A Message From Galahad

20140520 ST Galahad (9)Sometimes the imaginal component of my work with horses is more obvious than at other times.

The other night, on the edge of sleep, I was jolted by an image: My big buckskin Galahad was right there in front of me. He seemed huge, and his energy was high, with a distinctly unpleasant edge to it. He barged into me and nearly knocked me over; then, just as suddenly, he was gone. I came to complete consciousness as I tried to catch myself to keep from falling.

It was an extraordinary experience whose “reality” was as intense as if it were actually happening. I sat straight up in bed, heart pounding. The image was not related to anything I had been thinking about—I had been peacefully drifting off to sleep.

Knowing that I had a client coming the next morning to work with Galahad, I made a mental note to be a bit more cautious around him, just in case. Then I went on to sleep.

Next morning, my client and I walked out into the pasture to get the big guy. He saw us immediately and headed our way…and just kept coming. His energy was just as he showed me the night before. The flies were driving him mad, and he was in a terrible, sullen mood—I doubt that he got any sleep at all. Fortunately, I was prepared for this attitude. After I moved him around the pasture pretty strongly for a few minutes, he calmed down. Once he had some fly spray, he was much better.

Pretty amazing.

It’s actually not the first time he’s “spoken” to me like that. A year ago, we had to put Galahad in a stall for a couple of nights because he seemed to have some version of the flu. During that time, I took his temperature several times. Each time, he stood like a statue for me.

It turns out that Galahad HATES the thermometer, and he let me know in the same way: I was nearly asleep the second night when suddenly, in my mind’s eye, Galahad jerked his head angrily toward me as I was inserting the thermometer. I came wide awake with a start—it was so obviously real….

He’s contacted me in a gentler way by sharing a dream (you can read about it here), and I can often sense his energy from home. But these “tantrums” are strange and a bit unsettling! However, I’d rather know about his moods ahead of time than discover them accidentally.

How interesting!

 

 

Cross-posted on The Alchemical Horse.

All Shall Be Well

20160430_192242A few weeks ago I had another amazing experience.

I had spent a couple of nights sitting up with my beloved Miss Ellie the Cat, who, at 23 years old, is on borrowed time. She was having one of her bad spells, unable to keep down even water. Her discomfort made me wonder about intervening, about helping her cross that Rainbow Bridge. Surely she was suffering way more than she needed to.

Ellie, though, has let me know in no uncertain terms that she is NOT ready to leave this life. When she’s ready, I’ll help her if she wants help; but not until she tells me so. And so I sat up with her all night, just dozing, because she seemed comforted by my presence.

My choice of reading and late-night television echoed my mood: North of Here, a novel by Laurel Saville. Such troubled people, such damaged people; so much loss. A documentary by Anderson Cooper about his mother, Gloria Vanderbilt. Such troubled and damaged people; so much loss. The news: a building collapse in Kenya, a “mistaken” bombing of a children’s hospital in the Middle East. So much loss.

Life…and death.

The next afternoon I went to the grocery. We were out of cat food, and Ellie by some miracle was up and eating again. That cat has used up about 17 lives so far, I swear.

A big storm was coming in, but Ellie was hungry, so I decided to try to get to the grocery and back before it hit.

The sky was absolutely amazing! I don’t believe I’ve ever seen such sharply defined cloud formations. Despite my worry, I stopped halfway up the hill to look and try to get a couple of photos. But as I started on my way again, I noticed the “Get gas NOW!” light was on. Oh dear. On this particular car, that light comes on at the very last minute before the gas is GONE. Rats. I’d need to stop before heading for the store.

But at the top of the hill, distracted by the beauty around and above me, I turned toward the grocery instead of the gas station. Oh no…. The last thing I wanted was to run out of gas in the pouring rain.

So I “checked in,” to see if my intuition had anything to say. “All’s well,” I heard. So despite some misgivings, I decided to believe what I felt—there was plenty of gas.

