I have no idea how many times I parked my car in Hyde Park in the early morning and walked through massive iron gates into the Household Cavalry Barracks. It was certainly over several years.
In minutes I would be in the stables, breathing in the smell of horse, hay, leather and straw, listening to their soft breathing, snuffling, noisily ripping hay from their racks, or moving restlessly around in their boxes. A trooper would tell me which horse to exercise. Sometimes I saddled up, sometimes he did. There would be friends of mine there, privileged civilians like me, who had connections to the Household Brigade, and very soon we would ride out into the Park.
It was the 80’s. A special time. I had completed Insight I. Through Russell Bishop I had begun visiting AJ Clarke’s house, in Kensington, for weekly J-R seminars. Russell taught me to call in the Light, and I did regularly.
For a long time, Horse and Hound magazine carried a strapline on its cover, “The wind of heaven blows between a horse’s ears”. It definitely does! It was with pure joy. I rode those huge chargers. Most of them were softies, some pulled a bit, but just in case I always called in the light before hopping in the saddle.
The horses didn’t care what I knew, until they knew I cared. Those horses swiftly sussed us out. If you didn’t create understanding, they would bin you, swiftly canter back to the stables and do what they wanted to do. That is if no one caught them. Horses don’t see the world as we do, which is one reason they seek attunement. Love ‘em — they love you.
We have a 360’ visual field in which we live. It’s like a massive circle. Horses don’t, they see through a narrow horizontal band. They can’t see above or below, which is why they shy away from unexpected high flags and get spooked by low objects. It is also why they jump willingly through circles of fire. They can’t see the fire above and below, but they can see the fire at the sides and jump through, if asked.
Riding in Hyde Park was fun. What a privilege to be on gentle equine power instead of caged in the carbon-coughing buses and cars on the other side of the iron railings. Usually we cantered up Rotten Row, or maybe along the Serpentine. The whole park was our playground. The horses enjoyed their freedom and we enjoyed them. We avoided the dogs, cyclists, roller skaters and runners who also enjoyed early morning exercise. I never knew who I might ride with next: the Editor of Field magazine, or Horse and Hound, the Chief Commissioner of the Metropolitan Police, racehorse trainers, cavalry officers, or whether I would see, in long shot, Princess Diana being taught to ride by James Hewitt.
It wasn’t just about riding. The connection between those horses, their attunement to each other, was as intense as their connection, or lack of it, with us. It was that heart energetic which attracted me to horses when, as a teenager, I exercised National Hunt racehorses. I worked weekends as a stable lad, riding, grooming, escorting them proudly on race days, parading the horses I cared for in the ring and standing on the rails chewing my fingernails until they won, or didn’t.
There are so many stories about horse’s hearts, soul and bravery. Like when the IRA blew up a cavalry procession in Hyde Park killing seven horses and leaving one, Sefton, with 34 wounds. There is a statue commemorating him just inside the barrack walls, because he was brave and returned to duties. The Queen commented, “it was the worst day of my life.”
Once my mare, Banshee, made me care for another horse. One morning, as I entered her field she galloped up to me, screeching to a halt. She swung away, checked I followed, then led me to the wire fence separating her field from the next. A horse lay there tangled in the barbed wire. Banshee snorted and watched, as I called his owner on my mobile and with him laboriously untangled the horse. Once on his feet, wobbly but alive, Banshee tossed her head and trotted away. Job done!
Animals care. J-R told me they have spiritual lives too. Once in an Irish market, I watched a single cow bought and separated from the herd. She fought to stay, the others closed in bellowing, as an Irish lad pulled her out. She began to cry. Huge tears rolling down her cheeks as he dragged her away. I called in the Light.
Love, Soul, Spirit is all around us, reflected in every eye.
