2 June

At Blue Star: The Mystical City. Mysticism As The Art Of The Spiritual Life

by Jon Katz
Finding The Mystical Place
Finding The Mystical Place

And what is mysticism?

It is the art of the spiritual life.

For the past decade, I have been working as a writer, in one way or another, to answer the call of Henry Beston for a wiser and more mystical understanding of animals than we now possess in our culture.

In our society, our view of animals is narrowing, we are increasingly blinded to the reality of the animal world, we see them only in selfish terms that make us feel better, not that tell the truth about them.

We are understanding them only in terms  of the cruelty and abuse that is sometimes directed at them, but which is, in fact, a very small part of their reality. This makes us feel better about our sorry selves, it does them great harm.

Animals, healers and companions of people, are increasingly objects of division, persecution and hatred. The animals are being driven from our world.

The New York Carriage Horses gave me a path to a better and wiser understanding of animals that Beston, an author and naturalist called for in his famous work “Outermost House” a century ago.

In New York, our disconnection from the animal world and the lives of horses, humanity’s greatest animal partner through time, has never been more evident. We have turned the truth about them upside down, we have abandoned them to people who know nothing about them and care nothing about us.

Some say the horses are abused, but they are treated well. Some say work is abuse, but the real abuse comes from depriving them of it. Some say the work for the horses is cruelty, but indefensible cruelty and abuse are directed every day at the people who live with the horses, work with them and love them. In the great city, government seeks to take away work, way of life,  freedom and property, not to protect them.

There, they claim that horses are less friendly to Mother Earth than big and expensive cars and there, they claim the horses are dangerous when they are, in fact, the salvation of so many. There, they would take the horses away and kill them and send them into danger so that they can be saved. In this Orwellian world, this is called morality and animal rights.

The truth about the real lives of horses and other animals chokes under a cloud of lies and misinformation, ignorance and confusion. It puts the horses in harm’s way when they are safe. We need a better way than this, than seeing animals either as ignorant beasts of burden or as piteous and fragile beings in desperate need of our rescue, the new way to exploit them.

Blue Star Equiculture is the opposite of hatred and ignorance, and it’s antidote. Their message is powerful and true.

I am sorry to write that tragedy and mysticism are linked, and Paul Moshimer’s death at Blue Star last week has given new meaning to understanding animals, it has drawn attention to the power of the place, to it’s mystical, even hallowed meaning. Death and life are siblings, one makes the other possible, and Blue Star is full of life  – and now, tragedy – in all of it’s crisis and mystery. Whatever his intentions, Paul Moshimer’s life speaks for itself. He is a martyr to compassion now, and to the horses, a warrior for a gentler and more loving way.

Mysticism is a galaxy, a constellation of practices, connections, discourses, traditions, institutions and experiences aimed at human transformation. This transformation is sought by almost every tradition on the planet, defined differently by many of them. Blue Star is a place of human transformation. People come from everywhere to be transformed by the horses, to experience what we have forgotten, but which every ancient culture in the world knew: the animals are essential to human existence and to the future of Mother Earth, man cannot live in healthy ways or in harmony without them.

Nor can any person of conscience ignore the wounds of Mother Earth, who cries out to us through the souls of the animals, her children.

The Blue Star ethos is born of this idea of new beginnings, of harmony and community, of the partnership between people and animals, it is in the air, the ground, the eyes of the horses, the faces of the people who are drawn there. It is in the beautiful and mystical tree where Paul Moshimer took his own life, and where the horses gathered to say goodbye to him.

Mysticism was in brilliant, even wrenching,  evidence this weekend as all kinds of people – police and corrections officers, construction workers and artists, poets and hairdressers, children and old men and women, the rich and the poor, millionaires and Native-American seers, students and teachers, animal lovers and recovering drug addicts, the broken and the whole, the seekers and the priests – came to mourn the death of Paul Moshimer who felt the mysticism of Blue Star and has now come to be a symbol of it. It felt like a shrine to me, the people who came to mourn Paul were on a pilgrimage.

We are at a crossroads. Animals are vanishing from the earth, our world is bleeding to death. It is time, say the Native Americans, for people to come together in harmony, and with the animals of the world, or to perish together. Mystical humanism calls to us. It is, says philosopher Evelyn Underhill, is “the expression of the innate tendency of the human spirit towards complete harmony with the transcendental order, whatever be the theological formula under which that order is understood.”

At Blue Star – you can see this in the photographs taken there, almost everyone who comes brings a camera – mysticism takes the form of new ways of knowing and loving based on different states of awareness in which our own differing ideas of God becomes present in our inner acts, and in our interactions with animals.

At Blue Star, animals are not driven away from us by people who are strangers to them, they are permitted, encouraged,  to speak to us, listen to us, enter our consciousness and transform our lives. This is the common experience of Blue Star, it can be seen every day there, and felt.

