Sunday, July 24, 2005

Communication Under the Skin


A reality I know from horses, that we as humans don't want to talk about -- boundaries are permeable. Emotions leak, they are transmitted from one being to another. The person who names an emotion, experiences consciously, may not be the person who really has it.

Carrying the emotions of others has been my job, which may be why riding a horse seems so backwards. On a horse, I'm the emotional leader. I need to know when to be calm, when to bring up the energy, when to be aggressive or firm.

To get a horse to move away on the ground, I may need to hit it on the rump, but it's not necessarily the hit that makes it move away. Sometiems the horse moves the instant before, in the very moment that the intention forms completely in my mind and body.

In either case, I'm the one asking the horse to go out of its way for me, to serve me, so I'm the one who has to choose the emotion and eddy it outwards. Classic, but conscious, projection.

In human relationships, I tend to absorb emotions unconsciously, conforming to others like a chameleon. I resonate to another's needs. This was especially true in my last two complex and disastrous romances. Each man took the fear they carried and turned it out on me -- and I accepted it. I was the "depressed" one, the "wounded" one, the lonely one. When I was around them, I felt their emotions: humiliation, fear, emptiness -- and never knew it wasn't me. Like the Fear Thing, the emotions descended on me, amorphous and undefined, and I was left struggling to make sense of it. I was, and still am, open to alien feelings, to energy spilling out on me, to other people leaning on me with their dark feelings.

Shadows. I'm aware of and carry a lot of shadows.

Horses are simple by comparison. If you are fearful, they become aggressive or fearful, but it's open. They put back their ears and bite. They jerk their hooves away when you try to clean their feet. They panic on the trail at the spot where the other horse you ride panicked last week. It's visible -- and that means I can experiment and see what works. I can practice and become attuned to the signs and responses.

The very fact that with horses I am learning a different language, the language of horse body and need, makes the assusmptions visible and puts them within reach.

With people, it's far murkier. It gets even murkier when you realize peple need to hide a lot from themselves. If you could ask a horse, "Are you angry?" it might say, "I don't know but I really want to swish my tail and bite you." Anger is an action, not a concept. If you ask a person, "Are you angry," you are likely to get the half-smothered clipped volcanic version: "I'm! Not! Angry!" Or the sweet and gentle, "Oh, no, I'm not angry, but I see you are. You poor thing."

There are days when it seems it would be easier if we could just lay back our ears and bite.


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