Yesterday, when I went out to get my horse, he was lying in the sun basking in the warmth that has returned after a cold, wet winter. He was not too interested in getting up from this sleepy state, so I haltered him from the ground and knelt beside him
I wondered how many more spring-time transitions we will share together. When I think in terms of this perfect moment and how easily it is to take it for granted, I am reminded of how habituated my unconsciousness is. Though, it’s moments like these that bring me home and tell me to pay very close attention to the warmth of this early, spring day. I don’t want to miss it. I want to smile and lean into each step.
This perfect process we call life, is what guides us and nurtures us and sends us forward on our path. Life has no expectation about wealth, or success. Life only requires our attention. The attention that is our true “life” is the awareness that is behind every thought, every act, and every sleeping night. That attention is our life and our process combined. It is important that we differentiate our “life”, from what it is that we are living.
Ray Hunt spoke of the “life” in a horse. I am quite certain he did not mean the box-stall or field he lived in, or whether or not he got hay and grain. The life in the horse is the spirit of the horse. I am stating that we too have that inner spirit. Life is not a dogmatic, do this to get that existence. It may be that is how we are living it. But that is not “life”. Connecting each day with the “life” we are given is the process of living with heart.
Living from Awareness
The Practice of living life from the awareness of what is, rather than the constant dialogue of trying to change it, offers a sense of freedom. Freedom from the empty thoughts that keep us stuck “trying to make a living.” We still go on making a living, but the differentiation between our life and what we do is a shift in perspective that can change our world and how we live in it.
In the field yesterday I didn’t hurry my horse to get up. I enjoyed the moment with him. Then he got up and we started our visit unified in presence. He makes me giggle. And to me, giggling is a spiritual practice. As I write and look out of the window at the bright, clear day – another step and another winter closing. I still feel yesterday’s giggle in my heart, that precious moment had no bearing on my income, or on the endless tasks on the “to do” list. But it changed my world. It shifted the vision I have today. That one comical moment of haltering my horse from his sleepy position re-minded me once again, to live with heart.