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  • Rachel F

Where the Light Gets In

Those of you following us on social media have been with us as we've walked through a tumultuous and painful few months with our horses in particular. In December what appeared to be a "simple corneal abrasion" on Rasta's (Radagast the Brown) left eye turned out to be a wound so serious that we were faced with needing to remove the eye. Just a month later, Tom (Tom Bombadil) came up lame with what appeared to be an abscess. It was in fact an abscess, but it was also a symptom of chronic pathology in his front right foot that brought us close to humanely euthanizing him twice.



As we approach the spring equinox, I'm delighted to report that both of our horses are happily munching hay in the melting snow on the hillside. Rasta, through a miraculous healing, has full sight in both eyes, and Tom is adjusting to his new slow pace (which is not a hardship for him).


What has surfaced for me in walking this winter of injury and healing, activity and pause, movement and stillness, is the many ways that light comes in to my life, our lives, the life of this amazing earth. That the vulnerability, fear, and panic of an 1100 lb horse when faced with a tiny injection could also be the moment that four people come together on a hillside during a blizzard to focus their hearts and minds on creating a community of healing. That an ill-placed branch and a hyper-active pony could bring together a collection of healers and prayers from across the world to unite in a plea for wholeness and clear sight...which was then answered abundantly. Both of these realities were held alongside of the pain and fear that I had at the thought of losing Tom and Rasta this winter.


In the process of caring for Tom, a friend of mine came to see him and to offer some support. I was telling him about Tom's reaction to having vet work done and how much panic it caused him. My friend said to me (paraphrasing here) that it was my job to be the calm place that Tom needed in order to know that it was OK. It was my responsibility to help Tom to see that he would be alright, even if it was scary now. That moment of conversation shifted something in me. It never crossed my mind that my presence or intention could have such an impact on someone so much larger than myself. In that conversation, the crack in me that is my idea of my own smallness, was broken open to show that there was even power there. The power was there to create a space of calm alongside a 1100 lb whirlwind of emotion...and to show him that it really was OK.


It seems that in an accidental way, Leonard Cohen's lyric "where the light gets in" has become the theme of our season of lent here on the farm. This story, and the personal growth that happened as a part of it (and there is so much more learning which I didn't put into this post!) are just a sliver of the places where our hillside has experienced brokenness, which has acted as a prism for light. As we move through each day on our farm with Tom and Rasta in their own healing processes, we too are moving into our own healing. We are learning about those places in us that are broken, and that offer up a way that we can, from our woundedness, bring healing to the world. Thank you for walking with us today, and know that you are held in our prayers as you move in your own healing journey - leaning in to those places where the light shines through.



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