The wind-driven rain pours down the hill this morning like wreaths of misty smoke, reminding me of recent more settled days when we gathered in circle around our fire pit.
The smoke swirled then, at once concealing and revealing the hurts and the heartbreaking circumstances that led us to meet. We all carry wounds and we all try to hide these wounds from each other so as not to expose them further. At times there is so much raw pain in our circles; there is laughter, truth, tears and shared stories, too. The stories belong to those who carry them and they are secrets waiting for an invitation to become part of lived experience. The unburdening of pain and secrets releases us to become more open, and vulnerable than we dare to in ordinary life.
It has been a privilege to host our latest series of circles. Each time we gather in this way, I learn something new about love and loss. This time I saw how pain freed from its chrysalis can transmute into creativity. Poems, drawings, inspired ideas and radiant connectivity all emerged in our last round. How can it be, I wonder that such a simple container as a human and animal circle can hold so much that is healing and wholesome? So much that unites us? In a world increasingly torn apart by dichotomies, schisms and polarities, to join together in this way feels radical. It feels like hope, a tiny flicker of light in the darkness. We all trust the circle is strong enough to hold us as we open our hearts and find the courage to let ourselves be seen.
There is a wealth of talent in our small team of volunteers, each person genuinely gifted; we are all so diverse and various, indeed we laugh about it…how can such an eclectic bunch of people get along? We have come to see that belonging is not the same as fitting in. Belonging allows us to remain as we truly are, and because we are free to be who we are meant to be without role playing or masking, we can honestly connect with each other. And these are the most fertile of conditions for creativity to flourish.
We were all touched by the poem written by one of our volunteers and she has given me permission to share it here. Written from the heart, it speaks to us all.
We speak into the smoke. It curls around us, landing soft snowy embers on shivering shoulders, dotting black jackets. At first, I feel relieved to hide behind it. It feels safer, to speak to the grey, not seeing the eyes or listening faces. But as the smoke weaves its gentle arms around the circle, it starts to pull us in closer. Are the tears mine, or do they belong to the ash? I lean forward onto my knees, and my eyes sting, but I can feel the warmth, the embrace of smoke, and both are telling me it’s okay. You’re safe here – you belong here. You do not have to hide behind me.
We’ve abandoned our chairs. Restless movements to fight away the chill, blowing misty plumes into the air. The smoke has settled. It’s snoozing over hot coals, and it draws sleepy breaths in and out. We watch it, stood closer now. Reach out hands stained lilac and pink by the cold, offer them to be held by the fire’s warmth. I’m not hiding any more. Our circle drifts and breaks, separates and comes together again, but no matter where we are, how far we fall away into the cold…the amber glow of flames draws us back, and they whisper tell us your stories. Share with me your joy, and your sorrow. I will hold both.
I’m not speaking into the smoke any more. I’m speaking to faces, listening faces, and they laugh, and speak back, and it feels like the fire has taken root in my chest. Or at least, something just as warm.
Starting a new year can be hard when you have been unwell for a long time. We know mental health recovery follows no calendar and new beginnings can feel daunting. We may be facing more chilly and stormy weather ahead, but the warmth will return, and so we move forward, one small step at a time.
Horsemanship for Health 