It is the end of the week and I have not written anything for Monday. Again resistance sets in. Not sure how to continue from where I left off last week. The size of the journey I embarked on was and is huge. The volume of information learned and learning, seems endless.
It is fourteen years later and I am not sure how I got here or what comes next. The blog is definitely part of it and yet I don’t know what it looks like. I see in pictures and when I don’t have a picture, like now, then I am at a loss and dead in the water. No movement as the horses would see it.
So I will tell the story of the mice who get into the mare’s mineral feeder.
I check horses every morning. The mares live in the 153 acre meadow pasture in the winter and in the corner near the gate is a mineral feeder. This feeder is heavy black plastic that stands a little over three feet tall. In the top of the feeder are two depressions, one on each side, big enough to hold a 50 pound block of mineral. The middle section is a deep well and like a well if you fall in you are not able to get out on your own.
Frequently mice get down into this well area of the feeder. On Thursday morning this past week there were two brown field mice in the feeder well, huddled together in the right hand corner. I asked permission to communicate with them. They were not sure; their big concern was; was I going to kill them. I showed them I would keep them safe. I asked them was there anything they wanted of me and they showed me a picture of grass. Translated meant they wanted to be on the grass. I did my best to show them my hand curling around them and lifting them out onto the grass.
I gently got my hands around the first mouse and lifted it out. It jumped off my hand, stood for a moment, looked up at me then scurried off around the base of the feeder. I reached in for the second mouse only this mouse would not let go of my gloved hand. I rested my hand on the ground and finally it jumped off going as fast as it could in the same direction of the first mouse.
What the mice have taught me is they are not victims nor am I the great rescuer when they get down into the feeder. It is a very humbling experience to learn this. Life is choices for humans and mice alike. For me to ask is there something they would like from me is hugely different then me assuming I know what is best for them and going into rescue mode. My thinking I am rescuing the mice is not respectful of their beingness and it is me working from my ego. This lesson has taken many encounters with the mice to learn.
The mice have helped me change my point of view. If they make choices that land them at the bottom of the feeder it is simply that. There is no judgment of them which ultimately makes them a victim. Me not seeing myself as the rescuer takes me out of judgment and ego. They show me the picture of grass and I become an elevator.
From their point of view if they die in the feeder and sometimes they do, that is what happens. No big deal. I am the one who made it a big deal. For me to see the mice as beings in their own right with choices of their own to make has changed the whole picture for me. It is a liberating lesson and I am thankful to the mice for teaching me.