REAWAKENING OUR PEACEFUL NATURE
A Choice to Change the Story of Humanity
By: Greta Matos, Chile
Are you willing to let go of the stories you’ve been told, and the stories you tell yourself, about all the ways you must wrangle, dominate, and train the wildness within you, in order to “be acceptable”? Are you here, in this life, for the relationship or with an agenda? Are you here for connection or achievement? Are you able to relinquish your need to feel safe, only if you feel in control? Are you willing to slow down enough to feel the largeness of your spirit as it fills an entire field, embodying every stone, every blade of grass, every bird and breath and drop of water coursing through the wild river shaping the land?
All of these questions have washed over me in waves as I’ve stepped into the field with this herd of horses day after day, year after year. In many ways, these questions are the thread that is being continuously unwound within me as I learn to step more and more gently through my life.
When horses live in a related, holistic, and harmonious manner within an ecosystem, their peace, ease, and the interwoven essence that connects the individual horse with the land, the herd, and the whole - challenges every story we’ve ever been told about how horses should live.
Equally, their presence, as it does in so many contexts, lifts a mirror that challenges every story we’ve also been told about how humans should live, and what our role on this earth is meant to be. So often we’ve been told we are entitled to dominate this planet. So often we’ve been encouraged to tame and control what is wild – within nature, horses, and ourselves.
Being Misled by Insecurity
Dominance and control are rooted in the feeling of insecurity. If we can sit quietly among a herd of horses, or within a grove of multi-century trees, or beside a still wild river, and call forth all the moments when we felt dominance over another was required, we will always find that it was insecurity that pushed forth the action. Dominating another being is done when we do not feel secure in our own power and safety. Dominating a landscape, or ecosystem, is done when we do not feel secure in our access to resources. This insecurity is an individual construct. It is not a behavior that is expressed naturally through a whole ecosystem, or a whole herd; however, this individual insecurity has clearly rippled out and through our human collective as a conditioned way of being. In many ways, we have lost touch with the peaceful predator that was born wild within each of us. When we tend to a path of rewilding – rewilding the horses, the land, and the soul – we find our way back to the way of the peaceful predator within.
There is a wild essence threaded through all of us, and this essence knows how to live in harmony with all beings, without violence. For many of us, this essence lay dormant within, buried deep below a hardened, jagged mountain of conditioning about what is required in order to be “good enough”. Our human expressions of dominance over the Earth, horses, and over our very souls, are deeply connected to an individual and collective sense of insecurity about that which we cannot control. However, when we look at the peaceful nature within all other living beings on this planet, and we acknowledge the peaceful, generous nature that resides within the human spirit as well, it is clear that we have been misled by this story of dominance, by this false claim that we cannot be safe and secure until all that is wild has been tamed.
To change a collective story, we must change our individual story, which guides me back to these questions that have come up within me, again and again as I live in quiet contemplation with the herd.
When horses live in a related, holistic, and harmonious manner within an ecosystem, their peace, ease, and the interwoven essence that connects the individual horse with the land, the herd, and the whole - challenges every story we’ve ever been told about how horses should live.
Equally, their presence, as it does in so many contexts, lifts a mirror that challenges every story we’ve also been told about how humans should live, and what our role on this earth is meant to be. So often we’ve been told we are entitled to dominate this planet. So often we’ve been encouraged to tame and control what is wild – within nature, horses, and ourselves.
Being Misled by Insecurity
Dominance and control are rooted in the feeling of insecurity. If we can sit quietly among a herd of horses, or within a grove of multi-century trees, or beside a still wild river, and call forth all the moments when we felt dominance over another was required, we will always find that it was insecurity that pushed forth the action. Dominating another being is done when we do not feel secure in our own power and safety. Dominating a landscape, or ecosystem, is done when we do not feel secure in our access to resources. This insecurity is an individual construct. It is not a behavior that is expressed naturally through a whole ecosystem, or a whole herd; however, this individual insecurity has clearly rippled out and through our human collective as a conditioned way of being. In many ways, we have lost touch with the peaceful predator that was born wild within each of us. When we tend to a path of rewilding – rewilding the horses, the land, and the soul – we find our way back to the way of the peaceful predator within.
