We Have Nothing to Fear, But Fear Itself.

I am a recluse by nature. It's true.

An introvert.

I often play the part of "extrovert," but when it comes right down to it, I'm simply not that outgoing. I am, in fact, deep down, merely scared.

It took me a long time to recognize that basic emotion that churned in my gut as FEAR because it was always so cleverly masked with ideas about rejection and approval, disappointment and success. But when you pull away all the layers, what you are left with is FEAR.

When I realized my entire life was based around my own personal FEARS, I was suddenly able to better understand my horses.

That's what a horse's life is about, after all: FEAR

Horses are prey animals, and as such, their lives are naturally based in fear. The red bucket that wasn't sitting by the side of the barn yesterday poses a grave threat to the intelligent equine. Anything out of the ordinary or anything out of place = threat.

I worked with Adonis today--my first time since breaking my wrist. I was unsure whether or not I could adequately hold the lead line in my left hand, if the pressure would be too much for my broken wrist, even in the cast. But fortunately, leading Adonis was effortless.

He sniffed my cast all over (it was new, after all) to make sure I didn't happen to have a hand grenade taped to my arm. Once he was satisfied that the bright lime green cast wasn't going to hurt him, he fell into his normal behavior pattern.

I took him to the round pen and let him loose. My only goal was to share the space with him and not have him infringe on my personal space unless I invited him to do so.

So he stared at me. (He's an extroverted horse. He lives for attention.)

But he surprised me by respecting my space. If I looked at him and with my body language suggested he come forward to meet me, he would walk up to me. But if I didn't look at him, and stood relaxed, he didn't approach me. He stayed close, but not in my space.

So just as the realization of my own fears helped me understand my horses, the reaction of my equine companion gave me an equally important realization.

Our connections with other human beings is up to us. It's in how we LOOK at other people. If we are aloof in our body language or reserved with our visual contact, the people around us are going to stand back. It's only when we open ourselves to other people that we have the opportunity to form friendships. We must first "suggest" with our body language that we are approachable, that we aren't a threat.

I will probably always be "scared." It's my nature. I have a tender heart, and I don't like having it hurt. But maybe, for us introverts, fear isn't all we have to look forward to.

Maybe we can learn from our equine friends that sometimes all it takes is a desire for connection and a bit of confidence in those around us. We realize that the red bucket is just that: a red bucket. And we begin to trust. And through trust, we experience freedom.