“Good morning, Jane. Thanks for coming to help today. We have plenty of mud-caked horses who need to be groomed before we can put a saddle on them. Can you groom Sparkles please?”
Phew! The smallest pony at the riding centre. I thanked the centre manager as I walked off, relieved I wasn’t being assigned one of the Clydesdales. Until I saw Sparkles.
Her usual coat of chestnut and white patches had been transformed into a uniform brown hue. In place of her white mane and tail were knotted skeins of muddy string.
Something in the air stirred when I entered Sparkles’ stable. A thought brushed my consciousness, causing me to wonder if this quiet old mare didn’t like me. Instead of taking my time to wonder why this notion had arisen, I resolved to put on an air of cheerful competence in the face of the mammoth task ahead.
The grooming tools were more suited to a stable-kept short-coated Thoroughbred. They barely penetrated the long, thick winter hair of a pony who’d wallowed in mud for several days. This was going to take a while!
I started to talk to Sparkles, a lot, to reassure us both. Or so I thought.
Sparkles body language told me otherwise: she walked away; she turned her head to glare at me; she wiggled her ears in irritation; and she swished her tail frequently, not to swat at flies, perhaps at this pesky human.
So, I talked more. To calm this unhappy mare, and in all honesty to also calm myself, I figured I’d distract her. I’d talk, to take her mind off the arduous job of standing still to be cleaned.
While I was brushing near her front, she stamped one foreleg very forcefully. My busy mind was catapulted into silence. In that split second, a strong and exasperated voice spoke directly to me. I clearly heard the words “Less chit-chat!”
I didn’t say another word.
Within seconds, Sparkles let out a big sigh. She stood contentedly still and relaxed for the remainder of her grooming session. I let the experience sink in.
I recalled the strange shiver I’d experienced when I first entered the stable. What had passed between us in that moment? Had Sparkles detected my busy mind? Did she already know what she was going to contend with?
What a lesson I learned! Horses are masters at knowing what is carried within our energy. And there is much wisdom communicated in silence.
(With thanks to Jane for letting me share this story with readers here.)
Thanks Megan. Yes Sparkles did what she could from her horse language till she had to enlist some help from beyond!
Thanks Ian. How quiet the world would be if people only talked as often as horses!