There is a wild essence threaded through all of us, and this essence knows how to live in harmony with all beings, without violence. For many of us, this essence lay dormant within, buried deep below a hardened, jagged mountain of conditioning about what is required in order to be “good enough”. Our human expressions of dominance over the Earth, horses, and over our very souls, are deeply connected to an individual and collective sense of insecurity about that which we cannot control. However, when we look at the peaceful nature within all other living beings on this planet, and we acknowledge the peaceful, generous nature that resides within the human spirit as well, it is clear that we have been misled by this story of dominance, by this false claim that we cannot be safe and secure until all that is wild has been tamed.
To change a collective story, we must change our individual story, which guides me back to these questions that have come up within me, again and again as I live in quiet contemplation with the herd.
Zalig
Reawakening the Peaceful, Wildness Within
Zalig was born in one of the few still-wild corners of the Earth, deep within the remote landscape of southern Patagonia. He was raised by the untamable wind of the region. His presence is vast, like an ancient alerce whose trunk is so wide it would block his entire body if he stood alongside it. He can fly like the wind if he wishes to. If you wish to catch him, to authentically partner with him, he’ll require you to embody your peaceful predatory nature.
Zalig has been my mentor in this process of stepping more softly while doing so with clarity, intention, and peace. He has been the greatest source of encouragement to take these profound words of poet Nayyirah Waheed from the page and to grind them back into my bones where they belong:
“there is peaceful.
there is wild.
i am both at the same time.”
Stepping into the field, I step into the conversation between the horses and the land. I feel them, feeling me enter. They feel my intention, my heartbeat, my breath. My awareness of this slows me down, dropping me into the rhythm of nature, connecting my nature with their nature and the nature within all that surrounds us. If I want my presence to be an equal participant in the conversation rather than an interruption, I must embody deep listening. As I attune to the horses, and I feel their attunement to me, we dance with the invisible space between us. Our senses exchange endless bits of information, much of which I’m not even able to consciously grasp, and yet I can FEEL the resonance of the exchange. I can feel the relationship. I can feel the engagement.
There is a space, a breath, within this pause in approach, where I can feel the edge of my desire to advance with an agenda. It is here where the truth of my intention is revealed to both of us. Within this quiet space of observation and reflection, I’ve had to interrogate myself to understand what is beneath my need to choose an agenda rather than a relationship. I’ve had to seek a deeper understanding of what safety and security actually mean for me, and I’ve had to decide and declare my unwillingness to believe the old stories that dominance and control are the only way we can be safe. I’ve had to choose this, and in this personal choice, I’ve felt a melting quality occur within. This melting, this softening, has allowed for the unpredictable, yet steady, energy of nature and the herd to flow into my whole being and take up residence there. It is through this felt sense of the peaceful wildness within me that I am able to approach Zalig and the herd without interrupting the broader conversation.
Zalig was born in one of the few still-wild corners of the Earth, deep within the remote landscape of southern Patagonia. He was raised by the untamable wind of the region. His presence is vast, like an ancient alerce whose trunk is so wide it would block his entire body if he stood alongside it. He can fly like the wind if he wishes to. If you wish to catch him, to authentically partner with him, he’ll require you to embody your peaceful predatory nature.
Zalig has been my mentor in this process of stepping more softly while doing so with clarity, intention, and peace. He has been the greatest source of encouragement to take these profound words of poet Nayyirah Waheed from the page and to grind them back into my bones where they belong:
“there is peaceful.
there is wild.
i am both at the same time.”
