IF I STOP RUNNING I WILL DIE

Espíritu

Veterans Equine Alliance

THE HORSE GUY

COACHING WITH HORSES

STORY #169

IF I STOP RUNNING I WILL DIE

And other beliefs I mistook for myself

Some years ago while living in sunny Southern California I decided to treat myself to my first pair of transition sun glasses. On the day I was to pick them up I shared my excitement with my wife. “I can’t wait to see the world change in front of my eyes,” I said. She put on her party pooper hat before saying, “You won’t notice a change because everything you see will have already passed through your lens.” I thought this was the most ridiculous things I had ever heard and drove defiantly down to the optician’s office.

Ten minutes later, standing out in the sunny parking lot I called home, complaining that my glasses didn’t work. My wife, summoning Herculean levels of patience and compassion towards her stunted husband said: “Look at your reflection in the car window, dearest one (not exactly what she called me) and tell me what you see.” I did as I was ordered and, sure enough, my glasses worked. Sure enough, I had not noticed.

This one time my wife was right.

Sitting next to one of our horses in the paddock recently I reflected on how easy it is to mistake the events we see happening out there with what may actually be happening. We think we are experiencing reality but what we are actually experiencing and perceiving are circumstances already shaped by our beliefs and assumptions. We mistake the illusion we experience for reality. It doesn’t just happen? with desert mirages; it happens most every day. It most often happens in times of change and uncertainty. Returning veterans attempting to re-enter civilian life may especially be vulnerable.

Here are the top illusions that I and others have gotten trapped in.

If I stop running I will die. This statement was shared by a leader in a workshop group I facilitated. The discussion centered around the pace of change and how challenging it was to manage one’s calendar. Someone dared to suggest that even when there were slow days, or unstructured days, we still look relentlessly for things to occupy us. The room fell silent. Finally, a woman whispered her fear of dying if she stopped running, stopped pushing. More silence. I asked if she were speaking metaphorically. “No”. We remained silent for another two minutes before I asked: “We are not moving and yet you appear to be alive. What is this like for you?” She could not answer.

From that day on I have begun every team retreat with one to two minutes of silence.

If I’m not perfect then I am nothing.

One of my personal favorites. Many who have been raised in religious families as I was may have visited this twisted mental trap. I actually had a priest who taught high school history class take a paddle and hit any students whose current test performance was less than their previous results. Suddenly, I was terrified that my 95 on the mid term exam doomed me to a second semester of recurring pain. I wore several pair of under shorts on history class days. Today, this moron would be arrested.

If I don’t do well on a current project I am nothing.

I am defined by what I do. When things go well I am good. When things don’t go well I am nothing. This is a close cousin to perfection and equally hurtful. Practiced unconsciously, this belief renders us always playing to ‘NOT LOSE’, rather than playing to win. With so much on the line each day it is easy to forget that high levels of performance and achievement are more likely to occur with a mindset of being fully invested with nothing to win or lose. This flow state eludes us when we use performance to prove something to ourselves about ourselves. Our soul knows our inherent beauty; it doesn’t need us to prove anything.

I must always know stuff; if I don’t know it means I am stupid. If I am stupid I am nothing.

This assumption is always at play when there is someone who must always be the smartest guy in the room (yes, it is mostly men who fall into this trough). On my sixtieth birthday my wife bought me one day’s worth of training at the US Paragliding School. Easily the oldest one at training that day and the only one there for the first time I successfully flew five times. You would have though I’d be elated. Sadly, I was frustrated that I did not know how to instantly get my body and my chute to do what I wanted them to do. I was disgusted with myself. That night at home I grunted “I would rather be dead than stupid.” This came from the deepest and truest pat of my being. My body shuddered when I spoke. I was shocked when I heard myself.

Unless we have felt the real emotional impact our limiting beliefs have had on us we can rest assured they still operate with relative freedom.

If I look at darker, more ragged places within me I may get stuck there and be unable to get back.

There is a lot of pressure on us to remain cut off from and to deny the deeper places within us. Places marked by fear, doubt, uncertainty and harsh self judgments. Remember when your mother warned you if you crossed your eyes they may get stuck there? Silly, yes? But the possibility that we could do things that would cause irreparable damage was planted. At some point many of us were led to believe that there were places within us that we should simply ignore and stay away from. Of course, the energy from these denied, disowned places tends to leak out. When this happens our radar is activated and we react…usually in less than healthy ways.

My credibility and respect lie in the hands of others. I must be liked and respected by them or I am in big, life threatening trouble. Our entire education system is built upon this faulty assumption. Organizational hierarchies are as well. We’re continually dancing to quarters someone else throws. Whoever sits in front of the class must know more than we do. Whoever has better, thicker carpeting in their office controls my life and career. The best I can do is play nice and be a good ________. Like the spiritual masters have said for eons — There is no safe way to be great.

If I am not in community I am alone…and deserve to be. If I am afraid of the unknown, I am afraid on my own.

Coming out of overseas military service myself, I remember feeling deep loneliness in the months following my service discharge. I toughed my way through it as I went back to college. While I learned independence and self reliance I also was convinced no one really understood the loss of my community of brothers overseas. No one, even in my family, checked in on me about how I was doing after ending a two-year period of my life thousands of miles away. It would have made the transition easier. Other soldiers are not as lucky; they check out (die) assuming they are alone. They have never been alone, separate from the community of Divine beings. They never could be.

They die never knowing the beautiful truth of who they are. There must be a better way to reach them and be the acceptance they need ourselves.

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There are no doubt gifts in each of these illusions but ultimately they strangle the life, creativity and purpose from us.

Horses live and show us an alternative way of being: Authenticity. They sense our inner life in ways far stronger and clearer than we do.

Equine Authenticity means: Show up as you are, bring your full self to the experience, don’t wait and try to be something other than who you are right now. Celebrate, don’t condemn, your fear, insecurity and ‘don’t know’ mind. When done well, these qualities help us to show up alert, aware, open minded and curious. The experience is one of being welcomed into a community — a herd — of amazing beings.

Imagine the good trouble we could get into then.

Come, taste and discover for yourself. The solution to being disappeared is to be seen and embraced as we are. Horses are masters at seeing through us to the wholeness within and helping us move through transitions with grace and ease.

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