Transparency brings everything inside your own being, eliminating the very concept of inside and outside.
Richard Rudd, Gene Keys
Being transparent is being honest, i.e., nothing to hide. The scientific definition of transparency goes deeper than even the sterling value of honesty. Transparency is a translucent substance made visible by light shining through from behind.
Richard Rudd, quoted above, puts forth the concept of our ever-evolving awareness being contained within the ultimate consciousness of “what is”. When our awareness becomes a clear mirror for this larger consciousness, we become transparent. We are without judgment, without prejudice, without fear, without agendas. We are intimately and honestly transparent….all the time. Our light shines through.
In my experience, our four-legged friends live with intimate transparency. They perhaps love us more unconditionally than we love each other. They accept us. They observe us. They study us in detail and respond appropriately. They effortlessly surf the waves of our emotions and actions. And they remain present with us within the context of the larger world.
Geronimo is young and has been “ridden” only a handful of times. I sit on him bareback while smothering him in praises, strokes and coos; it is a big, fun love fest, held safely within the corral. These few “riding sessions” have each lasted no more than a few minutes.
Last week, I spontaneously jumped onto his back as the herd was out in the far pasture. They continued to graze and walk harmoniously together and I was feeling smugly pleased with myself. Geronimo was a brilliant, multi-tasking guy. A wild mustang, with a person perched atop his back as he freely ranged with his buddies. A person without a saddle, bit or any “control”. It went very well, until he let me know he was done with our little exercise. His cues were subtle but crystal clear, and I felt them. It was time for me to slip off and let the magic of the moment marinate. I didn’t listen and pushed my agenda. He was transparent and I was not.
That little chap folded himself in half and
I unceremoniously limped up the hill to the corral to find them visibly upset from their escapade. Geronimo was alone against the railing, refusing to look at me. Traveler and Chief were standing uneasily together. It was obvious they felt something was “wrong”, and there were dire consequences to be paid.
Humming my favorite song, I walked over to Geronimo and placed hands gently on his shoulder. He tensed. Toning softly while stroking his twitching hide, I worked around to his forehead to massage away the fret and worry. He let out a blubbering sigh, lowering his head. I told him I had foolishly not listened to him, and even more importantly, had not listened to myself. The other two watched us with great interest. Everyone visibly relaxed. They do not miss a beat.
I did the customary “always get back on your horse routine” and sat bareback on Geronimo for a few moments, then hobbled down to the house to get a glass of cold chardonnay. Returning to watch the sunset, they circled around and pushed their dirt-encrusted noses into my plastic glass, snorting in surprise at buttery beverage. As crickets and songbirds chirped, a technicolored bruise was blooming on my left buttock. With my wine full of equine mucus, I experienced a slice of nirvana.
I am aware many traditional horse trainers will vehemently disagree with this softer approach, but it is powerful. Intimate transparency works with our herd, and they are fine representatives of their larger whole. Chief has indicated this esoteric approach works especially well with chardonnay as accompaniment and is requesting a regular, routine round of drinks for the evening equine table. Watching the light shining through the golden liquid makes us all feel transparent.