26 November 2004
The author has his world rocked by listenging to the whispers of his instructors equine friends.
Forget Dr. Doolittle.
Cancel the rental of the Robert Redford movie.
These guys don’t come close to spending a day with a 5’ 3” spark-plug in Southern Wales who spends her days teaching us how to listen to the language of our own soul by helping us to listen to and learn from her four horses.
Meet Helen Alysia Wingstedt, founder of Wholly Horses and her merry band of co-conspirator trainers: Q, a retired thoroughbred gelding who does not suffer fools lightly; the undisputed leader of the pack Holly (an Alpha-male despite the dubious name); Jack a lovely, quiet paint with lots to teach and Petal, the gentle, timid mare the other three protect and defend. Together, they will take any confirmed city boy (or girl) on the ride of your life without ever saddling up.
I work with a mind-body-spirit organization so the first thing Helen had to do was break me of all those wonderful concepts I was carrying about with me as well as everything I thought I was about to experience on this blustery and beautiful day spent over 100 lush acres of Welsh countryside. My day with Helen and the team was a birthday gift from my wife and co-workers who thought, rather than let me waste a day relaxing at a spa or traipsing the manicured links of a golf resort, gave the gift that keeps on giving and brings my emotional ‘stuff’ up into my face. An entire day, 1-on-1 with Helen and her equine team where we would learn to communicate on a level I never contemplated possible. The term used by many is ‘horse whispering’ and it seems a misnomer, because words were neither needed nor spoken.
At 10 am sharp we pulled up as instructed in front of barn number 5 and since this city boy could not decide what shoes would work best as the brochure instructs one to bring wet weather gear as it can get a bit muddy (said in the same way a dentist says, “you may feel some discomfort,” or the airline pilot says, “we may experience some light turbulence...”). Well it was all Wellies, all day long as mud and water at times covered my feet well up to the ankle, but I’m ahead of myself.
Helen and I began with a harmless little chat over coffee and tea. She asked questions while circling the table and tuning in somewhere for answers that made my internal alarm bells klaxon a full warp factor 5 emergency as I sat blithely wondering how she was so simply pulling information out from so deep within me. In about 10-minutes time she had me completely sussed and hung out to dry. As in the movie Jerry Maguire when Dorothy says to Jerry, “you had me at hello”?, she knew everything about that quickly. There was no hope of escape. After 45-minutes every one of my issues with women was exposed naked (a purposeful Freudian slip). I was grateful when she suggested lunch thinking, aah, at last the teaching’s over for a few minutes, (ha-ha you silly little man).
There is a deep and profound simplicity without new-age jargon to Helen and even while sitting and munching on sandwiches, I was wide openly confused and thus declared ready to meet my trainers for the day. We began a 20-minute trek down a narrow lane, over mud flows, through several gates and into a huge open 100-acre series of meadows. At the top of the hill stood the imposing Holly staring at me and thinking, “OK gang, listen up, we got ourselves a genuine city boy here who thinks he knows what’s about to happen (my, been there, done that skepticism was clearly tattooed over my entire being), so shall we let the lessons begin?”
They gathered near the fence like American football players in a huddle discussing the next play and enlisted the 6 horses from the neighboring meadow and farm as co-conspirators. Helen then explained how the water represented my emotions and when one horse started slapping the surface with his hoof to rhythmically “stir up the emotions” she encouraged me to climb up the little hill to get a better look.
I gave Helen a look that communicated “well, yes and he could just be playing with the water now, couldn’t he” and noticed the horses had silently moved into position behind me leaving completely cut-off from Helen and then began nudging me (now 600 lbs. of horses “nudging,” you remember). Their message was very movie Godfather-like, “listen up real good, cuz we’re only gonna say dis once, pay attention to da nice lady.” It worked and stopped any further sarcastic thoughts or responses bubbling up to anything the rest of this day.
“Horses,” said Helen, “are so telepathic and empathetic you need never actually say a word. They hear what you are going to say as you think it and react to it before you actually say it.” She (and they) now had my full attention. The rest of the day it became clear they were indeed hearing what I was thinking and it made me very careful of every thought. They also could sense when my defenses came up and even in a later exercise where Helen asked me to summon Holly and have him come to me, I had to lower my guard and really invite him before he would come to where I was standing. After two tries he came willingly and when all defenses were lowered, we stood there and I saw what a big tender baby he really is as I cupped his head gently in my hands and we stood like a pair of ballet dancers embraced in a silent pas de deux. It brought up bucket loads of emotion to see how badly I had misjudged this gentle giant (and through him so many others throughout my life).
It was a brilliant end to an amazing day. I left with an open heart and a spring to my step. The horses quietly munched on the fresh grass, as no sentimentality was asked for or needed. They were done, lesson learned, it’s time to eat. And as I watched them standing there while darkness crept over the meadow, I knew they were simply waiting for the next day’s person to learn their lesson.
