no one is watching because no one can see

The free range old man horse of the farm came and stood in the wash rack.  Since his companion died he's become one of the barn hands rather than bond with another horse -- he comes and "helps" with chores.  Or maybe he just wants in a stall with a fan for awhile, and some carrots.  One day he stood in the wash rack.

He has some sort of metabolic thing and is on some sort of thyroid supplement but still grows long hair.  He has been clipped but could use another this summer.  I looked at his breathing.  I asked him if he wanted a shower.  He just looked at me with that way he always does.  If you could only imagine what a person he is, and I'm not anthropomorphizing.  I told him (because I do swear he understands English) that I would have time that day to hose him after I finished chores.

And when I hosed him down I told him that I'd be glad to do it anytime that I had time.  If I weren't rushed (and it is rare that I am), all he had to do was stand in the wash rack and I'd hose him off.  So pretty much every afternoon that I've worked since then, that's what he's done.  Then he usually goes to find something that looks dirty (like old shavings) to roll in and then goes somewhere shady and near a field with equines in it and hangs out.

This morning during chores, for the first time ever, he left a stall and went and stood in the wash rack and watched me.  I looked at him and said, "I hear you."  When I was finished with the stalls but hadn't swept the floor yet, I hooked up the hose to the cold water, turned the sprayer to "shower", and hosed him down.  Then I turned the sprayer to "jet" and did it again.  Then I put it on mist and did his face.  Then I scraped him.  And as soon as I was done, he walked out of the wash rack and out of the barn.

But it was while I was hosing him that I had deep thoughts.  Or feelings.  This old man horse, with the sway back and the spinal arthritis, with the propensity to buck if your leg is a bit off, with the eye that tells you that he's on equal terms with you and you'd better know that, I love him.  And not just love him.  Hosing him, I have huge feelings of gratitude that he allows me this service to him. 

It is I believe what they call compassion.  And I have it toward everything, all the time.  Although anyone who knows me would laugh at that because I have huge issues with people.  There is in people, in me too, this illusion of self, this ego.  And it gets in the way of, I swear, everything.  This horse, he is just perfect.  Perfectly himself, perfectly the universe, perfectly the microverse.

And I hose him and feel gratitude.

And my friend hugged me.  She said I encouraged her but really all I said was, "Let's ride."  And I'd like to tell her how precious friendship is to me, how I don't trust it, how I am likely to not be able to live up to it.

And my husband says, "I like you," and I really hope that is true although 24 years would lead one to believe it and not believe it too.

It is all this ego crap.  All this not BEing.  When I feel longing, it is longing to be past that ego crap.  When I feel full and whole and at peace, it is what is beyond ego crap.  When I am afraid, which is a lot, I am afraid for my ego, no doubt.  When I am mad, likely I'm mad at your ego.

Then I go back to that hosing that horse's ribs.  I go back to the blade of grass, the aqua sky backdrop to clouds.  I go back to the person before spikes, under armored plates.  And the heart there is open.  It doesn't open -- there is no act or process of opening.  Where there is no ego, it is open.  It is closed where there is ego.

There is no process, there is no path.  There might be practice.  There is certainly habit.  And resistance.  It is like surrendering when giving birth -- there is no way to DO it except to let it happen.  And deal with what comes up in the mean time.  There are choices to make that increase it or decrease it.  And yet still, no process.

You choose the method, you choose the results.