Into the Darkness

“This thing of darkness I acknowledge mine.” William Shakespeare

I’ve recently had people interested in working with abused horses come my way. Some want me to work with their horses, some just want me to connect them with folks who have horses in need of help. This has been coincident with me refining my own communication and healing work with horses.

Interesting how we attract what we focus on, where our heart leads us.

As you know, Dorian’s racehorse days have resulted in some trauma. We’ve worked through a lot of that together. As with humans, horses, too, hold tension, stress, and trauma in their bodies. Like us, they have “body-minds.”

And hidden, often, in our body-minds, are tucked away darknesses—an effort to protect ourselves, keep us from harm. But . . . darkness doesn’t go away on its own.

Only light dismisses darkness.

I used to do a lot of deep, probing massage work with Dorian. I really got into those knots and tight spots and worked on them with vigor. That was productive, I admit. But after doing more energy work with him, after getting a Master certification in Reiki and being exposed to cranialsacral work and Masterson massage, my approach in sessions with Dorian dramatically shifted.

These three modalities, though each has a different mental focus, are gentle. They aren’t invasive or harsh, or physically strenuous. They don’t assault the body— they invite, they listen, they’re filled with openness, they’re patient . . . a radically different approach than the one I’d been using.

What would happen if we applied this approach to ourselves?

Case in point with Dorian. As I’ve written about elsewhere, Dorian has a very hard time letting anyone into his mouth—he thrashes his big body around and swings his head wildly . . . There was an entire year when I rode him bitless because no one around, not even the “good ole boy” from across the road at the rescue, could get a bit in his mouth. We worked through that and he’s been fine with a loose snaffle bit since then.

But teeth floating? He’s been called “dangerous,” by an equine dentist. As a racehorse, he’d had a lot of “stuff” go on in that area—twitching (perhaps), chifney bits (which can be very harsh), scoping, and who knows what else . . . .

The only person I’ve found who can work on his teeth has to give him a lot of drugs and I have to hold his head up, literally. And he still thrashes his head around! It takes over 3 hours for him to come out of the tranquilizers (and that’s with me walking him to more rapidly metabolize them).

As I became aware of that more recently, I noticed how frequently I do the same thing. I, too, often refuse to go into those dark places in myself. That’s where I house my trauma, too. During a recent experience, I came to a place in my body that seemed blocked. There I found a deep well of darkness and I didn’t want to go into it. But, I reminded myself, darkness doesn’t go away on its own. Just as I ask Dorian to do, I had to go into that darkness and see what was there. Very scary!

“The shadow is needed now more than ever. We heal the world when we heal ourselves . . .” Sasha Graham

 What I found there was sorrow. A deep, horrifyingly huge well of sorrow. So I stayed there. I sobbed, I shook, and I knew exactly where it came from. But somehow, like Dorian, I’d finally arrived at that place with enough trust to let myself see and feel and know and release. What happened was astonishing! The darkness began, like spiderwebs, to part and recede. As I cried, it left. As I trembled, I experienced what was there all the time, underneath all that darkness—light. And in that light was a vast reservoir of love. I’ve felt that before, but rarely.

It was an incredible lesson for me. Very freeing. We don’t have to turn away from those dark places in ourselves, or the dark experiences we’ve had. If we turn to them instead, maybe even embrace them, maybe even enter them with love, incredible healing takes place.

All it takes is enough courage and trust to do that.

So . . . for the past few months, I’ve been simply putting my palm on Dorian’s muzzle and bringing into awareness all the learning about this he’s led me to. I don’t demand anything of him. I don’t massage or move my hand. I trust him as I gently touch his muzzle, cradle it, and hold a safe space for him. It requires patience. Sometimes he’ll lift his head and toss my hand aside, as in the video. Sometimes I pick up images from him or dark feelings from his track days. I quietly bring my hand back. After a while, he’ll start yawning, sometimes he shakes his head, sometimes he licks and chews—all signs that he’s releasing the stress, tension, and trauma he’d been holding there for years. Just like so many of us.  

I do this fairly frequently with him. Once in a while, he’ll let me in his mouth to simply rest my hand along his upper gum. That results in an even more powerful release for him. I’ll keep doing this and see where it takes us.

There’s a lot of light on the other side of the darkness inside—for all of us. We just need to have courage and not give in to the fear. Only then can we enter, inhabit it, and allow it to disappear. What’s left, what’s always been there, is vast, beneficent, and our birthright . . . freedom.