Stepping into the field, I step into the conversation between the horses and the land. I feel them, feeling me enter. They feel my intention, my heartbeat, my breath. My awareness of this slows me down, dropping me into the rhythm of nature, connecting my nature with their nature and the nature within all that surrounds us. If I want my presence to be an equal participant in the conversation rather than an interruption, I must embody deep listening. As I attune to the horses, and I feel their attunement to me, we dance with the invisible space between us. Our senses exchange endless bits of information, much of which I’m not even able to consciously grasp, and yet I can FEEL the resonance of the exchange. I can feel the relationship. I can feel the engagement.
There is a space, a breath, within this pause in approach, where I can feel the edge of my desire to advance with an agenda. It is here where the truth of my intention is revealed to both of us. Within this quiet space of observation and reflection, I’ve had to interrogate myself to understand what is beneath my need to choose an agenda rather than a relationship. I’ve had to seek a deeper understanding of what safety and security actually mean for me, and I’ve had to decide and declare my unwillingness to believe the old stories that dominance and control are the only way we can be safe. I’ve had to choose this, and in this personal choice, I’ve felt a melting quality occur within. This melting, this softening, has allowed for the unpredictable, yet steady, energy of nature and the herd to flow into my whole being and take up residence there. It is through this felt sense of the peaceful wildness within me that I am able to approach Zalig and the herd without interrupting the broader conversation.
Restoring Relationship with the Wild
Living and working in a context where wildness has a voice requires us to be radically accountable for our actions. There are consequences to allowing the wildness within to guide us forward, and we need to be willing to agree with those consequences. Nurturing the wild essence of a landscape might mean you cannot choose the building site with the best view, because that disruption is out of harmonious balance with the land and the water and the other beings inhabiting and sharing the ecosystem. Tending to the wild essence of a horse might require you to radically change what you “do” together, and how you do it. Living into the wild essence of a soul might mean leaving a steady, “safe” career, or a relationship that is “comfortable” because neither enhances vitality. This is where we must be clear in our commitment to make the sometimes uncomfortable choice we know we must.
What the herd reminds us of, that many of us have lost touch with in these busy, agenda-oriented conventional lives, is that in order to transmit our peacefulness, to truly embody it, we need to slow down. We literally must move slower when we are with the herd, as we feel our way toward the path of shared resonance between our presence and theirs. If we do not, we spook them, and they are off, removing themselves from our busy presence.
When a tree is felled without acknowledgement, without even a breath of gratitude, I believe we invoke a mourning process within the body of the Earth. She does not mourn our violent nature. She mourns the distance we’ve created between our actions and our peaceful nature. We simply move too fast for the sake of “development”, the sake of “progress” and in doing so, we violate our own inner nature that is oriented toward moving slowly enough to sense when we have permission, and when we do not. It is only in this slower pace, in this space where there is a breath, a pause, a listening, where we can feel our eternal choice related to how we use our power.
Of course, there are many contexts where people consciously choose control and dominance over another being or a landscape for their personal gains. However, I would argue that this is the minority of our species. We are an incredibly generous force of nature. But perhaps the greatest risk we face at this moment, are the countless people who choose this path unconsciously because they move too swiftly; because they cannot remember what it feels like to be whole while in relationship with all living and dying beings. They have lost touch with their own innate wildness.
Living and working in a context where wildness has a voice requires us to be radically accountable for our actions. There are consequences to allowing the wildness within to guide us forward, and we need to be willing to agree with those consequences. Nurturing the wild essence of a landscape might mean you cannot choose the building site with the best view, because that disruption is out of harmonious balance with the land and the water and the other beings inhabiting and sharing the ecosystem. Tending to the wild essence of a horse might require you to radically change what you “do” together, and how you do it. Living into the wild essence of a soul might mean leaving a steady, “safe” career, or a relationship that is “comfortable” because neither enhances vitality. This is where we must be clear in our commitment to make the sometimes uncomfortable choice we know we must.
