How Time Works
As Learned Through a Lifetime with my Horse
Stephanie Sawtelle, U.S.A.

Dear fellow time traveler,
My first horse, Downey, taught me how time works.
Time drips, freezes, stretches, and stops, but there's even more to it than that.
By way of explaining, allow me to start at what I once would have called the end...

THE END

I sit across from the medium, a tangle of anticipation, excitement, and fear. I want a message, proof, some piece of tangible evidence that tells me life isn't over when it's over. I am beside myself with the implications of any potential outcome of this meeting, and I have brought the pressure of my question-filled vacuum to sit with me in front of the medium. She says some words that I desperately want to assign meaning to. This message from beyond could be from my grandparent. Or my cousin. Or my friend's aunt. But wait, surely, a real message, proof, would be from an easily identifiable source, right?

I start to worry that this message will live in my memory as a carrot dangling from a stick, constantly tempting me to swipe and grab, only to feel nothing of substance in my hand. At the end of my time with the medium, my passed-on heart horse, who I was 100% sure would be first in line to give me a message from beyond, hadn't spoken up. I am crushed by the unfairness, disappointed in my expectations, and feeling unmoored. My question of why she didn't reach out through this obvious channel turns the gears of my memories, and I reflect on my life with her.

The clock hands begin to tick.

Most of us know linear time, measured time. We know this as seconds, minutes, hours, days, weeks, months, and years. It passes like water from a leaky faucet, one drop at a time, giving us the experience of past, present, and future. Downey taught me this through the progression of time. We grew to know each other, practiced skills, developed strength and endurance, and aged together. This experience of time brings us beginnings and endings.

MEMORY ONE

I am fifteen years old, the only horse lover in my family, and have just been told I can have a horse of my own. It is a certifiable miracle! 

A fellow horseperson, a mere acquaintance, knows of horses that need homes, and we make an appointment to see them.

At the farm, a horse is led out of the barn. I do not see her handled at all beyond being led a short distance to a round pen. She trots around the perimeter. Our accompanying horseperson, the facilitator of this exciting appointment, who has never seen me around a horse, never vetted my experience, nor ever before met this particular horse, does not suggest any other interactions beyond this and appears to give her stamp of approval.

Regarding this horse, I knew her age, four; her color, bay; and her name, Downey. And purely because of the potential that she could be mine, I decide she is the most beautiful horse I have ever seen, and she is perfect for me. My eyes are riveted.

Time stands still.

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Some of us know how time stands still. This is where one moment lasts much longer than just one moment. In fact, it lasts forever. Some impactful sensory information is imprinted in our being to such depth that it never leaves and never changes, like water that is frozen. I experienced this when I first saw Downey. Every love-at-first-sight or awestruck moment is an experience of time standing still. ​

MEMORY TWO

My heart is steeped in the essence of our lifelong connection: the warm, earthy smell when my face is buried in Downey's mane; the feel of every powerful muscle contrasting with every soft hair as my fingers memorize her shape; the first encounter when we know nothing of each other; that first exchange of freedom, power, speed, and grace; the five hundredth encounter when she knows me better than I know myself.  And I know myself better only because of her.

I recall the sights of the endlessly changing landscapes we traveled together for miles, hours, years, and lifetimes.  I recall the night sky as seen from the pasture next to a softly grazing mare.

I recall the challenges that were overcome, journeys undertaken, and agreements made. Somewhere in this expanse, we learned a new language, and secrets flowed between us. She rewrote my trajectory over and over and over.

The memories blend as seamlessly as our bodies and spirits did in a string of linked moments of a shared life.
​
Time stretches on forever.

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This type of time is like the drip of a faucet opening to a steady stream of water, with no definition between water drops. There's a continuity that becomes a thing unto itself. The beginning, ending, and even each middle part become hazy and ill-defined. When did the thread shared by Downey and I start? Did it begin when I became her owner or when I first saw her? Did it start when I got permission to have a horse or when I felt that first spark of horse love as a young child? Or was it written in the stars even before? There's a truth that even the order and progression of things, the linear aspects, don't solely define the timeline of the experience.

MEMORY THREE

I am thirty-two. I sit with Downey. Her spirit has largely left her body, which lies on the stall floor in its last minutes of life.

I am desperate with grief and heavy with the responsibility to make meaningful these last moments together: cataloging the sensory details that will soon be unavailable, making amends for my lack, which is obvious now, in hindsight, facing the challenge to express infinite love in limited time.

