I close my laptop, take a deep breath as I stand up from my chair and stretch.  The dogs sense my movements, open their eyes, stand up, stretch, and yawn.  They walk to the door with me and impatiently wait for me to get my winter gear on before heading out the door.  Not a human word has been spoken, it is quiet here and our conversations come through in our body language and intent.  The dogs run ahead of me and through the barn.  I start to think about Cherry, since she is who I need to bring into the barn for a lesson.  I close my eyes for a second, make sure I am grounded and breathing properly.  I check in with my body and release any tension I may have.  I stand up tall, feel my feet on the ground, and let my joints and muscles move me towards the mare’s pasture.  I think of Cherry as I pick up the halter, unbuckle it, and drape it and the lead rope over my arm.  I let the ground support me, I open my senses, feel the gentle breeze, it has a hint of warmth in it, I do believe spring is in the air and it makes me smile.  The earth smells alive, wet from the melting snow, the ground is softer but still hard underneath a layer of mud.  I must be mindful of where I place my feet since the ground is partially frozen and uneven with hoof prints.  I reach the gate and take another deep cleansing breath.  I open the gate and try not to make a harsh sound with the chain. I don’t want to disturb the herds spirit and energy.  The horses notice my approach, I scan them to find Cherry.  I see her, but she hasn’t acknowledged me yet.  I think of her, and what we are going to do together.  I think of her student.  I hold him in my mind, I allow what his energy feels like to come to me so I can hold it in my heart to show Cherry. 

She knows I’m coming, I see her ear swivel towards me, and then forward again.  There, she turned her head and looks at me.  I stop walking, my heart says hello to hers.  She moves her mouth, I see her lips twitch and then she yawns.  I continue my approach and stop short of her.  My heart says hello again, she looks away at the bale, then over towards her herd.  She really doesn’t want to come to work today.  I nod my head, my heart says, I know.  I hold her student in my heart and let her see him.  I give him a name, so she knows him.  She likes his energy, her eyes turn towards me again, her ears prick forward, and she leans a bit towards me.  That’s her invitation to come in, I approach and gently strap the halter on her head.  I turn to face the direction she is facing and we share space together for a moment.  My heart asks her “are you ready?” she shifts her weight forward and our energy connects as we walk back to the barn together.  I tie her up and gently start grooming.  She pins her ears when I reach her chest, I soften my hand and gently stay there for a moment and she relaxes, her lips quiver, then she yawns.  I continue grooming, watching her reaction and adjusting when she tells me I need to.  Her student will be here in a ½ hour and I need to put the saddle on.  I show her this in my heart and go to get her stuff.  I set the saddle pad on her back, she holds her breath, I step back and just share space with her, touch her shoulder gently, and she puts her head down and yawns.  I go get her saddle and gently place it on her back.  Don’t pull, she says with her face and ears.  I won’t my heart says, trust me, I’m watching you.  I see you.  I see your anxiety.  Ok, she says, go ahead, be gentle.  I will I say.  I finish putting on her gear and we stay silent together, sharing space, sharing thoughts through our body language.  I love being right here, in her world, trying to listen to what she is saying.  It’s so quiet, peaceful, calm, as we explore ways to talk to each other.  I show her the student again, she sighs.  It’s ok we can do this.  I know she says, it’s almost time.  We connect again and our bodies hum with each others thoughts and energy.  She’s sleepy, I feel that.  I am too.  I notice we both are swaying as we breathe, we hear the birds, the swan, the geese and the ducks swimming in the pond.  We feel the breeze as it gently touches our faces.  The sun feels so warm, it’s nice that winter is almost over.  It’s been a rough one.  We both slip in and out of relaxation.  The only sound is our breath.

 Then WHAM car doors slam, dogs go running.  There is so much noise.  Voices, laughing, running, barking, I yearn to go back to the peace we had, but it’s time to enter another world.  I must quickly change the way I was thinking and put it back into humanness.  It’s louder, harsher, startling.  Others are getting into our space too fast.  I can’t think of the right words to say hello.  They don’t see that I’m startled, I’m trying to say hello.  I shake my head, get myself back in my body and make a shield for Cherry, she’s not ready yet.  I stop my student, ask him to get her bridle and I walk into the office with him.  I find the human words to say hello to his family.  Tell Boomer to get down, feel Lainey against my leg.  We get the bridle and walk to Cherry together.  He feels my energy and slows down.  I gently put Cherry’s bridle on, and he responds to my quietness.  He looks at me and smiles, I smile back.  I ask him to take her for a walk.  He connects to Cherry, she sighs and moves with him.  She remembers him, she likes him, and she enjoys helping me teach him.  His energy is good and he is learning how to talk to her.  He feels her and is quiet.  She likes that.  I must use my human words to talk to him, but I use the horse’s words to show him.  He likes that.  Sometimes I get lost trying to find the human words, it is hard to be human when the horse’s words are so easy.  They use their bodies, their minds, there intent, and their energy to tell me what they want to say. Humans are hard, they use words, but their bodies say other things, their energy jumps around, one second calm, then another worried.  Sometimes I feel caught between the two worlds, not sure of who I am, or how to speak.