Category: Self help

A Good Horse is Never a Bad Colour

STOP PRESS UNTIL MAY 2022 ALL DONATIONS raised by this blog will go to the Veloo Foundation, feeding and education the children in Mongolia who would otherwise scratch for survival on the refuse tip in UB Mongolia. The link to donate is to be found here

http://www.veloofoundation.com/fran-mcnicol.html

“A good horse is never a bad colour”

There are many phrases threading through the English language handed down from the old days when horses were the main form of transport and we humans owed them our livelihoods and oftentimes our lives. This blog has mostly been pre-occupied with

“No Foot, No Horse”

but the BLM movement has dramatically leapt to the forefront of public awareness again at a time when I was a little lacking in inspiration for topics to write about and

“one should never look a gift horse in the mouth!”

That was a flippant link. But colour is a hard thing to write about, and flippancy has always been a sterling defence against the difficulties of existing as an outsider in an often monochrome world.

img_4849

and please excuse the use of the judgemental terms ‘good’ and ‘bad’- it’s a neat phrase and an old saying- let’s not argue those semantics today LOL

We don’t generally judge horses on their colour, although we do offer up some tired stereotypes as facts.

Gingers (chestnuts is the correct term in the equine glossary) are sensitive, twitchy, flighty, a bit mad- like Ginger the highly strung chestnut mare in Black Beauty, and similar to the many of the oft quoted stereotypes about human redheads. In less politically correct times there have even been scientific studies conducted in an effort to ascertain whether there is a real difference in the way redheads perceive pain, for example

Do redheads feel more pain?

I had a whole polo team of chestnut mares at one stage. They were all brilliantly unique. Horse people will mostly judge you on the quality of the horse you are sat on, rather than on your human attributes. I once nearly ran over Lady Vestey senior at a polo match; it was in the early days of the Innerwick team and I was on Francesca, Roger’s chunky, solid, dependable chestnut starter pony. We spun around and Lady V walked more or less into us so it wasn’t mine or Francesca’s fault. Lady V turned around quick as a flash and said “I’ve been squashed by much classier beasts than that”, looking down her nose at Francesca’s ample behind and perfect white feathers. Francesca certainly wasn’t a blood horse!

“The term bloodhorse dates back to 1615 as a term for a horse of good descent. Its usage spread in the 18th and 19th centuries to refer to the English Thoroughbred racehorse breed.

The name may derive from the idea of blood as pedigree or from the concept of hot-blooded and cold-blooded horses.

In an 1857 book Horse and Horsemanship, English author Henry William Herbert describes blood as “descent, through the American or English race-horse, from the oriental blood of the desert,” referring to the Arabian horses that were the ancestors of the Thoroughbred. In the same book, he contrasts the blood horse with the “cold-blooded cart horse.”

It was a funny day that- shortly after us nearly trampling our lady host, the Kiwi truck driver completely wedged the new artic sideways in the narrow gateway between two dry stone walls. Roger then tried to cheer us all up by taking us for a drink in the clubhouse but ‘staff’ weren’t allowed to drink at the bar. He bought a slab of beers and sat on the ramp drinking with us instead. A true gent our Roger.

Other horse associated observational myths- dark bays are the spooky one while greys tend to be calm. This is certainly true in my little herd. Paddy the dark bay always signals my presence first; maybe the other two see me and aren’t bothered but Paddy’s is the head that always goes up. Cal just keeps eating most days; he will possibly deign to flick an ear as an acknowledgement. And Cal has always been a pleasure to take out and about whereas with Paddy one could never relax for a moment. He can untie knots, break string, dismantle a trailer, flatten the picnic…all in the blink of an eye.

Horses are strangely attracted to other horses of the same colour. Cal is fascinated by the little grey mare on out yard, and was also very attached to Bliss when she lived with us. And horses are really freaked out by very tiny ponies if they haven’t met them before; similar but different. Donkeys too- the braying and the funny ears really alarm them.

So ‘people like us’ is not just a human phenomenon.

“People Like us”  Hashi Mohamed-  “what it takes to make it in modern Britain”

https://amzn.eu/3vCYlcC

I will say this now; I myself have never encountered overt racism directed at me amongst the horsey community. Horsey people love horses much more than people, look at horses, talk about horses, dream about horses. The people attached to the horses are mostly incidental. I recognise many of my horsey acquaintances by their horses first.

There was a classic line in a Dick Francis novel- the protagonist thought the crumpled photo that the groom was keeping in her wallet was of her dead boss, and that they must have been lovers. Of course the photo was of the horse, the boss just happened to be holding the rope!

But it is undeniably true that there aren’t many people of colour involved in equestrianism in the UK. Not so in America where most of the barn work is done by cheap manual labourers, therefore often by Mexicans. In the UK we tend to employ skilled grooms to do all the work including the hard manual labour, and mostly pay them a pittance to do so. Polo was an exception, hence my summer holidays spent sweating in the sunshine, messing about with fast cars and fast horses.

I can’t think of a single contemporary famous black equestrian athlete. Yet historically in the USA, Black jockeys were commonplace. They started out as slaves of course….

“On May 17, 1875, thousands of eager horse racing fans poured through the gates of Churchill Downs to get their first looks at Louisville’s sparkling new racetrack and cheer on the thoroughbreds in the featured race, the inaugural Kentucky Derby. Finely dressed gentlemen and ladies adorned in bright colors thronged the grandstand and hundreds of carriages filled the infield as the horses toed the line for the day’s second race. At the tap of a drum, fifteen horses thundered down the track. As excited shouts echoed across the oval, jockey Oliver Lewis spurred on his chestnut colt Aristides to a one-length victory in the fastest time ever recorded by a three-year-old horse.

That Lewis was a black man in the sport of horse racing was of little note. In fact, 13 of the 15 riders in that first Kentucky Derby were African-Americans. In the years following the Civil War, black jockeys dominated horse racing at a time when it was America’s most popular sport. African-American riders were the first black sports superstars in the United States, and they won 15 of the first 28 runnings of the Kentucky Derby.