I realize she's done nothing but fulfill my dreams, consent to my agenda, and carry me through every up and down of my life. And while she's meeting the end with grace, I'm fighting it with every cell of my being, and even in her death, I am again asking her to fulfill one last request.

"Downey, please send me a sign from beyond. Please."

She is gone. I am left behind.

Time stops.

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Here is the duality of knowing something through the experience of its opposite. It is here where we learn that time stops.

Time stops.

Let the contradiction of that word-pairing settle in. Something defined by its very movement is no longer moving. The impossibility of this concept was equal to the impossibility that time could exist for me without Downey. If time is water, this is the faucet turned off. Without another perspective, this was the aspect of time I learned when I thought Downey left this life. This is the experience of time most often brought on by unimaginable loss or foundation-shattering change. We can't imagine or do not even want to progress into another moment that is so different from what was previously known. It's as if some protective mechanism dismantles the structure of time and removes the option of having another moment to move forward into.
​
So, fellow traveler, time drips, freezes, stretches, and stops, but, as Downey had yet to show me, there's even more to it than that.

THE BEGINNING

I sit across from the medium. I am left unfulfilled. I rise from the chair with a low head and low spirits. On my way to my car, I am stopped by an old horse friend. We are miles from the barn we have in common and years past the days when we used to see each other regularly. I blink at the synchronicity.

"I have something for you! I've been carrying it hoping to run into you someday,” she says.

From her fingers to mine passes a picture. It is my favorite picture of Downey and me, where we are swimming together in a pond, the perfect reflection of the fall colors mirrored in the water around us. It is a perfect moment in time from our endless stretch of shared life. And in this moment, I realize Downey is fulfilling my final request to prove our connection is, in fact, timeless.

Time loops back on itself, both forward and backward together, and begins again at the end.

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This is my favorite lesson on time from Downey so far, the realization of the multi-directional flow of time.

How can I come to any other conclusion after considering these simple facts: a friend, who could not have known my last request of Downey, happened to have my single favorite picture of Downey and me with her when we crossed paths at the very time and place that I was on a mission to receive word from Downey from the other side.

At what point in time did this chain of events order itself? Was it when my last request was made of Downey?  Or was it when the picture was taken? Or when my appointment with the medium was scheduled? The number of synchronicities arguably pushes this past coincidence, and points to something more ordered and intentional.

In this single experience, my previous understandings of time were validated as puzzle pieces of an overarching perspective that seems to encompass it all.

Time is not one thing; it does not work in only one direction or at one pace, but it is undeniably one of the great structures by which we can define, experience, and create our existence, including our connection with each other.

I wish for you the same perpetual awe and enduring connection that I have with Downey.

I wish you endings that are beginnings.

If you find yourself wanting to know how time works, spend some time with a horse; they'll show you everything. ~*~
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From one time traveler to another,

Equine Leadership Explorations

1) List personal experiences of each of these aspects of time, or set an intention to have an experience of each one and journal about them:
The clock hands begin to tick.                                                                                                                                                                                                                       
Time stands still.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                               
Time stretches on forever.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                 
Time stops.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                           
Time loops back on itself, forward and backward together.
​
2) Spend some unstructured free time with a horse without looking at a clock or setting a timer. This can be with a physical horse, near a horse, or virtually via video. How do you define when the time together starts or ends? How did you know it was time to be done? How would you describe your experience of time during this exploration?

Stephanie Sawtelle Bio

Stephanie is an advocate for holistic individual and collective wellness, and an expert on the dynamics of the horse-human relationship on physical, emotional, energetic, and spiritual levels. She facilitates meaningful horse-human interactions with a focus on mind-body connection, emotional intelligence, intuitive development, and the interconnectedness of all life. Guided by these dynamics, clients receive personalized life lessons, improved relational skills, empowerment, and helpful perspective shifts applicable to their unique journey and challenges. Besides a facilitator and mentor, she is also an author and public speaker, enjoying every opportunity to share stories and excitement for her work. Most importantly, beyond all these things, she is a unique expression of source having a human experience (just like you). Outside of her career she loves spending time with her animals and loved ones. She has an unending curiosity and love of new experiences. Stephanie is always learning, especially drawn to the intersection of science, spirituality, and life. She loves being outdoors, especially on the water, and rarely misses the chance to go sailing, paddle boarding, stargazing, or to visit the ocean.
 
You can reach her at  StephanieSawtelle.com

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