Truth Seeker
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Dear soul,
What is it to be a truth-seeker? Perhaps it's better to start with what it isn't. I cast my mind back to my highly competitive dressage days, a time that seems both distant and intimately close. I recall sitting in the grandstand for the Grand Prix Special, a glass of champagne in hand beside a friend who wasn't into horses.
The horses were moving through their tests with precision. I was telling my friend what the movements were. Telling her how long it takes to train a horse to this level if they even make it. I was telling her about the blood, sweat, tears and dedication that go into getting to this leve. She was quiet. After a while, my friend turned to me, her voice hesitant but sincere, "Can I tell you what I'm feeling? I'm worried. I think these horses are really unhappy."
I remember turning to her, defensively. "You just don't know what you're looking at. You’re not educated." I’m sure I said much more than that, but those words—they etched in the stone wall of denial I had built around myself. That moment was an example of not seeking truth, of shutting it out because it was inconvenient and uncomfortable.
Fast forward 25+ years, and I realise she was right. Those horses were not happy, they still aren’t. Imagine if I had listened to her back then, truly listened. What if I had said, "Share with me more. What are you feeling? What is it you are seeing?" What if I had embarked on that conversation with genuine curiosity and a desire to appreciate and respect what she was feeling, instead of diminishing, disrespecting her instinctual reaction? She was right. And it pains me to think how long it took me to move past my ego, my self-serving desires, my defensive posture of always knowing better, always being right.
Today, I see a lot of this egoic self-serving energy around. People fiercely defend their perspectives, insisting, "My horse loves to be ridden. They run to me in the paddock when they see me." But this isn't truth-seeking. It's defending a position. And when you feel the need to defend your position so adamantly, almost always—almost without fail—it signifies a deep-rooted awareness that what you're doing may not be right.
Animals, especially horses, speak a language of their own, a silent yet profoundly expressive dialogue through their eyes, body language, and spirit. Foxy Lady, my dear horse, taught me that the more defensive one becomes, the more likely they're grappling with a disquieting truth they've yet to accept. What if our horses are not happy being ridden. What if they are not running to us out of joy for what we have in store for them.
Learning to become a seeker of truth is the greatest transformation, the most essential skill we must develop. Stop and open your heart when you find yourself reacting, when defensiveness bubbles to the surface. You’re not in the realm of truth-seeking then; you're ensnared in your ego, your self-righteous desires. Only by breaking free of these chains can we truly, deeply connect with our horses in a way that honors their spirit and respects their truth.
With hope,
Paulette