As I pulled into the parking lot, the storm was all around. Brilliant lightning, incredible clouds, and clearly lots of rain to the north, but no rain here. So I raced into the store, got the cat food, got back to the car—and a few rays of sun came out under the clouds. So unexpected, and so beautiful.

I knew there would be a rainbow. Sure enough, there it was. I would have missed it altogether if I had gotten gasoline first (the gas station building would have been in the way), and if I hadn’t known to turn and look for it.

Couldn’t help myself: I hollered at a couple of women passing in the parking lot. “Hey! Look at the rainbow!” They both looked and smiled—they would have missed it if I hadn’t called their attention to it. One went on to her car after a brief conversation; the nearer one stood and told me the story of Noah and how he believed what God said and so he and his family were saved while everyone else perished.

So I think the lesson of today is that indeed, as Julian of Norwich wrote almost exactly 600 years ago, “All shall be well; all shall be well. All manner of thing shall be well.” Believe in God’s promise, and always—always!—look for the beauty even in the midst of the storm.

The heavens opened just as I reached my front door….

 

Things Are Moving Again!

20160511_105912I thought about titling this post “Be Careful What You Wish For.”

After many years of wanting to bring my work more into the public eye, I was invited last fall to present a program to our local Jung Society. Originally, I was going to talk about my dissertation and how it had opened me up to the imaginal world. In the end, though, I decided to talk about the imaginal world itself, and how it manifests in our lives.

“Encountering the Imaginal,” presented in early April of this year, was a huge success. There were more than 60 people there, and—unusual for our group—nearly half of them were men. They weren’t coming specifically to hear me, since almost no one there had ever heard me speak.

I had a blast, and there were lots of good comments and questions, both during the talk and afterwards. Since then, clients have come looking for me, and both sessions of the study group I’m offering as a follow-up to the talk are nearly full. Wow….

Clearly, this is a topic that many people are interested in. We all want to make sense of our lives, and our culture doesn’t have a framework for understanding non-rational experiences unless they’re of a strictly religious nature—yet we all have them. My work is a step toward developing the kind of framework that will allow us to use these experiences as information, in the same way we use anything else that happens to us.

The success of the talk would would have been terrific all by itself. But even more exciting, my own personal growth has kicked into overdrive, and my imaginal friends are hovering around, anxious to help both me personally and all the people I’m encountering. Again, wow….

So. That’s fine, but what does that yellow-painted thumbnail in the photo have to do with anything?

Well, does anyone remember “Red”? A life-changing exploration of the archetypal power of that color, and of what it meant in my own life, accomplished through focusing on and surrounding myself with the color red in every form I could imagine. A wrenching and transformative experience it was, for sure, but not one that I really want to replicate.

I’m now working on “Yellow,” which has shown up in a big way of late. I’m hoping it’s not quite as exciting an experience as Red was. Yellow, it turns out, is a color I’ve avoided even more than I used to avoid Red. Hmmm….

Yellow: Caution, or warning—road signs, school buses, police tape. Warning—bees and wasps. “Notice me! And stay away, or else!” Consequences. Cowardice.

Yellow: Cheerfulness. Sunny mornings and blowing curtains in my mother’s kitchen. Sunflowers, forsythia, daffodils—Mom’s favorite flowers.

Unlike Red’s sturdy, solid presence, Yellow in its bright phase seems loud, aggressive, and belligerent. “Look at me!” it screams. Softer yellows, like butter or lemon, are gentle…but I still don’t like them.

Isn’t it interesting that Red is RED, and only Red. Versions of red have their own names: rust, pink, rose…. Yellow—in all its forms—is still yellow, modified by a separate word. Except maybe butterscotch, which is yummy.

Well, we shall see. For now, the only things I possess that are yellow are these thumbnails of mine, screaming at me as I type this. I can’t yet bring me to go find any clothing in yellow, not even a scarf. But I’m working up my courage.

To be continued, I have no doubt…..

A message from Dad

DadOn the way to see my wonderful chiropractor/energy worker yesterday—this woman is the only one in the last 15 years to give me hope of working through the pain in my jaw—I met another angel. This one came in the form of a homeless woman who stood, huddled against the fierce wind and stinging snow, near the stoplight at the bottom of the freeway off-ramp.

