Breathe, Just Breathe
Missouri, passes through the swing gate for the first time. His step is slow, guarded to a certain degree. He steps and with his head higher than normal he surveys the landscape before him. His stride carries him forward three more steps and again he stops and slowly swings his head to the right. Nothing is to his right that might threaten his existence, but as I discovered while keeping him in the round pen, he is blind in his right eye. (That’s a story for another day.) Confident it is safe to proceed deeper into the pasture, Missouri walks on, turning his head ever so slightly to the right.
Before Missouri is able to reach an opening, some fifty yards from the gate, an opening that grants access to a couple acres of lush green grass, the two horses currently “owning” that space pick up Missouri’s scent and the vibration of his hooves on the ground. With a whiny from Nevada, a four year gelding, and a lifting of the neck and head from Lady that would result in whiplash for any person, the pair storm off towards Missouri. The sheer athleticism of Nevada, to say nothing of youth versus elderly status, Lady being twenty-three years old, places Nevada before their intruder well ahead of Lady. The two geldings begin the process of sizing each other up, which consists of looking for any threatening cues that the other might attack. Pinning of the ears, wildly swinging the head, pounding at the ground, sorting, etc…
As Lady arrives she coughs to clear her lungs of the dust she inhaled from following her partner. She moves close to Nevada’s shoulder, but doesn’t permit her shoulder to move past his. He is in charge of this situation.
Without moving forward, Nevada, a proven risk-taker, closes the two plus foot space between himself and Missouri by extending his neck. He, literally, brought his nose to within inches of Missouri’s nose and just as he is about to touch Missouri, Nevada breathes outward. He expelled a puff of air that originated from deep within. Missouri, in response, elevates his head slightly and inhales pulling into his body the breath, the spirit of Nevada. For several seconds the three horses resemble marble cast figurines as there was no visible movement. And then, slowly, Missouri’s head drops and he in return delivers his breath, his spirit. At that point, Lady, whose own breathing pattern has been shallow, inhales deeply, holds it for a second and then pushes the air from her body causing her lips to vibrate and offers up the first sound. She proceeds to licks her lips twice, turns and walks back into the pasture followed first by Nevada and then Missouri. It’s the beginning of a new herd and it started with the act of breathing.
One of the greatest gifts horses have shared with me is the power of breathing. It may sound silly to think that horses taught me how to breathe since I took my first breath, outside my mother’s body, without a horse anywhere near. To say nothing of the fact that on average we take 20,000 breaths everyday and do so without thinking. But, that’s the point. We don’t think about the act of breathing, nor do we listen to how another is breathing. But horses do!
Horses listen to the breathing pattern of other horses and other animals because their survival is dependent upon it. I listen to the breathing pattern of every horse I work with, every horse I ride, every horse we use in therapy because it informs me where the horse is at mentally, emotionally, and physically. What is so amazing about horses is that they use the act of breathing to transition from a state of fear or anxiety to a state of being calm and at peace. They also use their breath to warn another that they are uncomfortable. Or, to focus themselves. A massive snort, a flood of air is pushed from their body as a means to cleanse themselves in order to focus on what might cause them harm.
It may sound silly, but what if we stopped and focused on our own breathing pattern? What if we stopped and listened to the breathing pattern of another? What might we discover about ourselves? What might we learn about another? Is it possible that we could share our spirit with another? (Clearly, COVID 19 has and will continue to influence our thoughts about breathing – yet, I would suggest, for this reason, it is all the more important for us to listen to our breathing pattern and that of another.)
So, what’s the connection to education? How does this enhance education? How does this enhance the learner? Before moving forward, I should clarify what I mean by education. Education is not limited to school. Part of the problem with public education in the US is that we only value the learning that occurs within a building, inside a classroom, under the tutelage of a teacher. The only learning that is valued is that which can be controlled and therefore tested. The truth is, education for life begins the moment we take that first breath and it continues until we take our last. So, how does this enhance education? Let me ask a few questions.
Have you ever stopped to listen to your own breathing as you work with a learner? (A learner as someone, of any age, exploring the unknown, unfamiliar, or challenging and questioning the known and familiar.) Have you ever stopped to listen to the breathing of a learner? A toddler attempting to follow their first step with a second? A teenager putting the car in drive for the first time? An individual trying to complete a mindless homework assignment? A person laboring to solve a problem without the necessary equipment? Grandma, turning on a computer for the first time? On and on.
What can you discover by listening to your breathing pattern and their’s? Are you/they comfortable or overwhelmed? Are you/they feeling threatened or successful? Are you/they angry or happy? Scared or excited? Do they need you to breathe with them or for them? And here is the greatest gifted received, sometimes I need another to breathe for me and sometimes I am called upon to breathe for another. Let me close with the story of my opportunity to share the gift of breathing.
It was early on Palm Sunday. As I arrived at the fence to the first pasture I was greeted by four horses anxiously awaiting their hay. A fifth horse that completes this herd was not visible. I didn’t give it a second thought as she occasionally was the last horse to leave the three-sided walk-in shelter. I busied myself with distributing the hay along the fenceline and then moved on to the second of three pastures. With each pasture given their allotment of hay I return to the first pasture with buckets of grain. A quick glance and count of butts, all heads were low, busy consuming the hay, revealed five bodies. The mare had arrived to join her friends.
I entered the pasture in search of their feed buckets and to survey each animal to ensure everyone was healthy. With the buckets spread out in a line I poured grain that was consumed with(or without) haste, until small kernels struck the fifth bucket. There was no horse present burying its nose in the bucket to inhale the grain. The reason became clear the moment Sonny, an Appaloosa mare, attempted to turn away from the fence and towards her bucket. There on the right half of her chest was a gaping wound. Her hide literally had been ripped at a 90 degree angle. The top and side of the wound measure 8 inches across and 8 inches down. I immediately took a deep breath, pushed the bucket next to her, and gave thanks that the hide which was torn back was still attached at the opposite side. This was important because whatever caused the damage also punctured a hole into her chest cavity. The wound would need to be covered.
After making numerous calls to area Veterinarians, one was willing and able to come but it would be close to an hour before he could arrive. Fortunately, an associate was closer and arrived and started the necessary prep work. Syringes were filled, pails of water were filled with antibacterial solutions, gloves were laid out, tools for cleaning, cutting, and sewing lined up. By the time the second Vet arrived the prep work was complete and I had Sonny out of the pasture and calmly waiting to become the next patient.
The second Vet, who would do all the stitching, like the first, greeted Sonny with a light touch to her neck before even inspecting the wound. He may not have been listening to her breathing, but he knew the importance of greeting an animal.
As the process began and the medication to make Sonny groggy took effect, I placed my right hip against her left shoulder and started to breathe in a loud manner. By the third breath pushed from my body, Sonny’s body leaned against me and she slowly melted into me. The doctor scrabbed the wound, trimmed muscle that was torn, and finally poked the nettle through the hide. As he labored to pull the torn piece of hide back and stitch it into place, the two Vets discussed how best to proceed. Sonny continued to lean into me and her twelve hundred pound body mass started to overwhelm me. It was at that moment that I noticed Sonny’s breathing mirrored mine. I stopped breathing loudly and immediately Sonny’s head jerked upward and she pulled back from the Vet. I lifted my head as well and breathed directly into her ear and her head dropped and she once again melted into me. For the next hour I continued to breathe and Sonny stood still even though the medication began to release its grip on her.
As the Vets drove away and I slowly led Sonny to her new corral I realized that it was my turn to share the gift once given to me.Now, it is your turn, Breathe, Just Breathe. It is a gift given and a gift to be shared.