There are two places to kiss a horse’s nose.  One is in the soft spot between the nostrils, where the two lines are here on Nelson’s nose.  The other is between the top lip and the outer rim of the nostril.  There is no silk or velvet, absolutely nothing that is as soft as those two places, nestled around the fragrant breath.

Nelson and I are getting reacquainted.  He is allowing me to be near him, but his dark side is dark again.  Not sure why.  He and I have not been able to work in our usual ways for a lot of complicated reasons.  Whatever has happened, all the cues that we built between us are rinsed away.  Today I tried to remind him, and he was doing his best, but at the same time, telling me that he does not feel easy with the things that used to be easy.

The one thing that he was totally happy about was having his picture taken.  Again, not sure why.  Maye it is the clicking sound that is like the click that I make when he does something that I have asked him to do.  So I tried an experiment, and took a lot of photos of Capprichio today as well.  He also was very interested in the camera, but more pushy.

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Here is a new chapter in the story of Nelson.  For the past month, he has not let me get near him.  We went from being good friends to something else.

There are a few reasons for this, having to do with out-of-my-control changes by his owners in his training program.

I like and respect the other person who is working with Nelson.  He is smart, horse savvy and can do things with horses that I would not attempt.  Having said that, it saddens me that Nelson no longer trusts me.  All humans look alike, I guess.

Today, I felt that he was looking at me, through me in a way, and that I had become unreadable to him.After a long while of hiding, he did let me get near him and I was able to pet him and do some very simple movement work with him.  But mostly he was ready to take off if the wind went through the trees.  For the first time I felt like it did not matter how calm and settled I was.  He was on his own track.  Watching his own inner movie, nervous system on full alert.

At the same time that this is happening, there is another Mustang around.  The lovely folks at Little Brook Farm in Old Chatham have brought Amado, a Mustang straight from the wild (after six months in a holding pen), to their farm.  Summer Brennan, the daughter of the owner, has entered the Extreme Mustang Makeover, a competition in which she hopes to take Amado as far in his training as she can in three months. She is documenting the process here.

When I first heard about the Extreme Makeover idea, I was nervous.  “Extreme” anything and horses are not really a good fit.  But Summer and Amado are.  Her idea is that he will tell her what he can do and when.  The basis of the training is love.  You can see it in the pictures.

I don’t know what will happen with Nelson. I am remembering something that I have heard Linda Tellington-Jones say when she encounters a difficult situation with a horse:  “Isn’t that interesting.”  That opens the door, and lifts the limits, which is exactly what Nelson and I need right now.

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Last week I went to see Nelson.  We are celebrating our one-year friendship anniversary.

Working with Nelson, one of the things that has eluded me pretty consistently is leading him.  He does not think that being led is a good idea.  And I don’t feel like trying to convince him of that with any kind of force is a good idea.

But last week, I set an intention to lead him.  As I got out of the car, I started to pick up the rope halter and lead, and then opted instead for a Tellington Balance rein – a piece of rope with a leather strap attached that can be buckled to create a circle.   After I groomed him, I got out the balance rein and looped it around his neck.  He was fine with that,  we have done that many times before.  I fastened it high on his neck so that about 18″ of strap was hanging down.  Then I started to walk, giving him a little tiny bit of pressure on the line as I stepped off.

To my astonishment, he started walking with me, nice as you please.  This was the day after my cat Musia died, so I was pretty tender.  I felt like crying.  We stopped and walked and stopped and walked and changed directions and wandered all over his six acre field.  No problem.

I realized that all the things I had been doing with him before had led to this.  We were practicing.  But there must have been some subtle piece that was missing – some imperfection in the practice and in my movement that didn’t tell him as clearly as I could have, THIS is what I would like us to do.

That day, I had a really clear picture of what I wanted.  I wish I could say I had no doubt.  That would not be true.   I had no expectation.  And I was OK if it didn’t work.  Practice doesn’t necessarily make perfect.  If you are practicing the wrong thing, or rehearsing the wrong state of mind, or forcing, no amount of practice will make that right.

The perfection that I practice with Nelson is this:  Our agreement is that if it is OK with him, we will go for it.  If it isn’t, we will not.  That doesn’t mean that we don’t try hard, and work through some initial resistance.  It does mean that we both have to feel successful and balanced at the end of our time together.  And yes, we do.

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My friend Michele sent me this picture of the Mustang Nelson lounging in his hay.  Happy horse.

At the end of our time together this week I stood facing him, my hands softly stroking both sides of his shoulders.  Minutes passed, and I could feel his head coming to rest on my shoulder, his breathing relaxation.  Those moments felt holy, like a healing.  I am so blessed.

Most people that I speak to are unaware of the ongoing brutal culling of the fragile herds of wild Mustangs that still run free in Wyoming, Nevada, Colorado and other parts of the West.  The ongoing program of planned extermination of wild horses is well under way in the hands of the Bureau of Land Management in service of the cattle industry.  The helicopter drivers are paid per horse trapped, so there is no particular intelligence guiding the way in which the horses are chosen.  Many of the horses end up being shipped to Mexico for slaughter for the European meat market.  Slaughter is NEVER humane, and horse slaughter in Mexico is an unregulated, unimaginable horror.

As a ten-year old stallion, Nelson would have met that fate were it not for the generosity of Equine Advocates, a sanctuary in upstate New York.

If you have not signed the petition that I have up to the right of this post, please take the time to do so.  The plight of the few remaining wild Mustangs in depends upon our voices.  Not the voices of hysteria, but the steady voice of right action, of compassion and respect for all beings.  As Klaus Hempfing says, the horses are always innocent.  We must speak for them.