I couldn’t read her sign, but it was obvious that she needed help and was likely asking for money. My initial reaction was two-fold: 1) I wanted to give her the $5 that was all the cash I had in my wallet, and 2) I was afraid the light would change before I managed to fish my wallet out of my back pocket. God forbid that anyone behind me should be inconvenienced by my “charity,” right?

Kindness won out over worry, and I got the wallet out, signaled to the woman, and lowered my window. “Oh, thank you!” she said as I gave her the money. “I’m hoping to get my room tonight!”

“God bless you,” I said. “I’ll keep you in my prayers.”

We locked eyes, and she smiled at me, tentatively. Then the light (which had stayed red for what seemed like a VERY long time) turned green. And for the next few minutes I did pray, fervently, that she be warm and safe that night, and that she be granted whatever she most needs on her journey.

The session with my practitioner went well (if you don’t mind the acupuncture needles she stuck into my neck, arms, and shoulders), as always. Lots of releasing of energy, some lovely/painful massage of sore and stuck points, and even some direct work on the painful jaw area.

Then she said, “I think your father is coming through.”

From our earlier discussions, I knew that she sees or senses my “entourage” of imaginal friends, relatives, and Guides, so it didn’t surprise me too much. We had been talking about some of my earliest memories, trying to find the pre-verbal, psychological roots of the pain in my jaw.

She asked me a little about him, in the way mediums often do: Did he wear a lot of red and yellow? (Yes.) Did he like plaid? (Oh yes.) Then she said this:

“He would like to thank you for stopping for the woman. He’s proud of you and your kindness.”

Oh, wow. I hadn’t mentioned the woman to her, or to anyone—the encounter had just happened, and no one but me and the woman even knew about it. Other than my dad, apparently, and whoever else had been hanging around in imaginal space.

I actually laughed (and cried a bit)—it was like something from one of John Edward’s sessions. It’s what John calls “validation”: where the medium reports something that he or she couldn’t have known about and that would be VERY unlikely to be the result of guesswork.

I don’t absolutely NEED this kind of validation in order to know that these things are the real deal, but it’s sure nice! Thanks, Dad, for coming through!

My practitioner friend went on to talk about other things Dad now appreciates about me that he was never able to verbalize while he was alive. Dad acknowledged how protective I was of him, and how loving…and how he felt that, in life, he might not always have deserved my dedication and kindness.

I’ve written here about my troubled relationship with my dad: Like so many women, I struggled all my life to “earn” Dad’s approval, but never felt like I had it. Two hours before he died, as he sat in his recliner so weak he could scarcely move, he was checking my arithmetic on a list of some purchases I had made for him at Walgreens, lest I be asking for more than I had actually spent. I mean, everyone knows I can’t add, but I do know how to operate a calculator, Dad. Really.

Oh—and one more thing: Last night, doing some video editing in the living room, I turned on the TV “just for company.” I almost never watch anything but PBS, but for some reason I had on the Disney channel and “Mulan,” which I had never seen.

Have you seen it? If so, you’ll know that it’s about a young woman who doesn’t fit society’s expectations for femininity, and who struggles to win her father’s approval and bring “honor” to her family. She goes off to war in her aging father’s place and saves the kingdom…or something like that. I admit I wasn’t paying very close attention. But at the end, she comes home triumphant, and her father tells her how proud he is of her…. I heard that part. And then, in my head, I also heard, “…and you don’t need to work so hard at it.”

Awww…. Thanks, Dad! What a lovely encounter this was. There IS something about hearing things from an “external” source (in this case, in my practitioner/friend’s voice) that you THINK you hear internally. It helps me be sure that I’m not just imagining it. I’ve said before that when you work with imaginal figures (including Guides and friends who’ve passed on), you have to be exceptionally careful that you’re not perceiving something just because you desperately wish it to be so—i.e., that you’re not letting your imagination rule. Not easy…and so it is very comforting to be getting the message in the way I did yesterday.

