The Beautiful Path

Hello Fear, do come in...

“I have a duty to speak the truth as I see it and share not just my triumphs, not just the things that felt good, but the pain. The intense, often unmitigated pain. It is important to share how I know survival is survival and not just a walk through the rain," ~ Audre Lorde

In October of last year, I was driving back to my apartment and noticed that one of the horses was on the ground. Horses do lay down, they will roll on the ground, but something about this felt not right. I stepped out of the car and yelled his name - he looked at me and I said “get up” a few times. Finally, he got up and I went inside - I had a coaching call and needed to eat. A couple of hours later, I walked outside to check on him, something wasn’t feeling right to me. When I went out, he was down again and the other horses were looking at him and just in general everything felt off. I broke into a run and got to him. His nostrils were flared, his breathing seemed difficult, but most importantly he wouldn’t get up. I was jumping and clapping, and yelling. I tried rubbing and pushing and talking sweetly. Everything I knew to do. Now mind you, I had riding lessons with horses. I have brushed horses and fed them. I don’t know or didn’t know what to do if a horse goes down, gets sick, or does something out of the normal day-to-day. And, I was alone. My friends and folks, I work for left in September to return to the midwest and wouldn’t be back until November. My heart was leaping in my chest. I got my friend on the phone and am doing my best to explain what I am seeing. Reception is spotty so I shoot some videos to send to him. While doing this I see something that made me stop — the other horses, one in particular, were going over and nudging him and then biting at him. They are trying to get him to stand up. I started crying. This moved me so much. I was already in a state, but to watch the natural instincts of these horses try to help the sick one was amazing to me. They succeeded in getting him to stand, but not for long. He would go down and they would try again. I watched the nature of these horses, but also their roles so to speak. One of them is clearly the leader, one is more of a caretaker, and one stood off to the side -the only female, shyer and seemed to not know what to do. How like us they are in some ways.

My fears are stopping me-keeping me small and hidden in a corner. Stand me up and set me free from the tiny room of shadows, in which my voice wavers and my shoulders shudder. Help me call them out and name them—beckon them forward so that I may face them. Be my strength when I order them to back down…Arm me with a sword of light to slice through the illusions that I have too-long believed about myself…Guide me smoothly through the challenges and anxieties of the unknown. Redifine my relationship to uncertainty. ~Pixie Lighthorse, Honoring Fear, Prayers of Honoring Voice

Why am I telling you this story? Well, I wanna talk about fear. I was freaked out and scared at that moment, but my instincts kicked in even though I didn’t have a clue about what was happening. This was an emergency and luckily, the part of my sympathetic nervous system that says “fight” put me into action mode. I didn’t think, I acted. We need this kind of fear. This natural body response of fight, flight, fawn, or freeze is what can and has saved many of us in various situations in life. This response by the sympathetic nervous system serves as a way to “protect” us. Our body begins to produce hormones to prepare the body to respond to the perceived threat. This comes from long, long ago when our ancestors had more physical types of threats. Today, these threats tend to be more psychological or even brought about by trauma and PTSD.

When he returned a week later from the hospital, with an incision in his belly from surgery, another kind of fear appeared. This one is because now I have to take care of a horse that just had surgery. I have to handle a creature that is well over 800 lbs and not only him but one of the others too because he can’t be stalled alone (they are calmer when another is with them, again like humans). At this point in time, I have had very little interaction with the horses. I fed them daily, checked their water, brushed them a bit — that’s it. I didn’t know how to care for a horse just home from surgery and it freaked me out. Even equipped with the discharge papers telling me what to do, with this fear came anxiety and doubt. This was unfamiliar territory and yet it wasn’t.

Home and my horse friends- Pickles and Fever

Fear is something I have been dealing with, and working through for some time now. Some things that happened around it, I was able to act because there was clear-cut reasoning. For example, I had to close the studio so there was no income. I had a house and a mortgage. With no income and my three-month waiver on not having to pay my mortgage coming to an end, I feared falling into debt and losing my home. The clear thing to do — sell it. So I did. But other things were not so clear. My fear of what others would say, how I would be talked about for closing the studio, and fear of how I was going to care for myself and make a living to name a couple. There was a lot going on for me during that time, life is never black and white and so there was a lot that left me anxious, hurt emotionally, sleepless, and teary-eyed for a long time — even after I moved to Tucson, and then Panama, and then Colorado.

The mind is a curious thing. Admittedly, I probably was not in my body a good majority of that time. I was in my head. Trying to think my way through grief, fear, and sadness. Let me tell you, that will never work. I had my moments, where I would write, cry, and scream. But for the most part, I tried to figure out what to do next, without stopping to let things just be. I did things that made me feel good, like coaching, gardening, exploring herbs, hiking, walking, cooking, and painting. But I know now that I was doing those things in some ways to not feel what I was feeling.