I am incredibly blessed to work with Nelson.  He is the anchor for many of my posts and has taught me many lessons about connecting being with horses to the rest of my life.  I do not believe that sanctuary or ownership by a human is a solution for all the wild horses, just as zoos are not solutions for all the endangered elephants.  We need the wild.  We need to feel ourselves in relationship not just to what is tame, but to the wildness within and around us.  The horses do just that.  As poet James Wright says,

Yet the earth contains

The horse as a remembrancer of wild

Arenas we avoid.

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I am not sure if he was meditating, but when I downloaded my pictures, there was this photograph of Nelson with his eye closed.  Over the months that I have known him, Nelson has become a pretty equanimous horse.  He takes things more in stride and I will often see him reading me – reading my movement, parsing what I am asking before responding.

My body has become more readable as well.  I can feel it as I get out of the car and assemble my equipment (gloves, fanny pack with treats, brushes, sometimes a halter).  Settling, breathing, feeling the rhythm and smoothness of my gestures.  I don’t have a particular agenda or plan.  Usually we review the things that we know (grooming, hoof lifting and picking practicing our movement cues.  Then, depending on how he feels to me (steady, nervous, curious, disinterested), we move into something new.

I recently heard about a competition called the Extreme Mustang Makeover.  Contestants have 90 days to gentle and train a wild Mustang.  To me that sounds like a lot of pressure on both horse and human.  It also sounds like doing things in human time, not horse time.

For me, the joy of Nelson is in taking my time and in building trust, friendship and understanding in slow, comprehensible steps.  One of the greatest gifts that horses can teach us is learning to be in horse time, which is not goal oriented or clock and schedule driven.  And, as Klaus Hempfling says, letting the horse come to me, not the other way around.

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Today I visited a farm that has an active, heart-centered rescue program  as well as a training program for area kids. The daughter of the director told me about a competition for training wild Mustangs: 90 days to get the horse from wild to being under saddle.  The young woman is a consummate, compassionate horsewoman.  Nevertheless, that made my stomach lurch.

Here is why.  This month marks a year that I have been working with Nelson.  When I met Nelson, he was pretty wild, but not just-off-the-plains wild.  He had been living at a sanctuary for several years.  He was not able to be handled, but he was not climbing the fences either.  What I am most proud of during this year is not the big strides that Nelson has made in terms of being able to be handled, being calm, being groomed, able to take direction, or any of those training goals that we have accomplished.

I am most proud that at no time  have I done anything that was against the horse.  I never forced him, never frightened him.  And I never gave up.  I never got angry.  It is not that I have never gotten angry at a horse.  I have.  I am not proud of those moments – usually when I am riding.  But with Nelson, I never went there.  I knew that I would lose him, and because I am not holding him with ropes or reins, losing him was always on my mind.  And in not losing him, I also did not lose myself.

As a result, my most joyful time with a horse is not with my own horses but with Nelson.  The difference is that here is more being with Nelson than doing.  I am not readying him for riding, or competition, or any human use.  I am learning his language.  He is learning mine.  My intention is that he feel safe, can be calm with a human, and can have an ongoing, friendly relationship.  Remember that because he is a stallion, Nelson lives alone, apart from other horses, in his big field.

Being able to work this way is a luxury, I understand.  Sometimes, things have to happen faster.  But that is not the way that I want to work with him, or any horse for that matter. Or my children.  Or myself.  More being, less doing across the board.

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My friend Michele sent me this picture of Nelson out in his big field.  This is new:  Nelson relaxing, Nelson settled in the sun.

Today when I went to see him we went into his round pen and he did perfect figure-8 changes of direction in both directions.  Slow, fast, near, far.  Perfect.

Nelson has taught me more about being clear, being calm and showing up than anyone or any other thing in my life.

Thank you Nelson, my beloved teacher.

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A lot of times I will just stand with Nelson and look where he is looking.  I want to know more about his point of view, what is interesting to him, and what he sees.

I never really know.  But that is the point.  We cannot know what another sees or feels unless they tell us directly.  We make assumptions (which are fictions) and then pursue a course of action or inaction based on those assumptions.  More fiction.

When I am with Nelson, I don’t pretend to know what is interesting to him, or how he sees the world.  Sometimes he will be very clear in horse language (movement).  A spook generally means something was scary.  Coming close means that he feels safe or he wants a treat or both.

I like that things with Nelson are very basic.  I spend a great deal of time complicating and elaborating in many other parts of my life.  Being with the horses is a chance to step away from all of that, to get clear, and have a conversation in the language of skin, muscle and bone.  And heart, and heart.

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When I first met Nelson, the almost formerly wild Mustang, he did not want to be touched.  He was nervous, and that made me feel nervous, and we did a strange nervous dance for quite a while.  Both of us prickly and alert, sympathetic nervous systems on orange.

I wish I could say that I found a magic key and that suddenly Nelson was easily touchable, but I did not.  What I did find was horse time.  Horse time is biologic, sometimes even geologic.  It does not have to do with any kind of human time measurement.  It has to do with listening and with waiting.

I got very good at waiting.  One day when I came to work with him, Nelson would not let me anywhere near him.  So I sat leaning against the fence for about 2 hours until he finally came close enough to get a treat.  I had a lot of time that day to think about taking that personally.  A lot of time to feel my impatience and what I assumed was my ineptitude.

The real thing that I have learned from Nelson is that if I listen and wait, he gives me everything.  And the lovely thing is that I have also found that to be true about myself.  If I listen and wait, then what I want unfolds and offers itself to me.  All in good horse time.

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This is a little bit of the morning with Nelson.  He was a little nervous with a camera there.  But mostly he was lovely, as always.

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