Comforting, and healing….

Another Encounter with God

Cirrus_clouds2 by Fir0002 Wikimedia commonsI had an amazing experience the other day, driving to meet a friend in Eureka—another “encounter with God.” It’s so hard to describe those experiences—there really aren’t words that capture the feeling…but no matter.

The sky was beautiful as I was driving down the freeway. Had I not been late for my meeting, I would have stopped for a photo. There were little, puffy clouds in the sky, not many—but they looked like they were “melting,” dripping down and being blown away. I’ve never seen anything like it before in my life. (The photo, from Wikipedia, is only vaguely similar.)

I always say that any time I want to feel closer to God, to the Divine, all I have to do is look up at the clouds. That was never more true than on that drive that day. I’m sure there’s a logical and scientific explanation for those cloud formations, but never mind that—it was such a beautiful and amazing thing to see that it was hard to keep my mind on my driving.

Wonderful! Wonder-full!

So I’m driving down I-44 with my mouth hanging open, saying (actually out loud), “God! This is amazing! How did You do this? How did You make clouds?!”

There is a strong part of me, especially when I’m dealing with the natural world, that’s still child-like, even after 64+ years. At times like this, I’m just filled to overflowing with wonder and delight, and I can’t keep still about it. So I’m driving along just full of joy and wonder and the love of life and gratitude for being alive to experience all this beauty—laughing with gratitude and wonder—and suddenly I “hear” a deep, rumbling, joyful chuckle that burbles up in my mind’s ear. “Why, thank you!” says this huge, indescribable Voice. “I’m glad you like them!”

I really do think it was God.

Can God be delighted when we so appreciate His creations? I guess so…. Jung and the Sufis, at least, believed so.

The Being who responded to me was the Judaeo-Christian sky god, the bearded white guy in the sky, I’m pretty sure. This is the God whom I was raised to believe in. He (and it was a “He” who spoke) is the way that I relate to and perceive God in these moments. I think it’s because at these times I perceive Him as a Being with a somewhat-human form, someOne with whom I can have conversations and a personal relationship—a relationship that comes out in funny ways like this.

It seems a very child-like way to experience God—so simple and uncomplicated. It’s an experience of someOne big and powerful, a real Father-figure, and the entire thing is unquestioned….

It was such a great experience! It’s like God and I shared a chuckle. What a blessing—another moment of God’s grace.

I love that the Divine takes so many forms, and I love that one of those infinite forms will take thought of me, one tiny person out of billions of humans here on this earth, and share a moment of wonder with me.

Wow.

A State of Grace

20150913_075652The topic for discussion at the recent dinner meeting of our Pacifica group was “grace.” What does that mean? How does each of us define it? What have been our experiences of grace in our lifetime?

Thinking about the topic on the way home from the barn that afternoon, in preparation for the meeting, I remembered instances where what I experienced seemed like a state of grace. I have been blessed in this life with so many!

I’ve always felt that what we call “the grace of God” is always available to us, if we can allow ourselves to accept it. We’ve gotten ourselves separated from grace and from our divine nature, but it seems to me that “grace” is always there. It’s our natural state.

A friend once chided me gently when I told her that. No, she insisted, the grace of God is something that’s only available when it’s given, that is, when God decides, in His wisdom, to grant us grace.

But I don’t believe that God—or however one conceptualizes the Divine—is conditional. I think that’s a human thing. I think the grace of God is always there—we just have to somehow be able to relax into it and accept it. It doesn’t always look like we want it to look; it’s not necessarily “happy.” Some of the most profound experiences of grace that I’ve experienced have been deeply painful times, where suddenly in spite of the agony that I’m going through—in my case it’s been not so much physical pain as emotional—all of a sudden something opens up and I’m just so incredibly grateful for the experience and for my life and for the blessing of being alive to it all…. Gratitude has a lot to do with being able to perceive grace.

