Here I am with my earnest intentions. On beautiful mornings, I will meditate with the horses. I will sit in the sun, take my seat and spruce up my mind. It will be great.
As soon as I arrive, find my mindfulness app with the perfect bell set not too high, not too low, Tinker makes contact. You are absorbed in something, she says, which is of interest to me. You are accessible therefore I will come to keep you company. At the same time you will provide a handy sun shade and provide fly relief when I put my head between your knees. This is great.
I am committed to meditation and distractions are good for working on your commitment. I begin. Tinker lowers her head and breathes with me. We enter into a state of blissful connection. I am at peace. I hear wild geese passing over the stubble field and, in the distance, church bells. This is great. Just what I came for.
Tinker gets restless and pushes her head against my arm. The flies are annoying her again and I am very useful in rubbing them off. Her eyes are itchy and my knees make good bony scratching posts.
I look at my timer. I’m halfway through my meditation and I have achieved about five seconds of settled breathing. The rest of the time my attention has been on Tinker’s antics. This is not so great but in many ways it mirrors my life. How many times have I tried to dedicate quiet time for meditation or reflection? How many times have I failed and given up in frustration?
I wonder what I need to learn here? Do I keep trying or find something else to do with my precious time? I’m working on my inner life here and I have flies in my boots and a pony eating the plastic box upon which I have taken my seat.
The answer is obvious now that I see it. I need to lighten up and let go of the need to find a perfect outcome. My meditation looks and feels like my life. Of course, it does. Why should I be surprised? The very marrow of meditation as I understand it from the Buddhist tradition is not to clean your mind but to really be present to your life and read it for what it is.
Whatever is in my life will also change. After a few moments of unsettled inquisitiveness, Tinker moves off to find something more interesting and Sheranni takes her place.
I take a deep breath. He breathes with me. We stay connected breathing in and out. His presence is strong and tender. You don’t need to get it perfectly right, he says. You just need to breathe.
Horsemanship for Health 