Embody Mental Health

Posts Tagged ‘sonoita’

(ABOVE: ME, ANN, DEBRA & KATHY at XANADU RANCH B&B)

“He who lets the goat be laid on his shoulders is soon after forced to carry the cow.”

Italian Proverb

LIFE IN STRIDE: WALKING, TROTTING, & CANTERING INTO CERTITUDE

My time at the “Riding Your Way Into A Mutual Relationship” workshop brought a flooding of insights, clarities, and a chance to practice advanced mental yoga–really getting my mind into a centered and unshakable rhythm.  Kathy, one of the other workshop participants created the term “Om Trot” to describe a trot that one can really breathe into.  In Nancy’s (my favorite yogini/psychiatrist) urging me to practice Kapalabhati exercises while I was desperately trying to convince my elderly steed Max that a canter might be a good idea she created a spontaneous practice that I will now call the “Kapalabhati Canter”.  It seems to me that there is yoga in every step, every breath, and every motion of riding.  From what our feet say about the emotions contained in our body, to what a reflective round pen session can tell us about how we define our relationships in life, to how we sit on the back of the horse and how we breath into the stride of a trot or a canter can say about what we relay to another breathing being.  All I see when I look at the equine-human experience is yoga in every touch and every hoof beat.

The more I see what is wrong for me in life the more certain I am of what is right; perhaps life experience is a process of elimination getting to what works by way of all the stuff that doesn’t.  My certitude in what I believe persists, even, and especially, in the face of dealing with a lot that I do not want clouding the path to my destination.  We must walk before we run.  We must trot before we canter.  I feel that I am in the early trot of my life.  I know I want to canter, I am certain of what feels right, but for now I am just trying to find my groove in the Om Trot of my life–and trying to enjoy the pace.

BOUNDARY GOATS, GOODBYE.

My feeling, as someone whose bulk experience with horses is in the form of groundwork (as a novice rider and one working primarily with the therapeutic relationship groundwork is so rich for exploring how we feel and act in the world and with horses), is that there are profound levels of self-awareness and relational connectedness that can be explored when one is face-to-face with a horse.  This is true face-to-horse and it is also true, as I found in impromptu case studies, face-to-goat.

As the above quote says, “Those of us who let goats be laid on our shoulders…” and I have, historically, been one to let goats be laid on my shoulders.  Well, not literally, until Sonoita.  I take on all I can take and then I take whatever is left over and although I constantly remind my patients about self-care, setting boundaries, laying down what is ok in our lives in clear lines, when it comes to my life I am constantly being reminded that I need to take the goats off my shoulders and sometimes just say “No”.  And, as animals are great barometers for boundaries I am constantly reminded by the furry counterparts in my life that I need to be firmer when I draw my lines.  My dogs remind me.  Horses remind me.  And even these tempestuous boundary goats in Sonoita reminded me–set the line and be firm or you’ll end up with a goat nuzzling all over your shoulder…and even without horns that can be “ouch”.  So whether metaphoric or literal goats I think we all have to be conscious of when we need to say no in our lives–when we need to take the goat off our shoulders.  And when in Sonoita be careful of goats with a penchant for nuzzling that might just reveal your inner boundary issues.

IF YOU WANT A BIT OF A LAUGH WATCH THIS VIDEO CLIP: A Boundary Goat & A Pup With A Napoleon Complex

ALOHA SONOITA, HELLO CHALLENGES.

I feel as though I could write about 50 posts just on my time in Sonoita, Arizona.  The people, the experiences, the palpable profundities.  But I can’t.  Life and blogs continue at a pace that leave little time for too much for too long and too in-depth.  Which is why, as I knew it would, my Arizona experience which falls on the precipice of another realm of my work, passion, and dream of what can be, will be a lengthier exploration in my book.  I am excited to get working on the equine chapters of my memoir and taking my 21 day challenge of 800 words a day as a provocation to get my literary butt in gear–memoir-wise.  I am glad to have a booklength work to be able to go into the nuances of past, present, and future of this journey of mine far beyond the span of what blogging allows.  That said, I want to give Sonoita and my time there a great blogosphere Aloha–not a goodbye, not a hello but somewhere in the linguistic in-between where, like aloha, this post will be goodbye and hello all in one.  In leaving Arizona I felt myself beginning something new and so Aloha describes it best.

The greatest thing I take away from my time in the desert–above and beyond intellectual and emotional pursuits–is the human connections and dear friendships I believe where born on the mat, in the saddle, and everywhere in-the-twain.  Even at “Steak Out”–restaurant appropriately named for it’s array of meats and one veggie burger (I am going to be honest, all those meats and I nearly had a filet mignon relapse!)–where after 3 days that felt like both too short and also forever we all gathered, workshop leaders and participants alike, to laugh and jabber about passions, writings, and the future of equine facilitated practices.  I feel like I have met a wonderful collective of kindred spirits–with visions of stables dancing in their heads, same as mine, and a few new yogini converts to boot.