Horses, and probably all animals, live in a state of grace most or all of the time. They’re not surprised by it when it comes upon them, because it just IS; we humans are surprised by it because we’re so separated from the natural acceptance of what is. We’re so busy trying to do stuff and fix stuff and make stuff. Trying to relax into grace is very hard to do! It’s so foreign to what we spend our lives at.

Grace, in my experience, is a gift, a gift that’s given without strings—and it’s always there.

[Cross-posted on The Alchemical Horse.]

And more compassion….

2013-10-02_13-57-04_965Woke up the other morning from dreams that didn’t stay around long enough to remember. The only image that remained is this:

I am with someone, and we are watching a beautiful but sad young man. I touch his face gently but from a compassionate distance; he may not even be aware of me. The feeling was very loving.

When I actually woke up, I was really sad myself, for no obvious reason. Am I the beautiful young man in my dream? It would seem so…and my Higher Self and I are filled with compassion. Hmmm….

Blissful acceptance

20150506_195945Last night I had an odd but wonderful experience in the middle of the night: I woke up, concerned about the pain in my jaw. It was feeling “hot” and beginning to be spiky, though still not what I would call painful (I expect most people would, though). I lay still, hoping to be able to keep it quiet enough that it wouldn’t go full-blown. As I lay there drifting around, half-awake but aware of what was going on, this showed up:

I feel I’m in a big, finished basement—“my house,” in the dream. There’s a room that’s big enough to dance in, and I’m enjoying a waltz with a casual friend of mine who’s a very good lead. I love to waltz! In this dream, or whatever it was, I realize the joy is in the dance itself, and doesn’t depend so much the person whom I’m dancing with.

Then the odd part starts:

I find myself in a strange, peaceful state of being where I just watch things going on. I watch my emotions, watch or review the events in my life, and am filled with wonder at the way they happened. There are things that in waking life I might wish had happened differently, but in this state of being, there’s no regret associated with any of it. It’s mostly a state of observation, but I’m not “neutral.” This not the Witness—I feel plenty of emotion! But it’s wonderful! I love this life of mine—every bit of it!

For many years, I’ve consciously cultivated the Witness—that state of consciousness where one can observe, without judgement and without emotion, what’s going on. Being able to observe oneself and others without emotion or judgement is enormously helpful in getting through tough times. Though difficult to constellate at first, it gets easier with practice.

This state of awareness was definitely NOT the Witness. It seems related, in the sense that there was no judgement present. But there was strong emotion: an enormous sense of love and compassion and acceptance that’s like nothing I have experienced in my everyday life.

Strange as it felt, I was not asleep, though I was deeply relaxed and had my eyes closed. It was a real, waking state of consciousness, not a dream.

It felt very odd, but very good indeed! I can’t remember exactly what I thought about (though I do remember some things that in my waking life have been HUGE disappointments), but it was all observed with that same sense of loving acceptance. It was not “dispassionate” or emotionally removed in any way. I was there, awake and aware, and it was my life … but I was loving and accepting everything that had happened just as it was.

At one point, a more dreaming moment, I looked out the window and saw snow falling, and said, “Look, it’s snowing!” The joy and pleasure I felt in seeing that cool, wonderful image was immense.

After a while, I drifted off to sleep, with no thought or experience of pain the rest of the night. And when I woke, that blissful feeling was just a memory. There is no way I can conjure up that state of being! Maybe someday I’ll experience it again. I hope so—because it was wonderful!

Lucky Encounter

800px-Kaldari_Phidippus_audax_01The other day I had a fun and funny experience on the way home from the barn:

I was driving along with the windows open (air conditioner is broken) and saw what looked like a small wad of black and white lint “blow” up onto the dashboard, in the sun, and skid around in the breeze. On closer inspection, it turned out to be a good-sized jumping spider—Phidippus audax—a full-grown one, looked like.

These guys are my very favorite arachnids. They’re so willing to interact—and their vision is spectacular, so they react to your tiniest movement. This little gal was SO hot—the air temperature was 94 and it must have been 125 degrees on that dash! She kept hopping around, looking for a cooler spot.

