#14 - My Forever Soul-Horse - Boston
Upon our return to Montana, I was reunited with Mesa and met Boston, a yearling, for the first time. I knew it would be thrilling to have horses again, but what I didn’t expect was the treasure I received in Boston. Looking back, I know without a doubt that Boston found me. That wise filly taught me more about the horse-human relationship in the short time we were together than I had learned in years.
Boston was a fancy grullo paint filly who was extremely sensitive to energy. I believe that this was a huge asset, as she was super light. But it had the potential of creating problems, as well. For example, if I approached her with too much energy, she would move her head up and away. When I was calm and intentional with my energy, she would lower her head and oftentimes even “snuggle” into my chest.
She could be sassy and talked a lot with her ears. Even though she pinned her ears more than I liked, she never hurt me, not even stepping on or bumping into me. I think she just had a lot to say, so she appeared to have an attitude. This behavior scared my husband and some other people who had come over. She was rarely around anyone but me, and the farrier had no problem whatsoever with her. In fact, he was one of her favorite people.
Boston was highly motivated by treats, yet she was incredibly respectful around food. For instance, I gave her a bit of grain each day. She waited at the opening to the stall until I invited her in to eat. Also, she stood back from her pony mate and let her eat her grain while she waited for her own. I found that she would do so much more for a treat, a scratch, and a “good girl” than she would when too much pressure was applied.
I really felt like this was the horse who, when she knew she was in a trusting relationship, would take care of me. The relationship would not happen overnight, but with time, would be an incredible bond. She was very willing, did not like being in trouble, and would get jealous if I was spending too much time with another horse. She had the potential to be very loyal. Over the two years that Boston lived with me, we developed that relationship.
An interesting side note is the legend of Pharaoh's Thumbprint. Boston has a small dent on her neck. There is a legend that a pharaoh was taking his band of horses across the desert. When they came upon an oasis, he sent his mares to get a drink. At the last moment, he changed his mind and called them back. A few of the mares returned, so the pharaoh marked each mare with his thumbprint. If you have a horse with this mark, she will be a loyal horse. If your thumb fits into the mark, your horse is your soul-horse. And wouldn’t you know it, my thumb fit perfectly into Boston’s mark.
I had done some liberty training with horses in the past, and was taught that if the horse didn’t stay connected, she must be chased around the pen until she returned to you. I hadn’t yet attempted any liberty with Boston when one day we were out in the pasture together. She was feeling frisky, so I began to run around with her. After a few minutes, I felt a strong connection with her as she circled around me. I was able to change her direction and speed and draw her toward me. I had never felt this powerful connection in any other liberty work I had done before. It was Boston’s choice to connect and when she chose to disconnect, I allowed it.
We continued with tons of groundwork, including liberty, on line, and ground driving. Her favorite activity was going for a walk around the neighborhood and down the country roads. I spent a lot of time just being with her also. I would visit with her, offer scratches and grooming, and meditate. I have always kissed my horses’ muzzles and whispered at their noses and this naturally became a part of our time together. I have heard that this exchange of breath is a horse’s way of sharing her spirit with you.
When she was three, I gently started riding her. She was much less wobbly than other horses I had started. She was balanced, confident, and calm. I only rode her in the arena at a walk to ensure that she had a very positive experience with her first few rides.
I promised Boston that she would be my forever soul-horse. But I broke that promise when I made the agonizing decision to sell her. We were moving to town and I couldn’t find a suitable place for Boston to live. Deep down, I think I was afraid of continuing Boston’s training on my own and after the disastrous experiences Mesa had with trainers, I knew I couldn’t go down that path again. It is scary riding a green horse and doing all of the first experiences with them. I was frightened that I would hurt my neck again and didn’t feel like I was the confident rider who Boston deserved. It made my decision easier that I couldn’t find a place to keep her.