For centuries, Southern plantation owners put slaves to work in their stables. Slaves cared for and raced their masters’ horses. They served as riders, grooms, and trainers and gained a keen horse sense from spending so much time in the stables. After emancipation, African-Americans continued to rule Southern race circuits while white immigrants from Ireland and England predominated in the North.”

In contemporary British life, access to horses is an expensive upper middle class pre-occupation in the cities, and an upper class pastime providing a working class source of employment out in the country. And rural Britain is still not an ethnically diverse community. I live out in the country. I can think of one black man, an Asian friend or two and a few diverse kids that I have encountered on horse back at 20 years of equestrian events in rural Cheshire and the surrounding countryside.

Where do most BAME communities live?

By contrast, my beloved NHS family is incredibly diverse, on the frontline at least

IMG_3430

although we are now getting called out for a shocking lack of BAME representation at higher levels

WhatsApp Image 2020-07-21 at 11.15.33

Having said that, I don’t declare as BAME- there isn’t a box that describes me so I refuse to engage in being inadequately or inaccurately pigeon holed.

If wishes were horses

It didn’t matter to me as a child that there were no brown horsey role models for me to look up to. I was obsessed with horses long before I even knew what the colour of my own skin was. I don’t remember not being obsessed with horses.

I was already reading pretty fluently aged 4 or 5, and my first books were the well known stories of silver Brumbies and chestnut Arabs. My first poem was about Thowra, Evleyn Mitchell’s brumby stallion. I didn’t know I was a brown person until someone shouted “Pakki” at me on the way to school; that was on the way to junior school in London so I must have been about 6 or 7 then.

When does a child realise he/she is brown?

At what age do kids realise skin colour is a thing?

IMG_9090

The Black Lives Matter slogan has been incredibly triggering for some people. Of course all individuals have their challenges, but it is fair to say that in most of the countries of the world, having black skin as well as being poor, female, alone, less than able bodied, will add a layer of complexity to the other challenges that you might face, not make your life easier.

I am lucky, I am very privileged. I’m a middle class, intellectually gifted, slightly brown woman with a first class education and a first class RP (posh) accent, tinged now with a tiny bit of North. I am able bodied, fit, and healthy. I count my blessings every day.

IMG_4786

Racism comes out of the funniest, darkest, subconscious corners. Most often it comes out as a stray comment, from a friend, directed at someone other, because of course your friends don’t include you in ‘that group’ they are talking about. Often the assumption of difference comes from other people of colour- I wrote a long rant many years ago about how much I hated the question “where do you come from?”, a question that is most often asked by well meaning others from elsewhere looking to find a connection.

And the reason I hated that question was because I did not have, and still do not have, a truly simple, assured answer. I am a child of globalisation; my mother is Singapore Eurasian but she left there when she was 20 to escape the benign but still politically oppressive regime. My uncle got jailed briefly for teaching history as it actually happened rather than the government sanctioned politically correct version, and the many siblings scattered around the Commonwealth after that episode. My Dad is from the Wirral, but he would say he is Scottish (by age old ancestry) and I was conceived in Sweden, then born in Germany, where I spent my formative years as an expat child of the European Space Agency, before we came “home” to London. We then spent a year living in France and I have always loved travelling in a way that enables me to live and work in a country not just visit. The place I have felt most viscerally connected to was the West Coast of Scotland, as would befit the McNicol heritage, but the Scots say you only truly belong to the place you were born in.

And yet fundamentally I am British through and through. No ignorant bigot can take that identity away from me. I was born and registered a British citizen. Both my parents are British citizens, Singapore was in the Commonwealth after all. My mother was brought up a full British citizen, in Singapore, educated in English at a convent school, leaving with A levels and perfect RP pronunciation and a weird attachment to British rituals like afternoon tea. I grew up in London, went to one of the top ten schools in the UK, sailed through a top notch British education and devoured all the reading and conditoning that goes with that. When we learned about the colonies, a risible few lines that came up mostly in English Literature rather than history, I thought of myself as one of the British colonial ladies, not one of the indigenous natives.

There is a fine balance between not talking about colour and talking about it too much- different experiences can separate us as well as connect us.
Note that I make a deliberate distinction between colour and race- because for me in my peculiar mix of experience and genetics the two are not connected at all.

So I find it very unsettling when people ask me where I am from, or if I will ever go back home, or where I learned to speak such perfect English, or where I got my lovely skin tone from. Because all of those questions threaten my sense of belonging, question my right to thrive here, in the country that I belong to by birthright, where I grew up, where I should be able to feel secure and at home, like most of you do.

And if the inability to deal with that question is my weakness, so be it. I have shared it with you now, so you can treat your friends, and the strangers that aren’t friends yet, with the empathy and respect that all humans deserve. And that respect doesn’t involve making preconceived judgements based on appearance, skin tone, level of ability, sexuality or any other protected characteristic.

Please read this link- unconscious bias is rife among the well meaning

Horses are simple, if not always easy. Horse sense intent, and connect with congruence and truth. Horses never say one thing and mean another. Horses read energy, and have no preconceptions. And that is why, to a horse at least, a good human can never be a bad colour.

Peace and love.

Thank you as always for reading. I truly appreciate each and every one of you. To those influencers who comment, share the site with friends or help to promote in any other way, I remain eternally grateful. To those supporters generous and able to offer funds, whether small or large, karma is finding its way back to you with a rainbow of horses and abundance beyond dreams. Thank you all for joining in the adventure.  

Like what you have read?

Nelipot Cottage is a Pay as you Feel Endeavour- if you have enjoyed reading this article and/or found it useful then please consider making a small donation towards ad-free hosting costs. Thank you

£2.00

A Regular Gratitude Practice

STOP PRESS UNTIL MAY 2022 ALL DONATIONS raised by this blog will go to the Veloo Foundation, feeding and education the children in Mongolia who would otherwise scratch for survival on the refuse tip in UB Mongolia. The link to donate is to be found here

http://www.veloofoundation.com/fran-mcnicol.html

 

Why is it so important to develop a robust and regular gratitude practice?

1- The average person has 12-60k thoughts/day.

