Wicked Wasp Stings at Gut Level
Wow, a whole week fully engulfed in managing my reality, living my life, empowering others to become their best through their choices to improve their connection with their horses. Has truly found me following, observing, and understanding the messages I have found encoded in my day to day experiences. The likes of which I was truly astounded by the final conclusion from an amazing, unlikely and truly thought provoking incident on Wednesday afternoon, having found myself with a close encounter of the most unexpected breach of my privacy.
I had finished a nap after a truly easy morning of handling, riding, and increasing both the minds and agilities of the two young mares that now grace my pens. One with a finely chiseled, aristocratic Spanish-Barb head, who has taken a liking to stretching, nosing, and finagling her way to extend her limbs to find relief from a sticking point in her shoulders from her previous places of ownership. Having to be asked with slow, well defined definitions of what I am expecting, or else she pushes way to hard to do it all. Much like someone who is a people pleaser at all cost. Hurry, hurry, hurry, be the fasted to get it done right and be rewarded… instead of completion and the comparison to others who are faster, more eloquent, articulate or prettier. Much about her personality shows the change of hands in lieu of dollars for her not quite fitting the niche described as perfection at the ranch of her origin.
She tends to worry, fret, try too hard, in an effort to stay, fit in, and be okay. Originally prone to standing and weaving, staring longingly across the pasture so unsure of this latest change. Though in the month of her presence here with her new owner, as both are flourishing, expanding and learning about each other, the fretting lessens with the two constantly meeting on this common ground of true, easy companionship. To be adjusted still further next week when the chiropractor comes to realign the cause of her stiffness, which I allow her to find the easiest ways to understand and achieve the movements that are slowly reshaping her body, mind and spirit in the way that only true caring can change.
Mare number two is a “big” baby, who has been taking full advantage of the owner who rescued her with feed, caring, and overly concern of doing the right thing. The first two sessions were more of a dodge, parry, feign, send and explanation of “who” is to be the leader. As she constantly tried to put me in my place, and I allowed her to find the folly of pushing me around as I easily out maneuvered and redirected her feet, shoulders, mouth and head until I found the ears questioning me as to “exactly what was it I asked?” Then a softness in the eyes, a deep breath, followed by a yawn of “okay” leadership really is way too much work. To find by day seven, I am mounted, walking, turning, and backing this so much more willing “brat”… who is so loved, just now with borders and instructions, both owner and horse discovering a different world of communication and understanding.
Having rode and handled eight head, cooled off, napped, and had a bite to eat. I stopped to relieve myself, sitting there just kind of lost in thought, when the buzzing of rough wings much like a beetle, caused me to startle and I thought brush off the bug that I heard zoom up close to me. I stood up, checked around for the critter, adjusting my shirt and then my britches to step out of the bathroom and find myself suddenly being attacked right below my belly button. As I quickly stripped my shirt and pants to find this large red wasp stinging me in protest of being caught down there in my clothing. I flung it off, grabbed a clog and thought I had ended its spree of violence, only to have my son have to come in after several unaffective hits to crush it with his boot.
Grabbed an alcohol wipe and a magnet to quickly apply to my tender flesh, trying to figure out what I have been doing to attract such an angry response to my body’s core. The combination of quick thinking easily subdued the biggest pain, leaving me to ponder what was up, knowing I would figure this out or be guided toward the answers I finally put together this morning after dealing with my one male client and youngest son. Both caught me fully unaware of how close I had come to almost falling for their lines of helplessness and hopelessness in their responsibilities for their problems. After being brought to full awareness from the tenderness of my exposed underbelly, where I caught sight of myself bending over backwards to make things all better as I awoke from under this life long spell of “what if they don’t like me!”
I discovered I don’t care, I do my part, I do things better than most because I try, I experiment, I attempt, I put my whole self into creating solutions and how dare I rob them of the ability to be all they can be. Mad as a hornet, I pulled up short, told them both to ship up or pay the consequences; there is no more sneaking over my shoulder and using my answers… Grow up, get over it, go elsewhere or do without.
I heard sputtering, whining (without cheese) begging, pleading, cajoling, all kinds of excuses. Holding my stance like a Marine, fully encompassed in my ability to say “No”, take names, dole out punishment, and carefully document achievements. Then walk away… wait, and see, really observe to completion their owning up to what I had allowed them to almost get away with. Damn, I’m Good! Stings, bruises, naps, and all.