I love the movie Elizabethtown. I’ve seriously watched it at least 5 or 6 times (do yourself a favor and go watch it). There are some great quotes, like this one: “Some music needs air, roll your windows down.” I feel that one. It of course has nothing to do with what I am talking about, but as a music lover, I feel that I needed to mention it. This one, however, does….”I want you to get into the deep beautiful melancholy of everything that's happened.” Mmmmm. That one. That one! I hadn’t done that in all of my doing, all of my running (which I am really good at by the way). I hadn’t let myself dive into the beautifulness, sweetness, and awfulness of all that had happened. I was holding on to a life that was and fearing the life that would be mine.

Native scholar Greg Cajete has written that in indigenous ways of knowing, we understand a thing only when we understand it with all four aspects of our being: mind, body, emotion, and spirit. I came to understand quite sharply when I began my training as a scientist that science privileges only one, possibly two of those ways of knowing: mind and body. As a young person wanting to know everything about plants, I did not question this. But it is a whole human being who finds the beautiful path. ~ p. 47, Braiding Sweetgrass, Robin Wall Kimmerer

A whole human being who finds the beautiful path. Those words. How true they are. Yet, for the last two years when it came to my healing and my fears, I was tackling them with only my mind really, sometimes my body. Here’s the thing I hadn’t really said aloud because everyone always said to me — “you’re living in Panama, how wonderful, how brave, how exciting.” Yes, all of that, AND I was still having panic attacks there because I wasn’t dealing with all that had happened. Did the waves soothe, sure they did? But I think the waves also said to me, there is more to explore. There is more that you need to see. Dive deeper. What are you missing? What haven’t you come to terms with? Who haven’t you forgiven? What are you afraid of? What do you want for yourself? What is your deepest desire at this moment?

Coming back to the states was hard because in Panama I was “living my best life” and didn’t have to face all I had left behind. Returning to the US was necessary for true healing. To return was to face me, to look at myself in the mirror and begin to explore. But also, additional fears came up again. A new one because of what I was going to be doing here. I was returning to live on a friend’s property and care for their baby, their horses, birds, dogs, and cats. How did you go from educator to business owner to caretaker? That’s what the voice in my head was saying (of course it was in the voices of all these other individuals). I didn’t tell folks (except my closest peeps) what was happening and what I was doing. Mixed in with the fear of what “others” might think was something else — shame. How many fucking layers does an onion have anyway?

I arrived back in the US on May 1st. My panic attacks started up at full strength that week. They didn’t stop until mid-September. I haven’t had one since. (*knocks on wood, hands in prayer*). In September I got off social media and the “other” voices in my head stopped. There was no way for people to question me (cuz they didn’t have direct access to me), there was no way to see what was happening in the place I had left in 2020, and I didn’t have anyone to compare myself to. Then, I allowed myself for the first time to actually start to slow down, to breathe. To feel. To accept. I choose to come here and I am so fucking grateful that I had a place to land. Moving to Panama took up a lot of my funds and while I was working there, it was enough just to cover expenses there. And moving back to the states, buying a car, and moving all my things to Colorado wasn’t cheap. And I didn’t have a job. After the pandemic, people that had jobs and lost them quickly went from doing well, to homeless in a short amount of time. Gratefully, that didn’t happen to me. Gratefully, I had a place to land when I returned. I CHOSE THIS. That became my mantra because instinctively, as much as this place where I now live was a needed necessity, it has also been a balm in my healing.

Another piece worth exploring is where this caring about what others think comes from. When I think about growing up, I remember hearing things about how I spoke (“Your daughter speaks so proper.” i.e: she talks like a white girl). I remember being told to straighten my hair before a job interview and not to wear it naturally. Making sure when I went to talk to my case worker or pick up food stamps that I looked respectable, and that they knew I was in school trying to “better” myself. Later, working hard to prove myself at an affluent, majority-white school so they knew I wasn’t just a diversity hire. There’s so much more. The point is that even from a young age, how others saw me was made to be important. It’s so hard to let go of what is so deeply ingrained within us. Conversations I was never a part of but heard, teasing from childhood - how these things can and do affect us well into our adult lives. Appearing even when we think we, for the most part, have our shit together (do we ever really have our shit together?).

Healing takes time. Healing takes time. Healing takes time. Healing takes time.

In order to heal, we must be willing to look at the thing. Acknowledge it, welcome it, embrace it, honor it, and then let it go. It ain’t easy, haha. But each time I do just this, I feel like I’ve stepped up another step on the human development ladder. A ladder I would much rather climb than the other ladders we were told to climb.

