A Weight in My Heart: Life As An Empath (Part II)

I have one of the best careers in the world. Currently, I am unemployed, but since my early teen years I have been working alongside horses. I even went to college and studied being a stablehand as a professional career. I’m the girl who’s shovelled buckets of manure, groomed countless of warm equine bodies, tacked and untacked, fed, and watered.

Personally, from my experience and point of view, it takes a certain kind of person to work with animals. You have to have a passion – that’s evident. It can not only be grimy and gross, but incredibly dangerous, especially with horses.

They’re anywhere from 200-600 kg, with their own brains, and powerful legs. Flight instinct animals react first, think later –  it’s very difficult to calm them down when something has spooked them to the point of rearing or bolting. Any horse person will tell you we risk our lives being in the vicinity of them. We have to stay completely aware, reading their signals; if we miss those ears go back, we can end up kicked.

Yet with all of these risks I take, I wouldn’t change anything about working with horses. They’re amazing creatures, intelligent and deep. Funny, oh yes, and you never know if they’re being smart or dumb (I spent a good half-hour laughing at an ex-racehorse avoiding being caught, because he enjoyed running around the racecourse.)

Will I say my Empath traits are strong with horses? Most definitely. I began work as a stablehand at the Riding for the Disabled, a charity providing hippotherapy (therapy with horses) for riders of physical or intellectual disabilities. Another part to my Empath series will focus specifically on one little strawberry-blonde girl that stole my heart.

Animals (and children) communicate on levels us adult humans don’t. A horse relies more on body language, than even vocalising. We all know the signs of an angry, irritated horse – ears back, stiffened neck, pawing the ground, steely gaze, hind leg striking out as a warning. How do we know when a horse is happy? Sad? Hungry? Anxious? Aroused, even?

Atheistic, non-spiritual horse people will always say, it simply comes down to body language. Working with horses, I can say that’s only half the equation. I received glowing reports from my boss as an intern, saying I had a calming aura around them. I had some of their most hot-headed racehorses in my care. Pacing, breathing hard in pent-up excitement (“I WANNA GO! I WANNA RUN! NOW!”), inability to calm themselves down. That’s where I came in.

As an intern, work experience was incredibly basic. Mucking out. Cleaning out. Feeding out. Equipment cleaning. Rugging. Leading horses. Hosing down. General stablehand jobs, without riding them (I’m not qualified for riding racehorses.) While their trackriders saddled up and headed out on the track, it was my job to keep them steady, without anxiety.

Empaths don’t even have to switch themselves on or off. When our heart is open enough, we shine. I feel their breath… Slowly, stroking my hand over their flesh, noticing the quivering muscles. I hush them, soothing, a positive yet lulling voice. I feel their soul within their eyes (remember – direct eye contact can be considered a threat in horse language. Soften your gaze. Show a calm, helpful, soothing, non-threatening soul through body language and energy.) I become Calm Energy, and I send out Calm Energy.

I have lulled RDA horses into a peaceful doze simply by touch and connection. I don’t just read horses, I want to connect with them. Connecting means feeling them, beyond a touch or an aid of the rein. Some of the greatest horse people in the world, my latest favourite being Klaus Ferdinand Hempfling, go beyond the physical and into the horse’s soul. A man I sat under a workshop once, Franklin Levinson, had a lovely conversation with me, sharing the same principles. He had our beloved old boy (RIP) follow a stranger without any equipment, simply in a matter of two minutes.

I can go on and on about how sensing, feeling and energy enhances my ability to work with animals. I have five years of experience to share, and not enough space. Do I miss my work? Absolutely. Only personal circumstances are why I can’t do it right now. At least I know one thing: when you’ve found your calling, never stop dreaming big.

~

Part I