The Wild Horses Encircled Us

The collage of everyone's one word takeaway after I led participants' in a shamanic journey to meet the wild horses.

This is the first of four stories I want to share about my time with the wild mustangs out west.  I am not a writer, but you will see that my writing is better than my photos. I never feel the need for the latest and greatest cell phone until I want better pictures. But, I was too immersed in the experience to take many photos anyway. I had my phone with me, but it was turned off and tucked away in my saddle bag most of the time. I write to remember. Otherwise, as time goes by I would think my memory was exaggerated. It is not.

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I acquainted myself with my new mount as he walked nose to tail fashion through the rabbitbrush and sage. It was warm already as the desert sun heated up the dusty ground. But, I was prepared. I brought a visor for my helmet and some light weight long sleeve blouses for our journey. It felt good to be on a horse; familiar as breathing to my body.

I was asked to co-facilitate a retreat that included the opportunity to track and see the wild horses in the seldom-visited Pizona area of the lnyo National Forest in eastern California and western Nevada. I didn’t know quite what to expect, but I was excited.

It was our first day, and we were making our way to our Pizona base camp. We had seen the wild horses in the distance at River Springs where we had saddled up. We already felt lucky. 210 wild mustangs had decided to come down from the highlands and hang out in a huge open meadow because there they were safe from mountain lions. Without high brush or trees or hills, they couldn’t be ambushed by the lion, and their many foals would be safe. Our guide, Ivana, told us that she would lead us near these horses, watching their body language to determine when and how we would ride through their land. Ivana has guided over 250 groups and has been riding through this area for 27 years. Apparently we would be able to get much closer than groups led by other guides. The wild horses know Ivana.

We were a new pack: the participants, a few facilitators, our wrangler, Issac, and our very special guide, Ivana. We hadn’t yet settled into a rhythm, and the energy of the group was a bit all over the place. But, the horses knew their job and kept everyone together. It didn’t take long to get to the wild ones, and suddenly the horses that were way in the distance were standing near. The wild horses had stopped eating as they witnessed our approach. There had been a somatic dialogue between Ivana and the horses, and she made our approach flowing, wavy, never pointing our horses’ noses to the wild ones, but moving us through their space as though to say that we are just passing by. As we worked our way closer to the wild herds, the flanks of our horses facing the wild ones, we let the horses graze whenever we stopped so that the wild horses would see that we were not a threat.

Now we were close. The energy of these 210 horses amped. With their heads high, nostrils open, and ears forward, many started to move toward us and around us. Cautious. Curious. Alert. Ready. It all seemed to happen so fast, and I don’t have the memory of details. Suddenly it felt as though we were in this whirl of energy and I could feel the horses’ wildness coursing through my body like a windstorm. The horses started to encircle us in order to move downwind to catch our scent. We were in the middle of 210 wild horses! Should we be concerned? I glanced down to witness my eight year old mount, whom Ivana told me spooks easily, happily grazing. If my mount is good, then I’m good. That was my last thought, and after that my only memory is a somatic one.

How do I describe the sensation that flowed through my body? My horse was quiet underneath me as my body practically shook with the massive wave of energy of these wild ones. I could feel their energy reverberating through my body. My mind couldn’t, and still can’t, process what was happening. My body felt broken open, and I found myself sobbing. Tears streaming down my face, feeling way more physical sensation and emotion than my mind could possibly comprehend. Maybe I was just overcome by the magnitude of such a magnificent experience. That would be glorious enough.

Or, maybe my cells were remembering what they once knew from eons ago. That some ancient part of me recognized the wild spirit of all these souls. Maybe my soul felt the longing to be them as I witnessed their freedom. Maybe my body was answering them with a playful buck and a rear and a gallop as my soul joined them in their untamed zest. Maybe the horses were helping me reclaim my own wild, beautiful nature.  

Or, maybe after five dark years the horses were reminding me that the world is still a beautiful place. That they were telling me to not hold back my light and my energy just because others are not ready. 

Maybe they were telling all of us that we are not “too much.” 

Maybe the wild horses broke me back open and took me home. Home to the wild, home to the land, home to my own heart.

From the wild,

Asha