Maeve's Blog

Before I set off I picture her, willing her to be there when I pass. I know this walk will help to ease the burden of emotion weighing on me. She will help.

No headphones, no phone, no distractions. I need to be with nature and let it do its work.

As I trudge up the hill, birdsong filling my ears, I take in the primroses and buttercups. Their pale and vibrant yellows decorating the hedgerows. I celebrate their appearance with a moment of appreciation and a small smile. More colourful days to come. Hands shoved in my pockets and head dipped I hope I don’t meet any neighbours and have to chit chat, not today.

I breathe the crisp air into my lungs, swallowing mouthfuls in an attempt to bring it’s freshness, it’s lightness into my heavy body. Opening myself up to the wind I allow it to carry what worries it can away with it, like dandelion seeds on the breeze.

When I round the corner there she is. My heart lifts a little at the sight of her chocolate brown magnificence. Silently I beckon her over. Slowly and with ease she makes her way to me, stopping at an arms-length. I reach out and place my hand gently on her beautiful face. Lowering her head slightly she signals that I can stroke her. I am grateful for the gesture.

In gentle silence she holds space for me while I open up my heart to her. Her healing presence granting permission for everything that ails me to flow out. Her magical powers turn on a faucet inside me, releasing the pain, grief and sea of swirling emotions that had been holding me in a sodden mess. Instinctively she knows what I need, better than I know myself. For quite some time she does not stir, except for the occasional twitching of her ears to pick up the faint rumbling of a distant tractor. Once or twice I wonder ‘Should I go now’. Her silent stillness tells me ‘No. Stay’.

Eventually, the mechanical noise of a passing car breaks the silence and releases us from our trance. I pick hay and dirt from her mane and thank her for the service she has done me. Our eyes never meet but there is an unspoken understanding between us. I rub down her cheeks with the kind of affection I have for my children. ‘Next time I pass I will bring you an apple’, I tell her. Her work done she slowly moves away.

On the walk home, my load lightened, I wonder if I could hold space like that for another human being – silent compassion that simply allows them to release whatever is causing them suffering. It would be an honour, I think to myself.

Two weeks later I’m in the car with my mother. Something I say triggers her (a regular occurrence). Instead of becoming triggered also I practice. I say nothing, I stay calm and in my heart. I allow what needs to flow out of her without judgement, without personalizing it, without feeling the need to interject or correct. I just let it be. After a couple of minutes she is emptied of her burden. She is calm. I am calm. We start talking about migrating birds.