I walk up to Geronimo, our young Navajo mustang, expecting a warm welcome after being gone for a week. He watches me approach with my big smile and even bigger needs. Turning his back he walks away, stops, and while keeping one eye discreetly arched over his rump, maintains his distance. I pursue, but he keeps his few yards of space as we shuffle an awkward dance. Geronimo is giving me the cold shoulder and suggests I take a chill pill. He is young and uses irritating vernacular, making his eye-over-the-rump stance particularly provocative.


I’ve just returned from an intensive Scientists, Mystics and Sages conference in Albuquerque, and am on fire with enthusiasm and expansion. Infinite possibility resides in the quantum field of potential energy, and all this is available in a nanosecond of chosen awareness, yet I have already forgotten the baseline mantra: calm, center, breathe.

Our unseen, habitual energy is what equines read with aplomb. They insist on the real deal; the full enchilada of unity between heart and brain. I am needy and want an instant hit of recognition from Geronimo. Equines don’t operate this way. If there is no immediate danger, there is no rush. I am not embodying their fundamental cornerstone of communal confidence because I feel special…Look at me, I’m back, come surround me in adoration! My pleading emotional energy is ignored because it is entirely foreign to the herd. Their school of tough love does not understand such human ME-ism.

Chief, our badass mule, tells me I have a unique energetic blueprint, but am not more special than anyone else, equines inclusive. He says I need to manage my individual needs within the context of the whole, and taking things personally will only lead me down the path of depressive narcissism. Chief is starting to irritate me even more than Geronimo. These guys are spiritual/psychological drill instructors.


My Drill Instructors, exasperated with their student

Scientists and sages propose that we are 95% unseen, habitual energy. This is our subconscious running on auto-pilot, having been downloaded from our early cultural and familial environment to ensure our basic survival. If we understand this, we can free up our 95% unseen, habitual energy by changing this “program” via our aware 5% mind of choice. This takes tremendous awareness and discipline, but the excellent news is this skill lies dormant, and we can choose to wake up. Chief helps me with these existential grapplings because he is unwilling to please humans. On the contrary, one of my habitual programs is needing to please everyone, even my confounding, smart-ass mule mentor. Without mincing his words, Chief says my obsequious behavior is not saintly, and it is innately false. Ouch.

Now, I look at Geronimo’s defiant rump and laugh at myself. He returns to stand beside me, his breath warming my cheek as his muscular nose works at my loose shirt collar. I restrain myself from throwing my arms around his neck, as he does not endorse such embarrassingly emotional theatrics. Yet, the rush of energy I experience from his gentle acknowledgement is exponentially quantum.


Window to Geronimo’s soul

Chief says this quantum stuff is hypothetically manufactured from human “intellect” to explain the inexplicable. “Well, duh, Chief!”, I say to him in an attempt to regain my poise. Traveler, our elder mustang, stays out of the emotional~intellectual fray. Food, friends, and freedom are his only needs and he runs effortlessly in the (quantum) field with his buddies.

I’ve been lassoed by the herd energy, and am throwing my heart over the fence into their field, be it quantum or grass. They’ve been conspiring: literally “breathing together”, for me to enter, and I could not have more exacting guides.


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