2- 80% of those are negative.

3- 95% are exactly the same as the day before.

4- 85% of what we worry about never happens.

                   The National Science Foundation and Cornell University in the US:

For those of you who have followed Tim Ferriss – no fewer than 80% of the people he has interviewed in his podcast have a daily routine where they consciously practise gratitude.

The interviewees are a selection of billionaires, massively successful entrepreneurs / actors / musicians etc…

Tim Ferriss and his friends demonstrate that a daily meditation and gratitude practice is quite literally invaluable; it proactively overturns our innate tendency to negative self talk and redresses the balance.

being-grateful-improves-your-chances-of-success-studies-show

Gratitude is defined as the quality of being thankful; readiness to show appreciation for and to return kindness. 

A regular gratitude practice actually rewires our brain. Consciously finding things to be thankful for, no matter how bad the situation we find ourselves in, teaches us to recognise the positives in every situation. It develops resilience, and resilience better equips us to overcome psychological stressors.

The-science-behind-gratitude

Gratitude works both ways- a regular gratitude practice has been called

the open door to abundance

I use the “Five Minute Journal” app for my daily gratitude practise. It’s  quick and easy thing to do with the first cup of tea in the morning. It offers an inspirational quote, the facility to upload a photo for the day, and asks for 3 things you will do to make today great. It then has a space for affirmations, and an evening review section. I’m not quite so good at completing the evening review, but I do enjoy looking back at past entries and past affirmations. And yes, I know it’s been said before, but it is amazing how much can change in a life in a year. With proactive observation and the implementation of good self care habits.

It is as true of humans as it is of horses; we are either improving or deteriorating ourselves every day. We choose. You won’t be the same person in a year, you won’t be in the same head space….why not consciously choose better.

5-minute-daily-habit

Practising gratitude is not all about relentlessly chasing the positives in the face of death and despair. We can also acknowledge our dark times, and be grateful for the strength to cope with them.

In our darkest moments, it may be that the only thing we have to be thankful for is the strength to carry on.

The strange determination to keep breathing, no matter what.

One of my favourite quotes

“Men have died, and worms have eaten them, but not for love”

For me, this a reminder that every moment we live, every breath we take, is the result of a conscious choice.

8-ways-to-have-more-gratitude-every-day

Sometimes, in the dark times, my regular gratitude practice has involved simple thanks for every breath.

As my asthmatic friend pointed out, in response to the previous instalment,

Learning how to breathe

not everyone on this planet gets to take breathing for granted.

The ongoing environmental disaster in Australia is a stark example of this; the air was so heavily laden with ash and soot that the fire alarms were going off inside air conditioned buildings, causing people to be evacuated to stand outside in the even more acrid, smoke laden air they had been trying to escape from.

“All I need is the air that I breathe“

What can we do when the air itself becomes deadly?

The funny thing that if we just persist and endure, the sun will always comes out in the end.

The sun is always there, above the clouds. Just because the light is hidden doesn’t mean it doesn’t exist.

But we can’t ignore the clouds either.

Focussing on Positivity alone is toxic

At some point in our journey, be it towards wisdom, or enlightenment, or just plain sanity and functionality,  whether we are examining the contents of our own head, or our own navel, working out just what triggers which dread and what emotion lives with what feeling, we will have to deal with the night horrors too. We can’t just focus on the light, we have to deal with the shadows to find our way through to the light again.

To grow, to learn and to heal, we have to find a way to sit with our discomfort and take in the lessons.

What we will not look at, will not feel—in ourselves, or in the world—we cannot address.

We have to learn the importance of chasing our shadows, not just glance away from the painful and difficult parts of our apprenticeship. Like Le Guin’s Ged, chasing the shadow is the most important quest of our life, and the integration of our shadow being is the magic that makes us whole.

Thank you as always for reading. I truly appreciate each and every one of you. To those influencers who comment, share the site with friends or help to promote in any other way, I remain eternally grateful. To those supporters generous and able to offer funds, whether small or large, karma is finding its way back to you with a rainbow of horses and abundance beyond dreams. Thank you all for joining in the adventure.  

 
img_4066

nelipot-cottage

Nelipot Cottage is a Pay as you Feel Endeavour- if you have enjoyed reading this article and/or found it useful then please consider making a small donation towards ad-free hosting costs. Thank you

£2.50

Learning how to Breathe…properly

STOP PRESS UNTIL MAY 2022 ALL DONATIONS raised by this blog will go to the Veloo Foundation, feeding and education the children in Mongolia who would otherwise scratch for survival on the refuse tip in UB Mongolia. The link to donate is to be found here

http://www.veloofoundation.com/fran-mcnicol.html

We all know how to do it, right? We all breathe, all day, every day and every night. Taking a breath is the first thing we do as our physical bodies arrive into this world, and the last thing we will do before we leave it. So why are so many of us so bad at breathing? Why are you even bothering to read this article, about learning how to breathe…properly?

Learning how to breathe… properly, is the first practical step to living-in-the-here-and-now

Learning how to breathe…properly, is the first step in the mindfulness practice that will help to free your mind from the emotions and dramas your body creates.

img_3806

What Is Mindfulness?

“Mindfulness is the practice of becoming aware of one’s present-moment experience with compassion and openness as a basis for wise action.”

“Mindfulness means maintaining a moment-by-moment awareness of our thoughts, feelings, bodily sensations, and surrounding environment, through a gentle, nurturing lens.

Mindfulness also involves acceptance, meaning that we pay attention to our thoughts and feelings without judging them—without believing, for instance, that there’s a “right” or “wrong” way to think or feel in a given moment. When we practice mindfulness, our thoughts tune into what we’re sensing in the present moment rather than rehashing the past or imagining the future.”

img_2144

It’s really hard to do most sports or tricky activities without learning how to breathe…properly. Learning to breathe…properly, in the rhythm or technique specific to that activity is part of the technical challenge that leads to excellence. For example, the very precise breathing rhythm associated with a good front crawl, with choral singing, with long distance running, or with playing a wind instrument. There are more advanced techniques such as circular breathing techniques, for a didjeridoo, or the breathing without moving that I demand from a good laparoscopic camera person!