I didn’t want to leave her in the car, so I pulled over to try to figure out how to capture her. In the meantime, she disappeared down the dashboard toward my right leg. Worse yet, even if I could find her again, I didn’t have any container in which to try to catch her.

But I tell you, that spider’s guardian angel must have been working overtime. What I did have was an open, insulated glass of ice water sitting next to my seat. And wonder of wonders, when I looked down, the spider was dangling from her dragline, all eight feet spread wide in the air. I picked up the glass, moved it under her, and voila! Spider on ice!

She was pretty shocked by the temperature change. She “froze” for a couple of seconds, then began moving v..e..r..y …. s..l..o..w..l..y on tiptoes over the top of the ice cubes, and that gave me plenty of time to get out of the car and deposit her in the grass next to an open field.

Lucky girl.

I smiled all the way home.

Photo credit: Phidippus audax by Kaldari, from Wikipedia

Galahad and the White Dog

2014-06-03_17-41-12_601

Note: This post is NOT linear, and it’s long…but bear with me. It’s worth the time to walk through it with me.

Part One: My Horse

Let’s start with a video made a couple of weeks ago for an online class. The task involved getting my horse to come to me, instead of going immediately to a pile of goodies placed in the center of the arena. When he comes to me, I take him to the goodies and he gets to eat. Galahad knows this game from past classes, and he likes it. He’s so good at it that he doesn’t even LOOK at the pile of treats—he just comes right over to me.

This time, for some reason, I interpreted the exercise differently, and decided it was about keeping the horse away from the pile. I wanted him to stop and wait and still not try to get to the treats. Why did I change the rules? I’m honestly not sure. It seemed clear to me at the time….

So poor Galahad circled me, round and round, very slowly, stopping occasionally to ask if he could come over to me so that I’d take him in for a treat. Every time he’d stop and ask, I’d send him off again. I just stood there, not even looking at him, policing the pile of goodies, keeping him away and refusing to let him come to me when he asked.

After 15 minutes, Galahad did stop. He stood there, looking pretty sullen, and did not attempt to go to the pile. Then, in utter frustration, he threw a very quiet hissy fit. I’ve NEVER seen him behave this way. At the time, I was almost happy that I’d gotten that reaction. Why? Dunno….

Eventually, I decided he’d been good long enough, and I called him over to me and took him to get the treats. He came, but he wasn’t happy with me; he wasn’t enjoying this game at all.

But I was so pleased with the video! I had kept my horse away from the treats and gotten him to stop and stand still! Yay!

On the conference call, my friend the instructor pointed out another way of viewing the situation—from Galahad’s perspective. Oh. Well. That looks quite a bit different. I was pretty shocked at this new viewpoint.

Had I been aware in the moment of the “game,” I would have seen the significance of Galahad’s “hissy fit”: He was NOT having fun doing what was supposed to be a fun exercise. But as usual, I wasn’t in the moment with my horse. Nope. I was in “trainer’s mind,” working to MAKE him stop and stand still. Furthermore, he had to stop without my influence—so I wasn’t even allowing him to get my attention when he asked for it. No wonder he had a fit! He must have been SO confused and frustrated—I had suddenly completely changed the rules of a game he knew well and really enjoyed.

OUCH.

Part Two: The Pain, Again

The last seven weeks have been a nightmare much of the time. The pain in my jaw and tongue returned on the third of March. Why? This time, I know the answer.

In February I started paying attention to the “Law of Attraction,” which in its simplest form just means that “like attracts like.” For years, I’ve known that people, things, and events show up in my life because of what I’ve always called “resonance.” People in our lives are there because there’s something in our experience or in our energy that is similar. We attract those whose life stories reflect our own in some way, or have similar themes. The Law of Attraction.

No problem with this—it’s just the way the world works. But enter Abraham-Hicks (Esther Hicks and the entity who call themselves Abraham), who specialize in large-scale events at which they share their patented inspirational messages on how to create our own reality.

