It was one of those beautiful late spring days; the sun was shining hot on my head, the grass was green and lush, the horses grazed under a perfect blue sky with just a few fluffy clouds drifting slowly in a breeze that barely moved my hair. I stood outside the pasture fence looking in at the horses and Linda stood there with me, very patiently.
She had asked me what I wanted to do; did I want to go in the pasture with the horses or perhaps grab a halter and work with Cody? I simply stood there. I was enjoying the sight of the horses, the spring smells, the sounds of the birds, the beautiful weather.
“I don’t want to bother them”, I said. They were happy and content and I didn’t want to disturb that. I was happy standing on the outside, looking in.
That’s when I looked at Linda, an aha moment dawning on my face. “This is what I do with people too, don’t I? I don’t want to go into the pasture and bother the horses, and risk being rejected. Just like my life, I am afraid to risk being rejected.”
Linda said, “Maybe they wouldn’t feel like you were bothering them, maybe they would welcome you. And what if they did walk away? What would that mean to you?”
The little girl in me got tears in her eyes, feeling once again that feeling of not ‘belonging’ when what I desperately wanted to do, was ‘belong.’ I took a deep breath, and Linda and I went out into the pasture with our chairs to sit among the horses and talk. She is so patient, waiting for me to gather my thoughts, never pushing or criticizing. She asked me to close my eyes, and picture that little girl in my mind.
“What do you want to tell that little girl, who wears her heart on her sleeve? She has served a purpose for you all these years. Do you think you could reassure her that it will be ok, that she is loved, but that you would like for her to rest now, that you can do this?”
All these years, I had never tried to visualize my feelings like that. Man, that hurt my heart. My throat was constricted tight, trying not to cry, but the tears fell anyway.
Linda’s patient questions, observations and gentle understanding brought so many feelings to the surface for me. I had a long conversation with the little girl inside of me that day, with the sound of the horses’ tails swishing, the birds singing, the sun warm on our heads. I felt safe, nurtured, and after the tears, a feeling a peace and awareness.
Awareness of that little girl who I can talk to and reassure that she is not alone, and that she is indeed enough.