 

No one ever taught me to breathe properly while I am operating- it took me years to realise that I hold my breath for tricky bits of adhesiolysis, and brace my left knee for hours. I am now so used to holding my breath when I concentrate that it is usually the pain in my knee that brings me back to reality, not the gentle gasping for oxygen associated with prolonged low level hypoxia….

My horsey friends will all joke that we hold our breath for the show jumping element of eventing. 9 fences, about 45 seconds, it is easy to allow our breathing to get tight and shallow due to nerves. Not quite so easy to manage a full 5 minute cross country course without taking a proper breath…talking to the pony helps there.

rocky pic 1

 

It is impossible to develop a meditation practise without breathing well. The first part of learning to meditate is learning to focus on the breath.

Why meditate?

For me, the hardest part of learning to meditate was learning to breathe…properly

Breathe in deeply. Let the air gently fill your lungs. Pause, then release. Feel the tension in your shoulders drift away. Inhale again, then exhale… yeah….right…..

The more I thought about my breathing pattern, the more erratic and evasive a good deep breath became. I play a wind instrument, so I’m really good at controlled breathing out, but bizarrely not so good at slow breathing in; in breaths were a short sharp gasp (get as much in as you can) for the next complicated passage of notes.

Yoga helped a bit, as did Pilates. In class, I am always the dork at the back, out of sequence, out of balance and out of breath.

As with everything else, meditation skills improve with practise. I set my alarm for 7 minutes at first, which felt like an eternity after 2, and I just sat on my mat, not quite Vaipassana Lotus style, because my hips don’t go there yet, but cross legged with upwards facing palms.

img_0362
Cal is great at meditating

I have to really count my breathing, like a metronome- in for 3, hold for 3, out for 3, hold for 3, etc etc. I can do a relatively slow count of 3 consistently. I can do 5s for a bit but I can’t sustain that pattern easily enough to let the clock tick down. Counts of 3 allow me to get into a theta brain wave pattern.

Theta brain waves explained

As wit many other skills, the important thing initially is just to do the practise, in a state of mind that doesn’t care about the result. Some days it can feel like I am just going through the motions, or even going through my to do list. In the beginning I used to get so impatient I would have to peak at the clock and then be disgusted to find that only two minutes had passed.

And then gradually something strange started to happen. The alarm going off would take me by surprise. I would feel like I had nodded off, but I knew I hadn’t really been asleep. I would drift back into my body to find myself completely relaxed, in lotus position! Turns out I was getting good at this mediation thing!

Signs you went into meditation

And then one day driving to work I felt myself experience such profound joy that I wanted to sing out to the world. It’s hard to explain pure joy. It’s not justa mood. It’s not an “I feel happy”. It’s not laughter, or smiles, it’s not a “body feeling good” after a brisk walk in the fresh air. It’s a profound upswelling of well being that has no basis in the experience of that day so far. It comes from nowhere, yet totally changes the light of the day.

rocky pic 3

 

And that feeling of joy is why I now try to meditate every day.

Just try it…you might surprise yourselves.

And if nothing else, you will finally be learning how to breathe….properly, for which your horses can only be grateful.

Live in joy. in love,
Even among those who hate.

Live in joy, in health.
Even among the afflicted.

Live in joy, in peace,
Even among the troubled.

Look within. Be still.
Free from fear and attachment,
Know the sweet joy of the way.

—The Buddha, from the Dhammapada, Thomas Byrom, translator

Thank you as always for reading. I truly appreciate each and every one of you. To those influencers who comment, share the site with friends or help to promote in any other way, I remain eternally grateful. To those supporters generous and able to offer funds, whether small or large, karma is finding its way back to you with a rainbow of horses and abundance beyond dreams. Thank you all for joining in the adventure.


Living in the Here and Now

STOP PRESS UNTIL MAY 2022 ALL DONATIONS raised by this blog will go to the Veloo Foundation, feeding and education the children in Mongolia who would otherwise scratch for survival on the refuse tip in UB Mongolia. The link to donate is to be found here

http://www.veloofoundation.com/fran-mcnicol.html

“There are only two days in the year that nothing can be done. One is called Yesterday and the other is called Tomorrow. Today is the right day to Love, Believe, Do and mostly Live.”

I have been reading Eckart Tolle’s The Power of Now.  I have to say it is the slowest read of a book I haven’t yet given up on. This is because the concepts are completely foreign to the control freak, overthinking part of me. Due to a fear of loss of security in my life, I have always tried to micro manage every moment. I have lived nearly every minute either ahead of or behind myself, wallowing in the paralysis of  “what if?” or agonising about “How do I prevent that? What can I do that will stop that happening?”

Living in the here and now is a strange and alien concept.

https://www.wanderlustworker.com/how-to-be-present-the-5-steps-for-living-in-the-here-and-now/

That micro managed place where we are avoiding excess discomfort can become a place of limitation and challenge avoidance. It doesn’t necessarily prevent high performance. That’s a relative concept. But it does limit potential peak performance.

I love high adrenaline activities. But drip feed adrenaline…not the dare devil activities where you completely surrender control but those where you saunter along the knife edge proving how controlled you can be, choosing the move, every next minute…..until you really aren’t in control at all, and you finally have to deal with living in the here and and now.

As Mark Twain said, “I have known a great many troubles, but most of them never happened.”

We cannot change the past, and we cannot prevent the future. All we can do is make the most of the present moment, informed by the past, and a series of best present moments will then build up to become a brighter future…if we are careful enough to wish it so.

Our wishes will come true…whether we like it or not.

Change is inevitable- be careful what you wish for

top ten tips to start living in the here and now

The big horse has challenged me in ways I would never have thought possible. I love riding, I love horses, I ride because I breathe. Ever since I was a tiny child I have dreamed of having my own horses and riding them every day, of schooling them from scratch, of transforming them from clumsy awkward novices to beautiful, elastic, supple unicorns. I have never been without horses to ride, never been in a situation where I wasn’t rushing home from work to get an extra session in, rain or hail or shine.

