Meditations on Oaks

I was lying in bed, thinking how can I capture all of this experience of Sweden, of the course on Empathic Communication?

Mainly, because I don’t want to forget.

I want to remember the in between…

Is it a list of things to remember, is that what it is?

And in those spaces, I started to list the memories; and it felt good… and in the listing I remembered the WHY.

The Yoga classic chai in the morning before everyone was awake, gently walking the creaky floor boards and connecting to the house that held living things even ghosts from the past… they knew I was there, they knew before I even knew I would be there.

Or the black or purple coloured jam that I spread across my oatmeal porridge filled with fruits, nuts and seeds, something that I had not indulged in for quite some time rejecting it as a food source. Now it was a breakfast dessert alive with fruity undertones and effervescence. Belong in my morning ritual to enlighten my day.

Or being so incredibly full of meatballs and lying on the ground with the dogs sensing a thunder storm that was predicted rolling in. Arguing with my self about eating chocolate cake or not and if it was worth it if it didn’t have cream to compliment. It was the last dessert of the days I had been there and also could I leave the perfect roll I had been on in imbibing in dessert throughout this time?

And I realised through all of these thoughts – it was the moment to moment goodness of feeling alive

Aliveness

And bumping into others feeling the effervescence of aliveness too…

Where the breath of sunshine crossed my cheeks and face or the coldness after the lake when we journeyed to the edge of Surtung to meet the inside of the mountain.

Or the delight of the spongey moss that I could squeeze with my feet

The ruddiness of my complexion reflected in the mirror.

Full days in the sun.

An exhausted body waiting for the sun to go down. With friends on the seat in the kitchen echoing my thoughts.

Picking my way over the mountain in bare feet, sticks reminding my sole of it’s tenderness.

Or puddles squidging through my toes.

Ignoring the pain

and of unexpected stones in the lake and pushing through the mud and sludge to take a pony swimming.

Because I could!

To find our way around and around… moments of suspension as the pony swam, and my body streaming behind as I clung to Misty’s mane.

Memories of myself as a 10 year old kid, finding moments of happiness in the rivers at Montgomery farm where I first learnt to love everything horse.

Or filling my flask in the morning, packing my rucksack for pleasure.

Hot chai that burnt the roof of my mouth softening again with the delight of bitter chocolate.

Leaning on every word from Emelie’s mouth as she explained trade and domestication.

My ego shattering as Sweden became a place to rewild some more, to move out of my comfort zone and find my stretch boundaries.

I would survive…

Squeezing my mind by exercises that I wasn’t sure I was getting right or achieving the gold standard for certification.

Over and over again being in communion with my SELF for 40 minutes as I contemplated another individual: A blade of grass, a minute flower, a rocks age or a tall tree…

Holding possibility in my mind of my age being the same as a rock on the sea scape or a seed just sprouting like the baby oak or birch dotted about on the forest floor.

Not caring if they grew for a year or 100 years.

Realising I cannot promise a fern!

ANYTHING

But I can sit with them for a while.

Or feeling a couch at the base of a tree and resting my back against it.

Mexico the horse extending his hoof like a handshake drawing me into connection and conversation with him and the sigh of relief realising we had a lot to share in our trust of humans to carry the load of helping others as he processed for Sprite a new horse in the herd struggling to heal.

The shock of Sprite in the forest at the back of the field, taking shelter from the rain like me.

Relieving my bladder, the gush of pee!

Anton the horse, knocking into my world.

Presenting himself

My attention – standing up

His sitting down – my mirroring

Trying to leave behind the thoughts, “What should I do”

Nothing – Everything

Brushing the flies from his face

His neigh in dream, his feet moving as if running to flee.

Removing the stone (found in his hoof) – my fingers being just strong enough!

Lying with him face to face, snoozing in the sun.

Being witnessed by two other humans.

Witnessing flies over eyes of many horses, their faces streaming and trying to get my head around what I had learnt from Emelie, the flies are cleaning!

This is strange for me. I am still learning

And back to NZ, lying in bed as the birds herald the dawn. And Bruce's woof to say it is morning and time to get up – can you hear me??