I received a wonderfully passionate email from Debra, also a workshop participant (and “Om Trot” Kathy’s girlfriend and proud human-horse “mama” of Sonoki–beautiful and smart young horse with a bright future indeed), in which she gushed excitedly about her passion and the work her and Kathy were doing to make their dreams living and breathing creations.  I was so excited for her and so happy to know another passionate soul following their dream.  At the end of her email she surprised me with some beautiful things she had to say about me, my dreams, and my passion.  Being, personally, in a place where life is overshadowing dreams this past month to hear these words from a friendship forged in 3 days (and an eternity) was moving beyond words–although I can’t help but word-y it up anyway.  I am very appreciative of her email coming just when I needed to hear those things–and wonderful to come as I round out the Sonoita blog post excursion.

And just when I thought the Arizona collective had said its piece for today’s blog piece I got the following blog comment from Shelley, in response to THE 21-5-800 CHALLENGE: ”Ok I’m in for the challenge. Only mine will be five rides, 800 words, 21 days!”

All I had to say in reply was, “It better be full of Om Trots!”

WORD COUNT FOR TODAY’s POST=1286 WORDS (I have posted my quota for today and now I am going to give myself a relaxing Savasana before bed…thank you CHALLENGE for giving me what I need!) Don’t worry I will not be filling my quota daily with posts–tomorrow I am working on a book chapter instead!

“There is a boundary to men’s passions when they act from feelings; but none when they are under the influence of imagination.”

Edmund Burke

“The place where you made your stand never mattered. Only that you were there… and still on your feet.”

Stephen King

Since I returned from Sonoita I have been assessing my emotional state, feet first.  There is a very pointed reason for this.  A wise horsewoman and trauma survivor with a casual penchant for qualitative research pointed some really profound things about the nature of the foot and reading body language from the toes up.  In all my time focused on somatics I had never given much attention to the foot–almost none.  But I met someone who spent her life’s work noticing the nuances of human and equine body language from head to toe and with a very finite lense on the feet.  In traditional psychotherapy the feet are not a focal point but in horsmanship the foot, where it is, the angle, the flexing and all, are the language in movement between horse and rider.  So, of course, the well-versed horsewoman Shelley Rosenberg has been spending a career looking at feet in a way that I, as a therapist, never would have thought to–she can read the language of the body in a completely different way than I and, it seems, feet have been speaking especially loudly to her.

Even at a distance her acute vision notices things like toe curling in a boot and feet flexing on tippy toes.  She tells me this as she notices my toes curling in my own Mountaineer size 7′s as I sit with some dis-ease atop Max–an elderly white horse who is teaching me a lot about what my body is saying to him.  She tells me that she noticed her own toes doing this while standing, walking, or crossing her legs as a sort of last stopping point for trauma or tension trapped in the body.  She found that even the trauma survivor that had peeled back all the other layers and evaporated all the other clenching of muscles seemed to linger at the toes–hanging on to that one last muscle of control and space to prepare for danger.  A person’s whole body could be lax, she tells me, but she can read what they are really feeling with one glance at their feet.

Until she mentions it to me I don’t notice my own toes clenching, unfamiliar with the back of a horse and the gait of a trot, I had ,unknowingly, clenched my last bit of muscle and flesh–hanging on when I didn’t even realizing it.  But since she pointed this out to me all I can do is realize it; I am assessing my life in steps and flexes.  And finding it to be amazingly accurate on a personal case study level.  I am beginning to explore myself and my emotions…feet first.

I was discussing the other day the ripples and waves that are created in the self post-trauma and post-PTSD.  I have shed the PTSD of my self and have been lifted to a beautiful place where I can explore this life after Post Traumatic Stress Disorder.  In the process I am attuned and aware of my “self” at a new level of clarity.  In this awareness I am learning more about the ripples after PTSD.  I am exploring those things that linger in me that are nowhere near that of a DSM-IV version of any disorder but are, what I can only describe as, the ripples and aftershocks; the behaviors and responses in body and mind that have to be undone after years spent in a state of constant fearful survival, raw and empty all at once.