“When we drop fear, we can draw nearer to people, we can draw nearer to the earth, we can draw nearer to all the heavenly creatures that surround us.” ~ bell hooks

What would happen if I spoke openly and honestly about what is happening in my life? What if I look at where I am as the place I am meant to be? What if I continue to hold back and in doing so hinder what may be on the way for me, teaching me, guiding me? What if I don’t acknowledge all that is true at this moment? Will what is meant for me be revealed?

Where I am now, it is quiet. Here I walk outside and see Pikes Peak and other mountain ranges without the interference of noise, tall buildings, etc. My movements happen with the rise of the sun and the setting of it too. I see and connect to the raven, the hawk, the fox, the deer, the coyote, and the horses daily. I spend time with Mama Earth, feel the winds blow, and hear my breath and the beat of my heart. I chose this. Acceptance was a step I took in dealing with fear. I sat with that feeling of those words in my body daily. There is a tree on the next property that I felt called to connect with. Often, I would walk to it with my journal, incense or sage, and an offering of some sort and sit underneath it — meditating, breathing, writing, watching, sitting, just being. I slowly began to connect to my spirit, emotions, body, and mind. By disconnecting, I began to connect more deeply to myself and the world around me. I noticed that the thoughts, people, and feelings I had been gripping with a tight fist began to loosen until there was nothing left to hold onto. My heart opened up and forgiveness and love walked in.

Fever, the horse, is still on the mend. My duties dropped off for a bit as I too was healing from surgery but I am back at it now. I love these horses. Each of them has a unique personality and they are another source of joy in my life. The baby, E., is 20 months old and smart! He’s such a good babe and his giggle is like a bunch of balloons in my heart space. Emma, the barn cat follows me around everywhere when I am outside. And of course, Samson is ever by my side. FUCK, am I ever grateful for this dog! New teachers, and new guides, from them I continue to learn and grow. That dream that I had as a little girl of learning about and caring for horses is finally coming true. We never know how what we dream will come about, but if it’s meant for you it will come to be, somehow someway. Pade pade.

Until next time… be well, be kind, be love

PEACE!

To Ponder

Maybe what I wrote today resonated with you in some way. Life is messy. And I never want to be seen as one who has it all together or is living a life of perfection and ease. Do I want a life of ease? YES! But, self-growth is also important to me, and living a life where I am evolving is essential to living this human existence. Where in your life do you hear the voice? The voice that is fearful or says you are less than in some way? What do you need to face (and not being ready to face it is okay too - acknowledgment is step one and the steps need not happen in a “timely” fashion.)? If there are things you want to share, I am here to hear you. We are not alone.

For Your Heart and Imagination

The first book I want to mention left my heart aching. Such beauty and heartache. The Two Lives of Sara is set in the 60s in Memphis and tells the story of a young woman running from her past and finding sanctuary in the boarding house of Mama Sugar. I could feel these characters come to life in my heart. Pick it up, you won’t regret it.

I mentioned this book before and have recommended it to quite a few after a friend recommended it to me. The Invisible Life of Addie LaRue. A woman fearful of living a life she didn’t want makes a deal of a lifetime and ends up living a life unimaginable. I loved this book! I fell in love with the main characters and flew through the book.

For Guidance

I downloaded this Year Compass. If you are wanting to work through your last year, what went well and what was challenging, and then explore what you want for yourself this year, download this FREE guide.

Invitation to Practice

A short meditation practice of working with intense emotions. Remember that in practice such as this, the feelings can sometimes become too much. Practice in a place where you feel safe and comforted. Go slow. You may need to stop and let it all go and just breathe and return in a few moments or at another time. There is no rush.

From Me to You with Love

Thank You - Ross Gay, Black Nature: Four Centuries of African American Nature Poetry, Edited by Camille T. Dungy

If you find yourself half naked and barefoot in the frosty grass, hearing, again, the earth’s great, sonorous moan that says you are the air of the now and gone, that says all you love will turn to dust, and will meet you there, do not raise your fist. Do not raise your small voice against it. And do not take cover. Instead, curl your toes into the grass, watch the cloud ascending from your lips. Walk through the garden’s dormant splendor. Say only, thank you. Thank you.

Sacred Practices of Creative Mystics

My latest podcast conversation was with Sarah Ratermann Beahan. Sarah is a writer and creative mystic who believes that our stories can save us.  Sarah works with people to find healing through writing. Our discussion touches on our relationship with nature, the glorification of busyness, how to be cared for, sacred practices for introspection and so much more.  If you are interested in learning more about Sarah, check out her website Bewonderment and she will be launching an online Grief Writing Circle this spring. She is also on Substack Bewonderment.

Blessings!

Candace