Playing in Syria

Wild Mustangs

In June 2015 I left the church I had served for over five years to begin a mystical path, one I did not know where it would take me. As part of my discernment process, I went to Ghost Ranch that summer to spend a week with J. Philip Newell. 

A few weeks before I left, I met with dear friends Suzi Hales and Patti Gilmore.  Patti had stage 4 metastasized breast cancer.  She had seven months to live.  Since she had faced the coming of her own death, she became a deep spiritual presence in this life. I listened carefully to what she said.

When Patti learned I was going to Ghost Ranch, she told me I needed to go to the White Place and the Black Place, places near Ghost Ranch that Georgia O’Keefe painted. Patti arranged for a dear friend Matthew to be my guide. Matthew and his dog Mika met me at Ghost Ranch. The Black Place is a two-hour drive west of Ghost Ranch. 

            After we arrived at the Black Place, Matthew, Mika and I climbed up on top of the black mesa, black due to ancient volcanic rock. As we walked, we came upon saw five horses.  Matthew looked at me excitedly and whispered those are Wild Mustangs.  I asked him how he knew they were Wild Mustangs.  He replied, “Do you see any fences?”  I did not, only wide-open spaces.

            Matthew asked me if I had any peanuts.  I told him all I had was trail mix.  He said to give him some of the peanuts.  He placed them in his hand and began to walk toward the horses.  I held Mika, a dog that fortunately did not bark.  Matthew continued to move toward the horses, stopping occasionally to let them get comfortable with him.  Soon a young black horse, probably not a year old, started moving toward Matthew.  When it got about twenty yards away, a large brown Alpha male came between the black horse and Matthew and the Wild Mustangs wandered off.  Matthew came back, adrenaline rushing.  He said in all the times he had come to the Black Place he had never seen Wild Mustangs.

            Matthew asked me if I wanted to go to a prayer place he knew of.  I told him sure.  We hiked a pretty good way to a large round rock that jutted out from the edge of the mesa.  Matthew told me to go out and stay as long as I wanted.  He and Mika would wait for me under a cedar bush.  It was the middle of July and the sun was hot.

            I climbed out on the prayer rock and sat with my legs crossed in a prayer position, enjoying the beauty and stillness of the day.  Soon I got up on my knees, held my hands out and said, “Come Holy Spirit come.”  The wind, which had not been blowing, began to blow so hard it almost blew my baseball cap off.  Wow, I exclaimed. That was not my imagination.  This was real.

            I came off the prayer rock and found Matthew and Mika under the cedar bush.  I began to tell Matthew about a Christ experience I had recently.  Matthew began to stare at me and gently move his head back and forth.  I asked why he was staring at me that way.  He said, “a bluebird is trying to land on you.”  I glanced out of the corner of my eyes to the right and saw a bluebird.  When I turned my head to get a better view, it flew off.  I thought that was interesting and went back to my story.  Matthew began staring at me again and said, “it’s back.” This time I did not turn my head but simply glanced out of the corner of my eye.  There was a bluebird flying very close to my shoulder and head.  Finally I turned my head and the bird was gone.

            Matthew, Mika and I began the walk back to my car.  We had not walked too far when we came upon the five Wild Mustangs again. Matthew asked for more peanuts and he and the horses did the same dance again.  I held Mika, as Matthew slowly walked toward them.  Once he got within about twenty yards he stopped and the young black one came in toward him.  Soon the large Alpha male came between Matthew and the black one and the Wild Mustangs walked away.  What a day Matthew told me. I explained that I believed they were there for a reason.

            We continued our walk back to my car and soon we came upon the five Wild Mustangs again.  They were not leaving.  It is as though they wanted to be in our presence.  I decided that Matthew should not have all the fun, so I walked up towards the Wild Mustangs.  I am a dog person not a horse person but perhaps we could have a conversation. I had no peanuts because Matthew used them all.  As soon as I got within twenty yards of them, the Wild Mustangs began to run away in a single file line, in perfect step.  It was beautiful, like something out of a horse show. I decided that I must have spooked them, scared them off.

            Several months later I was sharing this story with some friends, Tom and Barbara.  As I was telling the part where the horses ran away, Barbara began to shake her head.  I asked her why she was shaking her head.  She told me I did not spook those horses.  They were inviting me to join them.  I knew the minute I heard her that she was speaking the truth though I didn’t know what it meant. “Look at your shirt” Barbara said.  That evening I had on my SMU Mustang shirt.

            Several months later I was back at Ghost Ranch and was sharing this Wild Mustang story at breakfast.  A woman who works with horses was listening and replied that is true.  That is the classic invitation to join the Mustangs. 

This experience has become part of my ongoing, unfolding journey, to discover what it means to be a Wild Mustang.  What does it mean to be wild and free and filled with life?  What does it mean to have no corrals?  What are the corrals? What would it be like to unleash the wild energy of a Wild Mustang, to be free, to be fierce?  How does one live at home as a Wild Mustang?  How does one love as a Wild Mustang?

A few years later a spiritual director told me I should stop seeking the Wild Mustangs.  He said I should be a Wild Mustang. Could I be at home with that tension – a Wild Mustang living in this domesticated world?