There, the animals are respected, not trivialized, honored, not condescended to, saviors, not victims of us, heard, not ignored. And so they respond to us, they teach us that mysticism, in it’s purest form, is the perception of the universe and all of it’s diverse and disparate parts into a unified whole bound together by love and compassion and acceptance.

This has been missing from our understanding of animals, this absence is the barrier to understanding them, the greatest danger they face, the pathway to a cold and joyless world without magic or inspiration or true love.

You can see this for yourself at Blue Star, you can go there and see the horses, you can see it here.  You can help restore the bond and awaken the lost world of the imagination.

 

 

2 June

Red And The Ponies: Remembering Rocky, Meeting Chloe

by Jon Katz
Red And The Ponies
Red And The Ponies

When Red and the rest of us came to this farm, we inherited a 34-year-old Appaloosa pony named Rocky, he was blind and had been living out in the pasture for 15 years. He had no real shelter and found the water he needed back in the marsh. Even though he could not see, he followed long-trodden paths to the good grass and the water. He took care of himself.

We loved Rocky, Maria and I took care of him for a couple of years. He was fading, and then was set upon by Simon, our sometimes belligerent male donkey who decided, as equine herds often do, that it isn’t safe to have an infirm animal in the herd, Simon attacked Rocky repeatedly. We separated them, but it was a temporary solution. Rocky faded under the stress, and our vet recommended a merciful euthanasia, she didn’t think Rocky could handle another winter.

This was the most painful moment for Maria and I in  a long time. She was especially attached to him. Red and Rocky took to one another right away, Red seems to win the acceptance of other animals, he knows how to conduct himself in a way that is not threatening. I was startled to see that Red was working as a seeing eye dog for Rocky, he would lead him to water and to the barn and paths. Rocky would come up behind him and smell where he was, then Red would move ahead a dozen yards or so.

In this way, Red guided Rocky around the pasture. it was a beautiful and powerful thing to see. When Rocky died, Red was content to manage the sheep. Yesterday Chloe arrived, another pony, and the two of them seem to have connected already. Whenever I looked up today, Chloe and Red were together, keeping an eye on things. Chloe does not need a seeing eye dog, but she perhaps does need a friend until the donkeys decide it is okay to hang out with her.

She picked a good one.

2 June

Getting To Know Chloe

by Jon Katz
Getting To Know Chloe
Getting To Know Chloe

Chloe is a centered animal, dominant but not aggressive. The donkeys have been watching her closely all  night and into the morning. At first, they ran away from her and she pursued them. Today, she is just staying close to them and that seems okay. Lulu and Fanny have been together almost all of their lives, they are sisters. They are inseparable, but they are also social and easy-going. Maria got all three of them to come together for treats and brushing, that is great for the first day. I am enjoying getting to know Chloe, she reminds me of Rocky in some ways.

People don’t realize that ponies have a rich history, like donkeys. Many were originally bred as war animals, they can be very strong and grounded, they do not easily spook, they are hardy and love to work with people, as many horses do. Maria hopes to ride her today.

2 June

A New Paradigm, A New Beginning

by Jon Katz
A New Chapter
A New Chapter

This morning, a new paradigm, a new beginning, a horse and two donkeys at the gate. Cloe and the donkeys are growing comfortable with one another, They are all falling under Maria’s loving spell. They each waited patiently together for their piece of carrot. Last night, Chloe chased them around the pasture a bit, and then they seemed to accept one another. Chloe is still giving the sheep a hard time, chasing them away from the Pole Barn. We separated them for a day or so until they get comfortable with one another.

I am a bit nonplussed by this pony, but she is impressive, calm grounded and affectionate. She loves attention, she and Maria seemed to have bonded in their training together. Eli Anita-Norman is a wonderful teacher.

Chloe is a strong presence, no doubt she will be the equine leader here. She is loving the green grass, we will have to manage her consumption, ponies can flounder.

I am trying to figure all of this out, and feel some unease, and I think it is because this is the first animal who has come to the farm that I have not chosen, do not know, have had almost nothing to do with. That is the paradigm shift, I think, and a good and healthy one. This is Maria’s farm too, not just mine, as the first Bedlam Farm was. I urged her to get a horse, it is wonderful to see how happy she is with the horses, how drawn she is to them and how confident she is around them. I would not have thought it a few years go.

When Maria rides a horse, or is near them, she seems to find her true self, her real strength, she feels strong and at peace. That is a beautiful thing.

Chloe is a symbol of our new life together, of Maria’s growth and strength, of her journey to being a horsewoman, a special breed. Maria is and will always be an artist first, that is her soul and her heart, but the horses have called to her, as they have to me.

I like to write about them, feel their messages, understand their history and spirit, Maria wants to know them, touch them, groom them, love them, ride them. I went out into the pasture this morning in my bathrobe just as the sun came up and Chloe came running over to me from the other side of the pasture.

I had a cookie in my pocket for her and she took it and stood quietly next to me, we got to know each other for a bit. I like her, she is a wise and steady soul. I think she is glad to be here. I am so happy for us, for Maria, for the farm. I like paradigm shifts, stasis is the first death.

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