The saddest day of my life was the day I said goodbye to Boston. The lovely woman I sold her to came to take her home after she had delivered some bulls in our area. When it came time to load Boston, she was very apprehensive about walking into a trailer that smelled very different from hers, but she trusted me and stepped on. I stood with her for a few minutes to settle her, but when I left her alone, I could see the fear in her eyes. She stared right at me, clearly pleading with me to get her out of there. The feeling was so intense, it was all I could do not to collapse before they pulled out of the driveway. I sent Boston the message that she was a brave, smart girl and that I would always love her.
Knowing that I had betrayed my forever soul-horse was a worse feeling than losing my parents and my beloved old dogs. While the deaths were most definitely sad, I was at peace knowing that my loved ones’ lives were long and full and that they were ultimately in a better place. But selling Boston, after promising to be her forever home, really unraveled me to my core. The only comfort I had and the only way I have made peace with my powerless decision is knowing that she has a very loving, wonderful home. I also know what a smart and adaptable horse she is and that I had given her the kind of foundation that would compel her new owner to fall in love with her, which she has.
Losing Boston sent me into a downward spiral of guilt, shame, embarrassment, and overwhelming sadness. This left me with no choice but to embrace my own journey of personal growth, leading me to some deep realizations over the coming months. I sobbed every single day for an entire month. I sought healing support for the first time in my life. My therapist helped me to let go of the unrelenting grief and the feeling that I had let Boston down. She encouraged me to send my dreams of a new horse and an indoor arena out into the Universe. I did, sort of, without really believing I was deserving. After three solid months of grieving, I finally asked God why He had placed horses at the heart of my soul. Why had horses even been a part of my life, when time and time again I had to say goodbye?
I had a sudden shift in consciousness. All at once, I had an awareness that I had been learning so many lessons from horses. Among them, horses were there to teach me: 1) to love myself, 2) to be comfortable with what is, 3) to stop wishing I was somewhere else, 4) to surrender and allow, and 5) to let go of my attachment to people, things, horses, and places. These realizations were the beginning of me regaining my power and cracking open a space for one more horse partner.
Looking back on my experience with Boston, here are the lessons that I learned:
Horses know when you’re being inauthentic. There had been a period of time when Boston pinned her ears at me more often than not. It got so bad that I finally started remote sessions with Karen Partisch, an energy worker, to see if I could find a way to help her. I discovered that Boston felt that we had a close relationship and that she had some sinus congestion. I was also amazed at the deep relaxation Karen was able to bring about in her. During one of our sessions, Karen was sensing a clenched jaw, but it wasn’t Boston and it wasn’t the pony who lived with her. After our session, I shrugged it off until later that evening when a terrible pain consumed my head. I finally slowed down and took note of my body and was shocked to realize that my jaw was clenched. I had been very angry about something for quite some time, but hadn’t acknowledged my feelings. I kept stuffing that anger down, while appearing to be just fine on the surface. Boston must have picked up on this incongruence and her ear-pinning was letting me know that she didn’t appreciate it. I slowly began to let myself feel some of my feelings, but it wasn’t until Boston was gone that I truly allowed all of my feelings to be felt, and understood what she had been trying to tell me.
There is power in positive reinforcement. I had always given my horses a treat at the end of our ride, but I had never been one to use positive reinforcement in training. When Boston said no, she left me with no other choice. I pulled out all of my “tricks” from my horse show days and when none of them worked and no longer resonated with me, I had to find a new approach. Fortunately, I came across Karen Rohlf’s virtual arena for guidance in re-learning basically everything I had ever known about horsemanship.
Horses are willing to connect with you when they are given choices and their answers are honored. Boston showed me this in our liberty work. I gave her the choice to connect or not, and as hard as it was, when she chose not to, I let her be. As a result, she chose more often than not to connect.
Non-demanding time is a game-changer. I spent a lot of time just hanging out with Boston and not asking anything of her. It was challenging not to have an agenda at first. However, I am so grateful for that time because we developed a trusting bond unlike any I had experienced with my previous horses.
When you love yourself first, you can make decisions based on love instead of fear. When I had Boston, my son had asked me, “What would happen if you loved yourself as much as you love Boston?” I didn’t realize what he was talking about at the time, but after I let her go I began to understand it. If I had considered his question earlier, I may have loved myself through the fear that had been clenching me and found a way to keep her.