Imagine then having to psych yourself up to get on the big horse. Imagine having to talk yourself into doing the very thing that has always brought you joy. Imagine driving home  from work on a windy evening, making excuses in your head, thinking “Oh, I might leave it today, it’s a bit windy, he might be a bit naughty, maybe I’d better not tempt fate…” we say it for a gale first of all, then a blustery day, then a light breeze…until

Suddenly happens over a long time

suddenly, we never seem to get on our horse.

On those days of doubt and fears maybe we need to square up to our gremlins and ask ourselves

What is the worst thing that can happen?

and then we need to JFDI (medic speak for Just F*cking Do It)

Fear setting was a new concept to me until last year.

We are taught goal setting from an early age. Positive thinking is important. But if we ignore the darkness, if we ignore the abyss of fear and dread, it will bite us at the most inopportune moments.

Fear setting was a key part of the process that enabled me to leave my previous “dream life”. I asked myself “what’s the worst thing that could happen?” It turned out that staying unhappy was a much greater than stepping out into the unknown.

Positive thinking increases the likelihood of positive outcomes. But when the outcome is not so positive, how we cope with that eventuality is the space where we learn resilience.

Resilience is the ability to be happy, successful, etc. again after something difficult or bad has happened

Put simply, when facing a new challenge, what is the worst thing that can happen to you?

For a few months, I found myself avoiding new situations with the big horse. He is incredibly athletic, and has possibly put me on the floor more times than all the others combined! But I know this; I never yet get on him without a body protector, and a hard hat, and I know now that he needs regular, strenuous, work…like a stroppy teenager, he is better behaved when well exercised. I was avoiding challenging, stretch zone situations, keeping us within our narrow comfort zone, which meant that our comfort zone never expanded and we never got into our learning zone.

43cfce36-1e87-4d8d-8bfe-018a92d8ffbb.jpg

I asked myself “what is the worst thing that could happen”? Answer in my head turned out to be that he could ditch me in front of a load of strangers… well guess what? He’s done that loads!! We got the shiniest poshest rosette of my equestrian life for the most spectacular dismount, at riding club camp last year. That worst case scenario has already happened, so nothing left to be afraid of there….

img_3770-2

So what else am I afraid of? What else might happen?

You never know- it could go really well…Like our jumping lesson tonight. Yes there were shenanigans. Yes we made mistakes. Yes he tested me. But the outcome??? I stayed in the plate (hurrah) and he came on in leaps and bounds, literally. I learned that I have to turn on a forwards feeling,  without pulling the inside rein, (finally that lesson went in).

We just have to turn up, daily, and do the thing. We just have to believe that learning occurs in the stretch zone, for human and horse, and that although it may not always be pretty, it’s only by doing too much that we learn what is enough. We have to believe in ourselves, to be willing to expand our skill set but also to forgive ourselves and learn from our mistakes. We have to be non judgemental about our mistakes, observe them with wry amusement and do differently next time.

Differently, not better. Better is a judgement. And above all, we have to keep showing up, living in the here and now.

“Over the course of our lives, situations will arise that can sometimes seem insurmountable. When I’m faced with obstacles and life seems really difficult, my unconditional love for myself gives me the strength to continue. I greet the ups and downs of life’s journey with unconditional love for myself and the people in my life by understanding that I am only truly alive in the present moment; the future is a projection that does not yet exist. As long as there is life, everything is possible. Practice with awareness, remember to love yourself and others unconditionally when the road gets tough. Only through love can you overcome obstacles with peace.”

– Miguel Ruiz Jr.

img_1729

“Perhaps our dreams are there to be broken, and our plans are there to crumble, and our tomorrows are there to dissolve into todays, and perhaps all of this is all a giant invitation to wake up from the dream of separation, to awaken from the mirage of control, and embrace whole-heartedly what is present. Perhaps it is all a call to compassion, to a deep embrace of this universe in all its bliss and pain and bitter-sweet glory. Perhaps we were never really in control of our lives, and perhaps we are constantly invited to remember this, since we constantly forget it. Perhaps suffering is not the enemy at all, and at its core, there is a first-hand, real-time lesson we must all learn, if we are to be truly human, and truly divine. Perhaps breakdown always contains breakthrough. Perhaps suffering is simply a right of passage, not a test or a punishment, nor a signpost to something in the future or past, but a direct pointer to the mystery of existence itself, here and now. Perhaps life cannot go ‘wrong’ at all.”

Jeff Foster

Thank you as always for reading. I truly appreciate each and every one of you. To those influencers who comment, share the site with friends or help to promote in any other way, I remain eternally grateful. To those supporters generous and able to offer funds, whether small or large, karma is finding its way back to you with a rainbow of horses and abundance beyond dreams. Thank you all for joining in the adventure. 

nelipot-cottage

Nelipot Cottage is a Pay as you Feel Endeavour- if you have enjoyed reading this article and/or found it useful then please consider making a small donation towards ad-free hosting costs. Thank you

£2.50

In the Spaces in Between

You will have heard this before- the magic is in the transition. Or to put it simply- the magic can only occur in the spaces in between….things……

This is especially true in music; a melody is only truly heard because there is silence between the notes. My main instrument has always been the Baroque recorder. Towards the end of school, when I was practising for recitals, I did 2-3 hours practise a day. Being an enterprising teenager, I used to do a couple of those hours at the bottom of the staircase in Covent Garden tube station; the acoustics were fantastically suited to my beautiful Mollenhauer boxwood treble and the Opera House crowd were educated, appreciative, and generous. I used to make £60 an hour, for work I would need to do anyway; easy money compared to a pub shift dodging bikers in the wine bar in East Finchley.

I still love the formality of Baroque tradition- there is no slurring in Baroque wind music, only a soft or a hard tongue, TKTKTK for the solos, slurring of notes came later in history, popularised in the romanticism of the Renaissance construct and only when the greater clarity was made technically possible by the advent of the modern flute.

The true magic of the melancholy Baroque lament is heard in the spaces between the notes.

