One year into this pandemic, I have settled into a "new normal" that consists of isolation, disinfection routines, and takeout. As the third wave begins to rear it's ugly head, as it often does, life decided to throw yet another curve ball my way. Earlier this week I received upsetting news about a loved one that destroyed all illusions of happiness and peace. My heart heavy and my tears run dry, I yet again have to ask myself "okay, now what". Whenever I feel directionless with nowhere to turn, I always go back to nature. Nature teaches you how to live in the now, appreciate the fleeting beauty before you, and learn to let it go.
The once winter wonderland farm-scape that I have called home for the last few weeks is now a muddy swampland of groggy trees and thawing weeds. The mud slurps around my boots as I meander aimlessly across the rain soaked ground. Like people, animals too find healing in nature. The ducks that live here suffered from PTSD after being attacked by a predator. For months they were afraid to go beyond the confines of their shelter. Yet by spending time outdoors and using the confident chickens as role models, they have gradually ventured further and further outside their comfort zone, and have finally made their way to the nearby stream. The once threatening beyond is now their tiny oasis where they can be seen happily swimming and riding the currents like river rafts at a theme park.
As I squelch onwards, the horses approach me with curiosity and fascination - well a little less fascination once it became evident that I didn't come bearing any food. Instead of normally going back to eating their hay, the larger of the two horses approached me - one ear cocked back as though to say "What's up human, you look glum?" Like the imaginative woman that I am (combined with my inner childhood desire to be able to talk to animals like Eliza in the wild Thornberry's), I believed in that in this moment this animal wanted to be there for me. So I began unloading all of my feelings about everything over the last year on this animal, and in some strange way he listened. This horse remained inches from my face for over half an hour just listening to me talk. I thought at one point he had lost interest since he stepped away, however after using the bathroom corner he had designated in his space, he came back to keep listening. His ears learned forward and slightly outward, his head lowered to be at eye level with mine, his eyes half open but fixated on me, and his body posture relaxed. No judgment, no boredom, just pure presence. It wasn't until I smiled and thanked him (after he allowed to remove some straw that had been caught in his eye brows) that he walked away. It was almost as if to say "This human is okay now, my job is done."
Oddly, it was one of the most therapeutic interactions I've had all week. To just deeply connect with another animal and to have each other's presence somehow meant everything. Presence and connection are everything. So as this pandemic continues to rage on and life continues to be hard, trust in nature that it will be there for you whenever you need it. It will be there to show you beauty and help you practice letting it go. Whether it be letting go of dreams, a life you once knew, or fear of the unknown, there will always be beauty and happiness ahead. I promise, just be patient.