You too will be assimilated, if you dare.
Forget Dr. Doolittle.
Cancel the rental of the Robert Redford movie.
These guys don’t come close to spending a day with a 5’ 3” spark-plug in Southern Wales who spends her days teaching us how to listen to the language of our own soul by helping us to listen to and learn from her four horses.
Meet Helen Alysia Wingstedt, founder of Wholly Horses and her merry band of co-conspirator trainers: Q, a retired thoroughbred gelding who does not suffer fools lightly; the undisputed leader of the pack Holly (an Alpha-male despite the dubious name); Jack a lovely, quiet paint with lots to teach and Petal, the gentle, timid mare the other three protect and defend. Together, they will take any confirmed city boy (or girl) on the ride of your life without ever saddling up.
I work with a mind-body-spirit organization so the first thing Helen had to do was break me of all those wonderful concepts I was carrying about with me as well as everything I thought I was about to experience on this blustery and beautiful day spent over 100 lush acres of Welsh countryside. My day with Helen and the team was a birthday gift from my wife and co-workers who thought, rather than let me waste a day relaxing at a spa or traipsing the manicured links of a golf resort, gave the gift that keeps on giving and brings my emotional ‘stuff’ up into my face. An entire day, 1-on-1 with Helen and her equine team where we would learn to communicate on a level I never contemplated possible. The term used by many is ‘horse whispering’ and it seems a misnomer, because words were neither needed nor spoken.
At 10 am sharp we pulled up as instructed in front of barn number 5 and since this city boy could not decide what shoes would work best as the brochure instructs one to bring wet weather gear as it can get a bit muddy (said in the same way a dentist says, “you may feel some discomfort,” or the airline pilot says, “we may experience some light turbulence...”). Well it was all Wellies, all day long as mud and water at times covered my feet well up to the ankle, but I’m ahead of myself.
Helen and I began with a harmless little chat over coffee and tea. She asked questions while circling the table and tuning in somewhere for answers that made my internal alarm bells klaxon a full warp factor 5 emergency as I sat blithely wondering how she was so simply pulling information out from so deep within me. In about 10-minutes time she had me completely sussed and hung out to dry. As in the movie Jerry Maguire when Dorothy says to Jerry, “you had me at hello”?, she knew everything about that quickly. There was no hope of escape. After 45-minutes every one of my issues with women was exposed naked (a purposeful Freudian slip). I was grateful when she suggested lunch thinking, aah, at last the teaching’s over for a few minutes, (ha-ha you silly little man).
There is a deep and profound simplicity without new-age jargon to Helen and even while sitting and munching on sandwiches, I was wide openly confused and thus declared ready to meet my trainers for the day. We began a 20-minute trek down a narrow lane, over mud flows, through several gates and into a huge open 100-acre series of meadows. At the top of the hill stood the imposing Holly staring at me and thinking, “OK gang, listen up, we got ourselves a genuine city boy here who thinks he knows what’s about to happen (my, been there, done that skepticism was clearly tattooed over my entire being), so shall we let the lessons begin?”
They gathered near the fence like American football players in a huddle discussing the next play and enlisted the 6 horses from the neighboring meadow and farm as co-conspirators. Helen then explained how the water represented my emotions and when one horse started slapping the surface with his hoof to rhythmically “stir up the emotions” she encouraged me to climb up the little hill to get a better look.
I gave Helen a look that communicated “well, yes and he could just be playing with the water now, couldn’t he” and noticed the horses had silently moved into position behind me leaving completely cut-off from Helen and then began nudging me (now 600 lbs. of horses “nudging,” you remember). Their message was very movie Godfather-like, “listen up real good, cuz we’re only gonna say dis once, pay attention to da nice lady.” It worked and stopped any further sarcastic thoughts or responses bubbling up to anything the rest of this day.
“Horses,” said Helen, “are so telepathic and empathetic you need never actually say a word. They hear what you are going to say as you think it and react to it before you actually say it.” She (and they) now had my full attention. The rest of the day it became clear they were indeed hearing what I was thinking and it made me very careful of every thought. They also could sense when my defenses came up and even in a later exercise where Helen asked me to summon Holly and have him come to me, I had to lower my guard and really invite him before he would come to where I was standing. After two tries he came willingly and when all defenses were lowered, we stood there and I saw what a big tender baby he really is as I cupped his head gently in my hands and we stood like a pair of ballet dancers embraced in a silent pas de deux. It brought up bucket loads of emotion to see how badly I had misjudged this gentle giant (and through him so many others throughout my life).
It was a brilliant end to an amazing day. I left with an open heart and a spring to my step. The horses quietly munched on the fresh grass, as no sentimentality was asked for or needed. They were done, lesson learned, it’s time to eat. And as I watched them standing there while darkness crept over the meadow, I knew they were simply waiting for the next day’s person to learn their lesson.
You too will be assimilated, if you dare.
(As appeared on An American Abroad.com)
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