This is a universal principle- if we want amazing things to happen, we have to allow room in our lives for the new thing to occur. Or we need to take action to open up a space where there previously there was none.

Making space for the change to occur is the key to giving ourselves permission on the deepest level for that thing to be possible. Or in PD psychobabble speak; we are taking positive action to remove those subconscious blocks.

Examples of this are clearing out the garage for the arrival of new car, jettisoning clothes that belong to an old version of you, de-cluttering unnecessary possessions ready for a move, or making space in your bedroom for the partner you might be seeking.

Insanity is repeating the same action over and over again and expecting a different outcome.

Those of you who know me personally will know that this has been a year of radical change for team McNelipot!

I’m still feeling my way towards a new future- some goals have changed, others are now completely irrelevant within the new paradigm.

And countless others are still to be categorised…or realised…..

To find a new path we must first open ourselves up to new possibilities.

I’m getting better at that! Although I still find myself making some decisions from a place of fear.

So I have been reading about the art of making conscious decisions.

Choice is part of the magical process that converts our thoughts into reality, and our energies into occurrences. Every single choice we make can either be made from a place of fear or from a place of  power- and thus every choice will either lead to expansion or constriction, to freedom or captivity, to creation or destruction.

We are offered 35000 choices  a day, apparently. Unless we practise the art of conscious decision making, our learned patterns of response and our self limiting beliefs will keep us making the choices that limit us to our safe, familiar, comfortable lives, all while we complain that it is circumstance which conspires to keep us trapped in our humdrum routine.

Many of the choices I have made in my life, some for an easy life, some for academic efficiency and many as the pathological people pleaser, have actually led to constriction not expansion. In seeking to preserve comfort in my existence, or to stick to the safe, better known path, I have inadvertently been saying no to wider opportunities.

Some of my drivers are emotional safety, keeping control of my destiny, fear of losing my self sufficiency, fear of loss, fear of change.

My positive drivers are a love of learning, a love of new experiences, a need to learn new skills. Some contradictions there!

Now I am obviously a pretty high achiever, in my career, in my chosen sports, in my hobbies, so in many measurable terms, this manner of making choices has not limited my more tangible achievements, such as income, career, holidays, routes ticked, adventures. But is has limited many of the ancillary experiences I might have had along the way. I have missed side turnings and detours that might have led to magic.

It’s not so much what we choose that becomes important, but exactly how we made that choice, that will determine the energetic outcome.

What are the motivations that made us choose the thing we did?

A simple spotlight question- Did that decision come from a place of power or a place of fear? 

A useful test question- rather than goal setting, have you tried fear setting? What is actually the worst thing that could happen?

Am I choosing consciously or I am blindly repeating an old and familiar pattern?

What would it take to make a different type of choice?

How could I make this decision from a place of power not a place of fear?

Our beliefs about ourselves and our own capabilities, as well as our construct of the world, will determine our possibilities, and our limits.

Our beliefs shape our choices, our choices affect our actions, and our actions determine our outcomes. This is true at every level and in every aspect of life.

Those of you who know me and Cal will know that the grey horse has occupied a huge place in my heart ever since he arrived, the pink roan pony from Ireland that broke his knee after a few months and yet still came good. The emotional investment in a much loved horse is huge, especially one that regularly finds new and imaginative ailments on which to expend your time, energy and money.

Rocky, although much loved asa personality, has always been second string both in his training and energy invested. This was entirely appropriate when he was a youngster out in the field, or just starting in light work. But he will be rising 8 in spring, and now he really does need to learn his job, and grow into those very posh genes.

I’m beginning to realise I am probably a serial monogamist where horses are concerned. Polo grooming a string of 7 didn’t count because none of them were actually mine.

So when the opportunity came recently for Cal to go on loan for the winter, to a trusted friend, although I dreaded the thought of being without him, although my first reaction was “you must be crazy”, deep down, I absolutely knew it made sense. Allowing him to go away for a bit has instantly made mental head space and physical time for Rocky. This has meant that on the cold dark days when work has been tough, there is no juggling act, just a clear, clean choice….what do I do with Rocky today?

Only in Cal’s absence will Rocky get my full attention and the emotional investment that the not so young youngster needs at this stage to turn him into an upstanding citizen and fantastic riding horse.

Rocky’s real name is Royal Magic….let’s see what magic shows up.

And watch out world- opening doors with conscious positive intent becomes a habit….

 

Please consider making a donation

I truly appreciate you taking the time to explore my work. If you have enjoyed what you have read and feel it is an endeavour worth supporting then please make a small donation to allow me to continue with ad free hosting and buy the odd carrot for the boys.

£2.00

I deserve to be…..

I deserve to be….happy…fulfilled….loved….adored…treated with respect….fill in your own word in the space.

Or, as I was challenged to today, just look at those four little words on their own and say them out loud….

I deserve to be…

or simply

I deserve to be me

How does that make you feel? Can you honestly say you feel completely comfortable saying those words out loud?

I know I don’t always. 

Do I deserve to be up on stage sharing my story with 1000 people at our company’s annual event? Why would they be interested in my story? There are so many in that room who are “better” at the business than me, further along, have bigger teams, have gathered more clients, are making more money, helping more people, why would they want to hear from me?

Yet that’s where I was today, up on stage, with new friends, sharing our stories. And from the kind and warm reception we got, and the number of folk who sought me out afterwards to have a chat and say thanks for sharing, I know that I helped them by sharing my story.

But do I believe that I deserve to be there? I’m still not sure…

Our wishes command our reality; it is up to us to ensure that we build our best possible dreams and not our worst nightmare.

I have only recently realised the importance of this simple statement.

Whatever you say to yourself will become the truth; whether you realise it or not.

That is simultaneously immensely exciting and immensely terrifying.

I was pondering away in the car on the way home. I have a half written book, partly in my head, partly on a lost pen drive (please bring that USB stick back to me somehow, universe), and partly re written on my laptop. I started the book in 2008: I had just written a 60,000 word thesis and so thought a book was about the same number of words but might be more fun, and possibly more lucrative. It’s a love story, based in the eccentric world of polo, drawn from the grooming jobs worked over university summer holidays, enjoying crazy ponies, fast cars, and furious fun.

