only person ever to train a horse to canter backwards, his gifted riding allowed his magnificent Standardbred Patriot to evolve collection to the point the horse found the “gaits between the gaits” and could rack like Tennessee Walker without implementing torture to achieve the gait or collection. This has huge implications for those with the wherewithal to search so deep, quietly and respectfully, the horse is limited by our own lack of depth and feel, for nature deprived us of nothing. The core is infinite; our fears color and set our limits, self hate batters brilliance in ourselves and everything we touch. The Still Point reveals all, if self is willing to travel so deep into the labyrinth of life and dimensions, astounding possibilities exist.

And Beyond the Beyond

Once self acquires such a gift, any form of riding where more “push” is expected feels sacrilege. There are many set norms for achieving this level of riding. These may be experimented with or self may choose a quiet moment to usher in a whole new learning curve for man and beast. Choice and options abound, it is only when self locks into mind sets and comfortable norms that life stagnates and the quest for refinement fails.

When pre-programming trapped in the tissues and conscious are released, the super-conscious is freed and readied to animate dreams. Nature embraces this letting go in humans. Circumstance conspires and in the silence of the Natural world, the lessons the voice of the horse initiated catapult ten fold as the template of the cosmos offers more.

From here some choose to leave the confines of guidance domestic creatures provide. It is only an organic evolution that the wild creatures show up as totems and guides.

Perhaps they were always waiting in the background, or in the patience of the Great Universe, the wild beings make their way unto self’s’ life to aspirate the boundaries of possibility a bit further.

At this point self will seek the solace, comfort and wisdom only the natural world can provide; humanity and its tendency to shroud knowing in division, debauchery and anesthetics losses its grip.

The call of the hawk draws the eye skyward. Self sees the rainbow colored air-currents she rides. The same rainbow colored currents the fish below follow. The template behind the template, the reality that precedes the future; an addictive reality self has found as grounding aspects connect and upper aspects open and branch to eternity.

The mother creatures of other Nations feel safe to show self their ways and how they rear their young. My God the gift self has been handed! Precious little ones, lost in innocence of exploration, guided by furred, feathered, scaled matriarchs that sing that song of long ago to generations into the future. Too many two-legged learn this only through their own young. And so it is the future that may teach the past, if self is grounded, open and inspired to do so.

This addictive glimpse of the eternal, this cognizance of all time existing at once gives self the permission and ability to jump timelines. Where does one go from here?