This exploration of my sensory responses and my emotional sensibilities through my feet is another layer of that onion of aftershocks.  Now that I am thinking feet first I have found my toes to be a very accurate barometer of how I am feeling, even below my own first glance interpretation of myself–at the layer below conscious or superficial self and down to the muscle and bone, “subtle self”, if you will.  I wonder what we all might discover about ourselves if we spent a little more time in our toes–also the place of grounding and centering and rooting into the earth.  In yoga I have spent much of my time for myself and for students exploring rooting into the earth with every toe, from heel forward, but in psychotherapy and daily life I have paid it less attention.  Now I find myself starting in myself, in my patients, and in general, eyeing the world feet first.

Take a look down at the ground and see what you find!

O for a horse with wings!

William Shakespeare

SO THIS IS YOUR PASSION?

I am sitting on the plane trying to whittle out the nuances of stories, looking for a way to bottle the last three days of experiences in the container of words.  It’s hard.  The woman next to me looks anxious and I brace myself for another flight next to a severe flight-o-phobe but instead she asks me why I was in Tucson while staring with curious amusement at the large and stiff ring of rope I am trying to stuff below my seat.  I say, “Horses,” but seeing that she isn’t quite satisfied and her eyes, still shifting between me and my lasso ring, are asking for a little more than a one word description.

I pause, thinking how to encapsulate what I was doing in Arizona, knowing that whatever I say could be less than enlightened.  I tell her I am a mental health therapist and I work with horses to help people through emotional problems but admit that I am trying to learn more about riding and horsemanship for my work.  She pauses and then in rich rolling espanol she says, “So this is your passion?”  Both question and answer, as if something in my eyes or the tone of my voice revealed the not-so-hidden-truth.  I smile, sigh a deep ujjayi breath, and say, “Yes.”

THE PRELUDE…

I knew in going on this journey out west and into the mountain-ridged skies of Arizona that I would be confronted with many things: emotional truths, passions envisioned, and dreams taking flight.  I set out from West Palm Beach prepared with pen in hand, yoga pants in tow, and hiking boots–yes, I still had not yet managed to get myself a good pair of riding boots.  I knew there would be yoga, creative exercises, mindfulness, and riding.  It was a yogini-equine-therapist-writer’s dream!  Although, before even landing I was already very nervous about the riding.

My riding experience was limited to the blissful summer camp experience and a variety of trail rides in a variety of countries; all with horses that were either spastic or sleepy from being over-riden by clunky tourists (like myself).  All my therapeutic “horsemanship” came from face-to-face time with my four-legged counterparts, not bottom-to-back.  I remembered the little girl who fearlessly cantered on her last day of summer camp and I hoped to rediscover some of her bliss–but I was afraid that age had only instilled skepticism and fear where imagination and bravery used to reside.  But as my stomach flopped with daydreams and fantasy I was hoping there was as much childlike excitement to outweigh the adult mind’s pesky critical thinking.

CHASING DREAMS TO THE BORDER OF MEXICO.

In the southeast corner of the southwest, an hour south of Tucson and less than an hour north of Mexico sits the unassuming town of Sonoita where the biggest restaurant is gas station adjacent and you can map out every constellation in the night sky.  I had chased my passion all the way to the Mexican border and found bliss on the first morning waking at the Xanadu Ranch, named by the owners since they had carried the sign and their horses from Ohio to New Mexico and finally settling on a large stretch of land in Sonoita.  Three black horses grazed in the tall dry grasses and the quiet of the air and the laziness of the hammock out in front of my door made me think I could spend days just hammocking my way to a higher state of being.

I had come out here to commit.  To commit to the dream of mine that included horses, yoga, and healing–something I believed in so strongly and had seen impact people so profoundly but I wanted to experience it at the other end of the lunge line and see what my clients saw.  In creating Prana Equus I knew I was giving myself over to my dreams but in coming out to Sonoita I was giving the dream wings and seeing what magic might come from seeing a space of healing outside of my own little cul-de-sac space with Angel Smile Farms and Maurette in South Florida.

I think the first morning, 9:00am, sun brightly shining through the windows of Shelley Rosenberg and Nancy Coyne’s yoga house on the property of their home and their barn, breathing in unison with my workshop-mates Deb, Cathy, and Ann at the direction of Nancy Coyne (MD, psychiatrist, and yogini-du-joir) I realized this was a special space and I was about to share a wonderful three days with a beautiful mosaic of souls.  Maybe horses can’t sprout wings like the golden Pegausus in the photo above but my dreams and my work with them felt like they were already taking flight to new and beautiful lands–in my mind and on the ground in every deep ujjayi breath.

So. This is my passion.

Nancy whispered softly with a little hint of jest, “Welcome ladies to the Om Hotel…you can check out, but…well you know the rest.”  I felt like I had come home inside and out.

CHECK OUT THE NEXT POST IN THE SERIES “GREETINGS FROM THE OM HOTEL”…UPCOMING!