I wrote the bulk of the book when I was on call at a small district general hospital- we did whole 3 day weekends but nothing ever happened. Being on call was a bit like I imagine prison: unlimited hot water, regular meals, satellite TV, a small square stuffy room and hours of inactivity. The devil makes work for idle hands…..I had a lovely pen pal who helped me while away the hours and encouraged me to write.

But in retrospect, the book was going to tell the classic lie we are all sold as girls…the tall, dark, powerful, handsome stranger is abrupt, unavailable and yet charismatic and alluring. It’s all drama and angst and passion and fury. Somehow he is won over, and despite his hardened exterior, turns out to have a heart that can be redeemed by the selfless love of the heroine. She blossoms, safe and cherished and protected and possessed. 

It’s a bullshit ending, to a bullshit story. I didn’t finish writing the book but I did have a damned good go at living it.

To the casual observer, I had it all. A great career as a consultant surgeon, a gorgeous house in the country, a fast car, and a handsome husband with whom I shared my two main passions, climbing and horse riding. All my dreams had come true.

The white half of the semi was my dream home

Except it turns out that I was missing some key details from my dreams. 

By the time I was aware of my surroundings as a child my parents were fighting, verbally and physically, quite bitterly. Soon after this my mother scooped me up and we left Germany to live in London. My father didn’t visit for months; I’m pretty sure she didn’t allow it. In the same way we instantly stopped talking German at home. I have struggled to learn German since, despite having a natural ear for every other language I have been exposed to, including the complexities of Hebrew. I’m sure there is a buried fear of speaking German left over from that transition time.

I somehow learned that I must cry for my father quietly and alone, because there would be reprisal rather than comfort. I went everywhere with my mother, out of necessity, but I learned to be quiet and well behaved, and to entertain myself. I learned to read almost as soon as I could talk, and books became my entertainment and my refuge.

As long as I had a book in my hand, I was entirely self reliant, self sufficient and utterly self contained.

My mother provided for my physical and educational needs; I never wanted for the basics- clothes, food or shelter, and was treated to the full Renaissance range of extra curricular activities, school sports, music lessons, judo, basketball, figure skating. I wasn’t allowed to watch seditious TV programmes like Grange Hill, go out to parties or to meet any boys.

I was never told I was loved, never told that I was precious. I don’t remember hugs or cuddles. When I achieved a grade, or passed a test, the focus was always on the missing points, not the success.

And there was a lot of anger under the surface, pure rage, simmering away. 

Little wonder I left as soon as I could. I went to Israel and Australia for a gap year, working with polo ponies, and then to St Andrews for university. And did my best never to go ‘home’. As a junior doctor I worked every single Christmas, and partied wildly every New Year.

Music is the answer

And I had a disastrous time with boys/men. I had no idea how to stand in my own power, build a relationship, no idea that love wasn’t actually meant to be transactional. 

I didn’t love myself. No one had ever showed me what love looked like, so I couldn’t love myself either. I smoked from my teens all the way through to my 40s; every single cigarette I lit was a metaphorical middle finger to my mother’s ultra controlling sanctimony.

When you have no close family, your friends become your life support system. Medicine and especially surgery, is a tough life; it’s impossible to explain to those who aren’t living it how it feels when the ultimate responsibility weighs heavy. I do have fabulous friends; loyal, fierce and honest.

Now don’t get me wrong- I know I’m lucky. I’m slim, fit, strong, incredibly bright, I read about 300 words a minute, I have a great memory and can multi task like a fiend. I have a high threshold for pain, and fear, and like many cortisol babies, I thrive on adrenaline. I have good hand eye coordination and learn fine motor skills quickly.

I know all these things. But I know them as facts. They are not feelings. I don’t feel special. I don’t feel like I deserve to be loved.

The marriage didn’t stand a chance really. If I didn’t love myself, didn’t feel like I deserved to be loved, how could I accept love from anyone else? Let alone find anything remotely resembling healthy, nurturing love.

I picked the dark, handsome, brooding charismatic stranger. Like in the stupid fairytales.

Yes I picked him….based on all the wrong criteria but I picked him. That’s another piece of work.

I did what I thought was love- I made a home, I provided, I cooked and organised and made life run smoothly. I throw the most amazing parties (just take the most eclectic mix of people you can think of and add plenty of food and alcohol). And we had lots of adventures, through climbing. 

And I remained positive, upbeat, independent and self sufficient emotionally, for a long time. Until I was nearly broken.

I didn’t feel the need to address my doubts and fears.  Previously I had always dealt with them on my own, or with my friends. Dealt with or mostly buried, ignored, brushed aside. I actively avoided any self knowledge or contemplation. While my cousin was espousing the benefits of Vaipassana, I knew very clearly that I was not ready to tackle the contents of my head.

I did share them though. Share them!!! I wear them on my sleeve, even now, I’m sure. The predators who are tuned in to this stuff can spot the damaged human a mile off. And actively seek us out, the cortisol babies. Naively I didn’t realise that these wounds I hadn’t dealt with could be weaponised against me. But I was so very good at living a full and happy life as long as I didn’t look too deep under the surface.

Because I am so naturally positive, and a pathological people pleaser, it took me a long time to realise that my wide open world was gradually being curtailed. Once I got better and stronger at climbing, got up a few good hard routes, even some he hadn’t done, suddenly we stopped lead and trad climbing (my forte) and seemed to do a lot more bouldering (his speciality, my weakness). This did nothing for my confidence and fitness, and meant that when I did manage to persuade him to tie onto a rope for me to lead something, we then had a disastrous day. I tried climbing with other people, but then got shit for not spending time with him.

The Chere Couloir followed by the Vallee Blanche- my best ever days on the hill. He wasn’t there.

He learned to ride, team chased and loved farm rides, but once his foray into OTTTB rehab failed and he realised getting good at the foundational stuff really isn’t easy, he stopped helping and supporting me with my horses. I then had to do nearly all of the husbandry, organise all the management, and do most of the riding. If I was competing I went eventing on my own, which was actually much less stressful, but the amount of time horses require was all time that we were not spending together.

