Earth, Hearth, Home

           No, I didn’t say I was giving up my faith in my journal yesterday.  If Buddhism had worked for me then I would have remained a Buddhist.  After twenty years of practice I found that the simple act of surrendering to Christ was the act I needed.  Maybe that was the point of Buddhism as well, one simply “surrenders” to the life one has.  Somewhere though, in the mind-bending intellectual exercises of Buddhism, something gets lost, at least I got lost.  It simply put me too much in my head. Buddhism is much like psychology in that way.  One does simply have to find a place where one belongs and prosper there.  One also has to get out of one’s head and simply live.

        The other day I was asked to do some respite care.  Four years ago a young man who was under the care of a friend at the agency I worked at found out I was looking for a house.  He found this one for me and delivered the message through my friend and co-worker.  My colleague  moved on and is no longer this man’s therapist but he and I have remained acquaintances.  He is in his forties now and autistic and mildly “retarded” whatever that means.  His parents have asked me to watch over him while they go to Panama.  It is an honor to do so. This autistic young man was the unexpected angel who led me to my home, I will never forget his generosity of spirit. That this gentleman, a retired minister,  would trust me with his son is a personal validation in spite of the chaos and criticism of some in my profession here.  His trust affirms for me that I  have stayed true to my course, that I am trustworthy and professional. 

          Living here in Carlsbad has been a mixed bag.  I have found friendship unexpected as well as frustration and pain.

          Kathryn is beginning to find this small farm, this “finca” as they say in Spanish,  home as well.  It has been a year (yes, today is our anniversary) and this weekend we will finally have her house cleared out enough to turn over to the rental agent.  We meet the rental agent’s  cleaning crew today to find out what needs to be done to get the house finally ready. It has been a tough year for both of us.  Being older and blending lives while trying desperately to hold on to old habits has been maddening for both of us.  Add to that the drama and turmoil around us of those in the mental health field here and I wasn’t sure we would make it.  I am still struggling with Kathryn’s “football-itis.” I have always struggled with spectator sports and find the commercialism of TV team sports irritating.  I am sure I will make my peace with that as I have made my peace with cabinets that now seem over full.  It has taken time but is coming together.

          I have given long thought to what I should do next.  I have mixed feelings about the equine assisted therapy.  The man who has asked me to watch over his son became quiet interested when I told him what I was thinking and said that this town badly needed such a program.  He knows, as we all do, that the mental health center here in town has failed the town badly.

          For me, doing Equine-Assisted Psychotherapy is a fuzzy thing.  Is it really “therapy” or is it teaching people “horse training?” I know it is more than horse training but I will have to really change how I see what I do in order to do it.

          I badly want to step away form the role of “therapist.”  I am tired of people’s pain and broken-ness, tired of the stories piled upon stories of hurt.  There has to be more for people, I know that.  I know too  that people are tired of the jargon and the platitudes of psychotherapy.  I know too that the best therapy is doing something, being engaged in life. We all need life experiences of accomplishment, things that bring us joy.  This joy can and should come from a lot of things – Boy Scouts, participating in sports – the list is long.  I know too that active joy is missing from many lives.  I know too that an hour of “therapy” per week – the therapy of sitting in an office – can serve a purpose but it does not move people to the joy of mastery – any more than sitting in church for an hour a week.  Yet, I am as bad as the therapists I rail about.  I am trained in analytical office work.  To me therapy has always looked like the guy sitting in an office in his tweed jacket, surrounded by books and in the quiet sanctum of the office he helps people explore their depths.

          I tend to think that what I would really be doing is nothing more than teaching people ground work with horses.  I think I may as well be a horse trainer or riding instructor.  Yet, I know it would be more. 

          I know from my dreams that I have been spiritually moved on from the hermitage in the forest.  Spiritually I have crossed the desert and know that the role of therapist, of seeker leads to more.  I think often about the Herman Hesse book Siddhartha and how at the need of things Siddhartha becomes a ferryman on the river, carrying others to the shore, knowing that the place of his arrival is right where he is. I know that the same place comes from being a horseman, my ferry can be the work with horses.  The value of doing it from the journey of being a therapist would simply be that even if I am no more than a riding instructor – a horse-ground-work-training-instructor – the insurance companies and colleagues and whoever will provide a source of referrals of people who might never try this route.  Anyway, I am still thinking about what to do, the steps to take. I know that I would have to engage in a national horsemanship program of some sort to improve my own horse skills.  Finding one that is not a “cult” like Parelli could be tough. 

          Finally, the quote above is from a blog out of Cody, Wyoming, called, “At Home in Wyoming.”  She writes about how during an unexpected cold snap the green leaves of the non native trees fell all at once.  I have seen such a thing once as well, it is something to see.  She also makes the very good point that we must in some why find out place, our native place in the land and in our souls and there we will find home.  Home is where work is not work but life itself.  Home is where we all want to be – just like Dorothy.  I have more to say about Dorothy and home, but today I need to get moving and there is tomorrow as long as we have breath to give . .