Abraham-Hicks and their version of message has a pretty militant sound to it. Abraham, channeled by Esther Hicks, is a brilliant and inspirational speaker with a kind of take-no-prisoners approach. Control your thoughts; choose the best and highest thought in order to get “into the vortex” and manifest! Feel joy! That’s why you’re here—to experience joy! It’s up to you! The tone sounds just like my dad.

So I started controlling my thoughts, all right. I felt great! I felt joy! I monitored my thoughts at every moment and made sure I was feeling JOY! If anyone could get into the Vortex, I could—because I could monitor my thoughts!

Can you imagine someone hearing, “Be joyful!” and interpreting it as a command, with dire consequences for failure? No? Well, that’s exactly what I did. I drove myself nuts, policing my joy. But really, it’s not so surprising. That’s how I was raised. That’s how Arthur, my father, taught me. My dad was always DOING something, and it had to be perfect. No sitting around for him! Sitting around (and, presumably, experiencing joy) was a sign of sloth. And so we kids learned that we had to be busy. And oh, did I mention perfect, too? Yup. One “B” marring a report card full of “A’s” rated a scolding. I’m sure many of you know exactly what I mean.

So a few days into my “you will feel joy!” episode, I woke up in excruciating pain…again. It has gone on for nearly seven weeks now, and it’s just beginning to let up. A few days into it, I no longer cared about feeling joy. In fact, I couldn’t even imagine joy any more. All I could manage was to survive from one day to another. Once again, I found myself unable to eat, sleep, or talk. Anything creative was completely out of the question.

Part Three: Putting It All Together

Journal entry, April 15th:

Wow. The conference call last night was tough. I was so wrong about that video—I can really see that, now. But it fits a pattern, doesn’t it? It’s Kay-as-Arthur again, the Arthur who’s now living inside my head, the Arthur who taught me what the world was like and how to behave there. Arthur the Perfectionist, Arthur the Drill Sergeant, Arthur the Enforcer.

I still can’t get rid of the image of the White Dog. I’m certain that the dog has something to do with all this….

OMG: just now, a really scary understanding—that innocent, playful pup crushed beneath the wheels of my car; my own playful innocence also crushed. But what does the car represent?

And besides the white dog…. The pain this time began just as I was working—WORKING!— with the Abraham-Hicks stuff. Constantly policing myself, policing my joy, for Pete’s sake!

“Policing my joy”…. That image is the same one that was captured in the video of me and Galahad doing that exercise the other day. It could not be clearer.

There in the video is my poor Galahad responding as I probably did when I was a kid, when nothing I ever did was good enough for Dad…. And I just realized that Dad, if he ever thought about it (and he might not have ever done so until after he crossed over), would have been so sad to realize that the relationship between us wasn’t working the way he wanted; but he had no idea how to do it differently, or even that any different way existed….

The White Dog, crushed under the wheels of my car. My car—my way of moving through life. The dog, that happy innocence, crushed under the wheels of my way of being-in-the-world, which I inherited from Arthur, and he from his mother Anna, and she from (I suspect) a parent or grandparent. The saying in my family is, “There’s one in every generation.”

And me, little Kay, crushed under the weight of my father’s expectations. Wow.

That way of life, the way I was taught by my father, is relentless. “Relentless” is an excellent word for it. It never, EVER relents. There’s no relaxation, no peace, certainly no “let it be, let it unfold.”

After the accident with the dog, my Guides kept saying, “Some things cannot be prevented.” That’s true—on many levels. On this very personal level, it’s clear that with my current mindset, neither I nor Galahad (nor the unfortunate White Dog, for that matter) has any hope of anything changing. But now I can SEE what’s happening, and maybe, just maybe, I can make a change.

So anyway. Joy. Innocence. Trust. Three things that seem to have been lost to me as a child. Three things I want to retain and develop in my horses, and regain for myself. But that can’t be done by coercion, by policing, or by suddenly changing the rules.

I am so grateful for all the events that have helped me see and understand the full significance of the way I’ve always lived my life. If you don’t see something, you can’t change it.

So I’m going to change it…but calmly, quietly, by letting things flow.

Wow. What a funny place this life is, eh?

[Cross-posted on The Alchemical Horse.]