He was actually the one to sign us up to this fabulous network marketing business, but like other new hobbies, once the shine wore off, he stopped trying, and was pretty negative, to put me off and stop me succeeding at it.

I’m a completer-finisher, so I carried on, with the horses, and with the business. 

I was never not ‘allowed’ to go out and have fun with the doctor crowd, or with other friends, but I got so much shit the next day that it became easier not to go. He wouldn’t come out with me, citing boredom with medic talk or girls chat, but would make sure that all the fun was sucked out of the event post haste. If we went away climbing for the weekend, he would chat to everyone else in the pub except me. Ignored, instead of cherished, rejected instead of wanted.

I went on expedition to Mongolia as a medic, and was welcomed back with a cold shoulder and barely afforded any airtime in company when friends dared to ask about my amazing experiences upon my return.

And my response to this gradual diminution was to try harder, to be the perfect wife, to selflessly predict and fulfil all his needs, because I thought I loved him and because that’s what girls should do. Even kick ass consultant surgeon girls with a high flying career and a punishing on call rota should still look after their house and their man. And because if I didn’t do it, it just didn’t occur.

It all started to take a toll. I was spinning plates, treading water, just about keeping it all together. I was barely coping. I didn’t notice I was unhappy. It takes a lot to wear me down. Work wasn’t as much fun, the immersive meditation of operating became stressful, competing the horses wasn’t as rewarding, I wasn’t pushing myself physically or mentally, I wasn’t stretching myself. I was constantly feeling a vague background fear!

Looking back now I cannot believe how close I was to crumbling.

It all sounds very indulgent. I know I lead a privileged life. I have worked really hard to create that life.

It’s really hard to put the feelings into words. It’s really hard to explain; the attrition was very subtle. I wasn’t physically abused. But neglect and emotional abuse cuts pretty deep too. I still don’t quite understand how I allowed it to happen for so long.

It’s like the volume of my song was being gradually turned down.

 

img_1315.jpg

I wake up every day smiling. I smile as easily as I breathe, and you have to work quite hard to wipe that smile off my face. I love my work (mostly), and my dog, and my horses, and I absolutely loved where we lived. I had enough good stuff going on in my life to keep me happy, and I knew that no one else had the power to control my mood. Influence it strongly maybe; I am an empath it would seem, but I knew, even back then, that I could filter my thoughts and my reactions.

I can allow myself to be unhappy, fearful, anxious….but no one else can do that to me.

That’s a kind of power.

One day I had an epiphany. It was literally like a fluourescent light flicking on and illuminating the room. He kept pouring me wine while we had a “chat” about our relationship; which basically involved him talking. There never were any spaces for me to speak in. I had allowed him to completely silence my voice.

He looked me straight in the eyes to gauge my reaction and said that we should never have got married, that he didn’t love me anymore and that he wanted to be on his own.

The next day he denied that conversation had ever taken place, but I will never forget the look in his eyes. It was so cold. He knew exactly what he was saying. I realised in that moment that it wasn’t up to me to make him happy. No matter how hard I tried, him being happy was nothing to do with what I might do or not do. And I realised that no mater what I did, it would never be good enough. And that he would destroy me if I allowed him to.

I left two weeks later. Flitting with 3 horses, a dog and a cat to a secret location took a little work. 

Now all I need to learn to do is recover. The further I get from the situation, the more clearly I see how close I came to a breakdown. I have been immeasurably better every day since I left. The lack wasn’t in me. Although I was complicit in allowing him to hold that power over me.

I am turning back into my old self,  happy, self sufficient, shining bright. I have a lot of work to do to make sure the compulsion to repeat doesn’t get me again. I need to learn to truly believe in my self worth, and to listen to myself closely enough to make sure I feed myself the good positive self talk.

And I finally just need to crack on and do the deep work to make sure that I love myself enough to make only good choices for myself. And then the next guy that I might fall for can be someone who loves me for the good strong bits, not a narc looking to take advantage of the old buried wounds.

But actually, mostly, what I need to do is learn to stand in my own power. The rest may or may not follow….

I deserve to be……me.

I deserve to be the best possible version of me.

And I deserve to spend the time to work on that best possible version of me, every day.

“When I let go of what I am, I become what I might be”

This article is the best other description I have found of my previous situations

https://www.elephantjournal.com/2019/06/the-unexpected-reason-wonderful-women-find-themselves-in-horrible-relationships/

Dedicated to all the Charles Angels- thank you for inspiring me.

June 2019

 

Like what you’ve read?

Nelipot Cottage is a Pay as you Feel Endeavour- if you have enjoyed reading this article and/or found it useful then please consider making a small donation towards ad-free hosting costs. Thank you

£1.50

What is your Purpose?

“What is your purpose?” 

Such a simple and yet such a huge question. We had a visitor last weekend; Alison Delaney of Little Bird

http://www.littlebird.org.uk/

Alison is one of the most inspirational ladies I know. Her passion is helping people to fulfill their dreams. She also loves horses and dogs and so it was an absolute joy to be able to pay it forward by inviting her for a day out riding my beautiful grey horse in our fabulous forest. 

  
Alison’s great gift is making all sorts of different people feel amazing about themselves. Her deceptively simple question gets right to the heart of the matter.

So here goes 

1) to leave people, places and horses better than we found them.

  

  

  
2) to provide an environment for the horses where they can live as natural a life as possible where all their needs are met #friendsforagefreedom

  

  
3) to train classically and correctly in a manner that puts the horse first, maximises his longevity, health and potential. To train from the beginning as if everything is possible, and to preserve the horse’s spirit so it is a true partnership, dancing together.

  
4) to participate regularly in the full spectrum of equestrian activities: eventing, hunting, dressage, and show jumping, without compromising on the above ideals. 

  

5) to enjoy the journey and and to learn all the lessons presented by any challenges.

  

6) to become the complete equestrian, and therefore the complete human.

  
 

7) always a magic number: to freely give what we most desire.

What is your purpose?