A Different Way of Seeing
By
Leigh Shambo,
MSW
I’ve heard
people say that love is blind. But love is not blind! It’s
more like a kind of super-vision, an ability to discern that
which is valuable and precious inside another. You can see
right through some things, to see even more deeply into
others. The organ we use for this vision is not the eyes, but
the heart. Super-vision is about seeing with your heart.
....
The smallest
horse in my herd, a stocky 13.3 hand mixed-breed mare named Gem,
might be easy to overlook at first glance, when seeing only with
the eyes. She is sturdy and plain looking, a low-totem-pole
type of gal who often stays in the background. She’s not a
graceful mover, relying on clear direction and focus from a
rider to help her. A scar across her mouth causes her tongue
to chronically pooch out one side of her lips (in fact, the scar
goes deeper than that— inside her mouth one discovers that the
tongue is cut almost in half, although the circumstances of this
injury are known only to Gem herself). These are the things I
see through, which is not the same as being blind to them.
My dictionary
says a Gem is: 1) A valuable stone cut or polished for
ornamentation; or 2) something valued for beauty or perfection.
I have known Gem now for almost 10 years; she has lived in my
herd for the last five. Before she came to live with me she
belonged to my friend Kris, a regular riding buddy before back
surgery finally prevented her from riding at all. Kris would be
the first to admit to her shortcomings as a rider, and as a team
she and Gem were anything but polished! But this too I could
notice and look through, and with my heart I could look more
deeply into the equine Rock of Gibraltar, who kept Kris on top
and mostly in the middle in spite of Kris’s pronounced tendency
toward un-centered riding. Gem’s diligence in this task, her
generosity in spite of discomfort to herself, spoke to me of her
innate character, the value of the stuff she is made from.
When Kris could
no longer ride, or even care for her horse due to her painful
back, Gem came to live in my herd. Over time, she has earned
respect and even a certain kind of esteem for her patience and
her mild nature; and she has also been affirmed for her right to
set boundaries and make her needs known, both with me and within
the herd. My super-vision saw another side of Gem on the day
she met Ameer, a gelding who was quite enamored of her. But she
drove him back fiercely; teeth bared, mane flying back she
charged at him! He could only admire her from a distance of
about 40 feet. “You are so beautiful when you’re mad,”
he nickered. Ameer must have super-vision too!
Gem was
supported in showing her plucky side by Frieda, her best friend
by virtue of being the only other mare, and of course by me, in
my role of serving the social environment of the herd. I often
think of my five horses as being like one body, noticing that
with all of their differences and unique personalities they have
a way of balancing and flowing with emotional energies,
complementing each other as if they share one mind. If the
herd is one body, Gem would almost certainly be the heart; that
is her character. At the same time, when the moment requires
it, she can be fierce. Her soul doesn’t seek perfection, it
seeks balance.
There are
certain moments I especially notice the generosity in her
actions. Often, she will happily turn away from a pile of hay
in order to accept the bridle to go for a ride. Once, in a
workshop, this little horse with the big heart followed 5
different people through a labyrinth of poles on the ground—all
without a halter or rope! Another time, when I was grieving the
death of a cat who had lived for 20 years, it was Gem who stood
beside me in the pasture for over an hour, snuffling my hair and
licking my palm each time I held my hand out to her in
appreciation. In that moment, I knew she was seeing me with her
heart, just as surely as I had been viewing her character with
my own heart.
There is great
power in being seen with super-vision, even if it is only for a
few moments. Years ago, my friend Michele stopped by to visit
my farm. Michele was not familiar with horses, and a bit afraid
of their size and power. She arrived just as I was about to let
the horses come in for their evening feeding. My routine
involved merely opening gates to the different pastures, as the
horses each knew their own stall with its full grain bucket;
some nights it was a leisurely stroll toward their dinner, other
days it could be an exuberant romp which delighted us all.
On this
particular night, a cool wind was blowing and the horses were
full of its energy. The way that the two mares, Frieda and Gem,
were pressed up against their pasture gate, I saw that tonight
might look more like the Run for the Roses, or more precisely,
for the feed buckets. They tossed their heads impatiently. I
cautioned Michele to step well away from the gate, so she would
not be in their path. I saw nervousness in her eyes as she
asked, “Maybe I should just go in the house?” I reassured her
that if she just stood off to the side, she would be perfectly
safe, adding that the horses were beautiful when they galloped.
“OK,” she
said, backing up several feet, and then a couple more for good
measure. “I’m ready.” I opened the gate, and they were off!
Of course the long-legged Frieda was in the lead, but short and
stocky Gem was in hot pursuit—until she suddenly noticed Michele
standing off to the side. I saw Gem do a double-take in
mid-stride, looking at Michele, then back at the rapidly
disappearing Frieda, then back to Michele again. And then she
stopped. She turned toward Michele, apparently forgetting all
about the half-quart of sweet feed waiting for her in the barn.
With the
greatest possible gentleness, she approached Michele, greeting
her with a low rumbling nicker, delighting Michele with her
curiosity, respectfulness and undivided attention for several
moments before turning again toward the barn, this time at a
peaceful walk, licking her lips. Months later Michele said to
me (and she still speaks of the incident to this day), “I will
never forget that moment! That horse looked right into
my eyes. Right into my soul!”
Author
Leigh Shambo,
MSW is a
clinical therapist and educator whose
first career was horse training and instruction. Leigh
is widely recognized for her articulation of the
horse-human bond and its application in therapeutic and
learning programs. She is the founder and lead
therapist for
Human-Equine Alliances for Learning
(HEAL), a
non-profit organization that supports
equine-assisted services and programs for healing,
personal growth and riding/training.
Leigh is an Advanced
Facilitator
graduate of Linda Kohanov's Epona Center
apprenticeship
program and is EAGALA
certified.
