By Candida Baker
Learning to ‘listen’ with all our senses and the magic that happens when we keep an open mind about the idea of communication from the animal world. When author Candida left behind a city lifestyle and a high-profile job as editor of Weekend Australian Magazine, to live in the hills behind Byron Bay, little did she realize this was a first step on a journey of self-discovery – through her natural horsemanship, photography, writing and journalism – to an enhanced sense of spiritual and psychic connection with the animal world.Told through a series of true stories, each illustrating a life lesson, at its essence, The Heart of a Horse is about learning to listen, with all our senses.
Using her lifelong love of horses as the main vehicle for bridging the gap between our thought processes and intuition, Candida describes the magic that happens when we keep an open mind about the idea of communication from the animal world.RECENTLY A DEAR friend of mine came to visit. Her husband had died only ten days before, and she was overwhelmed, worrying particularly for her two beautiful children and how she was going to parent them.
Although she had been separated from her husband at the time he died, they’d remained close, and his death had been shocking. Friends who were worried that he’d had a heart attack took him to his local country hospital, where there was no doctor on duty, no crash cart, and no adrenalin. He died before help could arrive, and my friend’s two children, a 13-year-old boy and an 11-year-old girl who had been due to see him the night before were naturally grief-stricken and distraught. The boy, particularly distressed, was lashing out, and my friend was anxious to her core about him and afraid that at this particularly vulnerable age, he might go off the rails.
She came to my home so we could spend the afternoon together, and we mutually decided that horse and dog cuddles were a good idea. As we walked down towards the horses, I asked them (silently) if they could show my friend what she needed to see at that moment and to give her something that would help her through this difficult time. When we got to the paddock, I got a couple of seats, and for a while, we just sat in with Eva and Tyra, and as all good psychic horses do, they immediately tuned in to what was needed. After the initial carrots and cuddles, with us sitting quietly in their space, the horses chose to stay with us in their different ways.
Gentle Tyra offered my friend wisdom, compassion, and quiet kindness, dropping her head towards her and not for the first time showing me that, as a broodmare whose babies were inevitably taken away from her over and over again, she understood the grief of loss.
Eva, on the other hand, showed her energy, personal space invasion, and humor, pushing on my friend from time to time and bustling around us in her cheerful bossy way. And our French Bulldog, Willow, well, she showed her unconditional love for all of us! I taught my friend how to create a boundary with Eva so that she couldn’t space-invade just as she wanted to, and Eva lowered her head, licked and chewed, and wandered off, leaving Tyra in peace to offer an outpouring of love towards my friend.
For a minute, I tuned in to the gift I was receiving, and, as usual, like a pinprick of golden light, the vision came to me – I understood what the horses were doing.
‘See,’ I said, ‘they’re showing you the story.’‘What do you mean?’ she asked.
‘Well, they’re showing you the inter-generational process. You are Tyra, the wise woman for your children. Your quietness will be their guiding light, and even though they’re devastated, they still need boundaries for their behaviour – as does Eva. When they have boundaries, they feel safe, and they can calm down.’
It was a wonderful moment to observe as my friend almost lit up from within.
‘You know,’ she said, ‘I don’t think I would have got this any other way. Seeing the horses like this is just like seeing us.’And then, of course, the moment they were sure the message had been received, the horses turned away and went back to grazing. Job done. Thank you, horses.
The Gift: Grief offers us the chance to break through barriers. Creating quiet space allows the story to unfold naturally.