What the herd reminds us of, that many of us have lost touch with in these busy, agenda-oriented conventional lives, is that in order to transmit our peacefulness, to truly embody it, we need to slow down. We literally must move slower when we are with the herd, as we feel our way toward the path of shared resonance between our presence and theirs. If we do not, we spook them, and they are off, removing themselves from our busy presence.
When a tree is felled without acknowledgement, without even a breath of gratitude, I believe we invoke a mourning process within the body of the Earth. She does not mourn our violent nature. She mourns the distance we’ve created between our actions and our peaceful nature. We simply move too fast for the sake of “development”, the sake of “progress” and in doing so, we violate our own inner nature that is oriented toward moving slowly enough to sense when we have permission, and when we do not. It is only in this slower pace, in this space where there is a breath, a pause, a listening, where we can feel our eternal choice related to how we use our power.
Of course, there are many contexts where people consciously choose control and dominance over another being or a landscape for their personal gains. However, I would argue that this is the minority of our species. We are an incredibly generous force of nature. But perhaps the greatest risk we face at this moment, are the countless people who choose this path unconsciously because they move too swiftly; because they cannot remember what it feels like to be whole while in relationship with all living and dying beings. They have lost touch with their own innate wildness.
The Great, Vital Invitation
The beacon of light that emerges from the field when we sit quietly among a herd of horses that is living harmoniously with their ecosystem, is that we remember how to return to this sense of wholeness – without having first to heal, change, evolve, or do anything other than be fully present in this precious breath and moment. And this is our great, vital invitation, the eternal demonstration of the way in which we can never be separate from this Earth, nor one another. This is our great reminder of the power of choice that we hold: the choice to dominate, or the choice to co-create; the choice to control, or the choice to collaborate.
Either way, it is time for us to put to rest the story that we must use dominance, control, or violence over another in order to be safe. This is an untruth. This is a violation of natural law. It is time to allow that decaying story to be hospiced and be buried deep within the layers of the Earth so that it can be consumed by her and transformed into something more life-giving. As the horses tell us again and again and again, we always have a choice.
The great invitation from the herd, from the ecosystems we inhabit, from our very souls who are tending to the harmony of our nature within, is that we choose a different path.
Remember what it feels like to be as large as a wild river valley,
remember what it feels like to be as peaceful as a bluebell,
remember what it feels like to let go of your decaying leaves; and
remember what it feels like to gather together as a herd and receive the bountiful goodness of the sun after the storm.
Remember, you are always safe within the embrace of the Earth, even if this is the last embrace of death.
Tell a different story; the story of love, the story of harmony, the story of humans coexisting with all beings as peaceful predators. ~*~
The beacon of light that emerges from the field when we sit quietly among a herd of horses that is living harmoniously with their ecosystem, is that we remember how to return to this sense of wholeness – without having first to heal, change, evolve, or do anything other than be fully present in this precious breath and moment. And this is our great, vital invitation, the eternal demonstration of the way in which we can never be separate from this Earth, nor one another. This is our great reminder of the power of choice that we hold: the choice to dominate, or the choice to co-create; the choice to control, or the choice to collaborate.
Either way, it is time for us to put to rest the story that we must use dominance, control, or violence over another in order to be safe. This is an untruth. This is a violation of natural law. It is time to allow that decaying story to be hospiced and be buried deep within the layers of the Earth so that it can be consumed by her and transformed into something more life-giving. As the horses tell us again and again and again, we always have a choice.
The great invitation from the herd, from the ecosystems we inhabit, from our very souls who are tending to the harmony of our nature within, is that we choose a different path.
Remember what it feels like to be as large as a wild river valley,
remember what it feels like to be as peaceful as a bluebell,
remember what it feels like to let go of your decaying leaves; and
remember what it feels like to gather together as a herd and receive the bountiful goodness of the sun after the storm.
Remember, you are always safe within the embrace of the Earth, even if this is the last embrace of death.
Tell a different story; the story of love, the story of harmony, the story of humans coexisting with all beings as peaceful predators. ~*~
