And why I feel I want to change gears
I’m feeling restless. Like in: I’ve taken the exam, can I please drive the car, now? I know I won’t be much good in the beginning, there’s still so much to learn. But I’m aching to get on the road for real.
What road? What exam am I talking about?
I’ve written about my journey to the plateau, and how I felt I was taking off from there, spreading my wings to meet spirit and do its bidding. Over the last few months I feel I have manifested this mainly through my writing, which has brought me great joy and fulfillment. And I have the feeling that in my own very modest way I am helping to make the world a tiny bit better. That’s enough for me.
But I do somehow feel like I’m ready to change gears and go up one level. Not that I’m getting bored with writing in any way (far from it, feels liks I’m only getting started), but I also feel the need to work with more than ‘just’ my words, sitting in front of my screen.
Traveling through Italy and writing about it was a very nice combination: both a personal in-depth experience and a creative prompt (that produced pieces that were pretty well read, too — double bonus).
Then, two weeks ago, for my first assignment since the holidays, I interviewed a woman who coaches people using horses. We had a very interesting conversation about why horses are such excellent mirrors in therapy sessions, and how interacting with them can teach us so much about ourselves.
Unfortunately I have a massive allergy for horses, so I will never get to work with them for real the way she offers it to her clients, but even visiting the herd, being greeted by them, feeling their quiet strength and calm, was a beautiful and touching experience.
Part of coaching with horses is about getting people out of their heads (which are constantly overthinking, judging and worrying — sound familiar?) and more in touch with their feelings (emotions, inuition, gut). I have already come a long way to quiet the chatter in my mind, but experiencing the energy of the horses and the herd, even if I had very little leeway for actual physical contact, had something resonate deep within me. I have taken a memory of this quiet power home with me and I am not about to forget it anytime soon.
Horses are out of the question for me, obviously, but it’s something of this kind that I guess I’m seeking. An experience anchored both in soul and nature, in sensing and being rather than thinking and talking. Something I can touch, or at least feel at a different level of my being.
On a lovely afternoon walk with my husband in the fresh water tidal river area we are privileged to live close by, we saw a sign for a holiday home for sale: a cabin with a fish pond. I admit I felt tempted for a minute. Or rather: this was also coming close to what I am being drawn to. Not this particular cabin, though. Way too much lawn, a pond I would never fish in and not enough ‘real’ nature. And then we’re not even talking money.
But still, it was the second little hunch in what seems to be becoming a trail of bread crumbs.
I am paying close attention to the path, all the while trying to make my jittery inner horse keep a steady pace. How you get there is where you’ll arrive, remember, Kirstin?