"The sight of them pulls us under their spell."--Imke Spilker
Having devoted the prior two journal entries to beauty's dark side and Altamiro's glorious wild horse expressionism, another article written by Imke Spilker has been presented to me at a perfect time for its first publication in English here in the Journal of Ravenseyrie.
This article was initially published in 1995 in a German environmental magazine called Umwelt Direkt, appearing in the segment Nature and Man. The title of the article is, Wild Horses and, like me, I think you will be amazed at how far ahead of her time Imke Spilker was, to be writing fifteen years ago about things we are just now coming to terms with.
The translation of Wild Horses is by Kristina McCormack. All the photos accompanying the text were taken by me, here at Ravenseyrie, with the exception of the black and white image of Imke Spilker and Reno which was captured by Hans-Peter Gerstner.
Many thanks to Imke Spilker and Kris McCormack for trusting the Journal of Ravenseyrie with the publication of another thought-provoking article.
Wild Horses by Imke Spilker
Earth has been subjected by mankind -- this idea characterizes now as ever our behavior toward the environment. But subjugation is not the only answer we can give to the living world around us.
Nature in Germany is tame. No bear lurks deep in the woods, every tree has its owner, and the wind-and-waterproof Goretex jacket resists every bit of bad weather. We have our Nature firmly in hand. We love her, enclose her, cultivate her. We help the turtles cross the street, live in a nature conscious way, and feel like her big brother.
****
They fly off into the distance on thundering hooves, confidently tossing their flowing manes, eyes flashing they rear and gambol, full of unbounded power and joy in living: high-spirited, playful, free horses. The sight of them pulls us under their spell. Horses, it is said, are noble, proud, symbols of freedom and power.
Human beings go into the mountains and desert, in ice and snow, into oceans and virgin forest seeking primordial wildness -- always remaining outside it, only observers. Because wildness is fright and yearning all in one. The magnificent, colossal unboundedness provokes horror when we feel completely at its mercy. Powerless, abandoned to a Nature that we no longer understand, that we no longer trust, panic seizes us and we feel alienated, strangers in a strange land.
Horses are tame harmless pets. Work animals sacrificing themselves in the service of mankind. Livestock. We love horses. They are familiar to us. Horses are strong and fast, far surpassing humans in their powers. Domestication has done little to change that. When they are left to themselves, they shift effortlessly back to a wild horse existence. Horses do not need us. As long as the river stays in its bed, the garden is free of weeds, and our apartment is free of vermin, we feel at home in nature. Subjugated, she allows us harmony. We feel in unison with tamed nature. But as soon as Nature “leaves the reservation”, comes too close and becomes unpredictable, the uncontrolled-ness of it all disturbs us at the deepest level: we decimate, cultivate, train.... It is still fascinating for man to control, “break”, and bridle the horse -- that symbol of wildness. Dominated Nature, that carries him.
But horses are not wild! They are afraid of us and our incomprehensible world, they sense our conflicting emotions, they would like to trust us, and above all they do not make an attempt on our lives with their superior strength. Horses are not only NOT aggressive, they are actually addicted to harmony -- a characteristic that has made them extraordinarily useful in the history of human beings. Their working days are over. Today we have stronger, faster, more easily maintained machines. But, the fascination with horses is intact. The fact that they are no longer needed as beasts of burden offers us a new opportunity, but instead of seizing it and learning a new art of partnership from horses, we instead still use them --- as leisure-time appliances. Horses are drilled, controlled, enslaved like (almost) no other animal. Every step is proscribed for them. The arsenal of methods for completely controlling and dominating an animal that once roamed free on the steppes is continually perfected. All too often this “creature of the wind” loses his health and his joy of living because of this.
It could be different. We could become familiar, intimate, with the horse as with a friend. We could give up control and bridling and entrust ourselves to a togetherness that bridges the separation between animal and man. Horses can teach us harmony, unity between inner and outer. They can take away from us the fear that underlies our preference for separation and control. If we learn to open ourselves to them and perceive their subtle language, we will also come closer to our own true nature. For life -- and this applies to us, too -- is always somehow unpredictable. Thank goodness!
Photo: H-P Gerstner
Communication instead of control -- that changes even the horses. The conscious, proud art of movement engenders a new and healthy perception of self. Dance and play, horse and human -- elevated, exhilarated, joyful and free.
“And Allah took a handful of south wind, breathed into it and created the horse ... ‘I have given you the power to fly without wings and triumph without sword..’” --Bedouin tradition
Two Sandhill Cranes fly over the Ravenseyrie Sorraia Mustang Preserve on Manitoulin Island
I'm a woman with a philosophical, meditative, reflective, gentle disposition. I have been trained to show restraint, be a witness, a watcher, to stand outside myself, to "feel" deeply--yet not be swept away by emotionality.
I'm steady, reliable, balanced, serenely grounded in "the now"...
...except when I am not!
Which sometimes is my reality, too.
Certain occurrences, sights, fragrances, sounds, textures can transport me and evoke a completely absorbed state of sensuality (which I do not mean in a sexual context). This, too, is part of "the now", but it is not experienced by me with esoteric detachment, rather the sensation is like an intoxicating wave, a fever, a particular madness, after which I return to that more stoic mien that is my preponderant manner of being.
Living here at Ravenseyrie, especially mingling with the primitive Sorraia and Sorraia Mustang horses provides me with the opportunity to explore both the spiritual and the carnal elements of myself and I must tell you that many times there seems no discernable duality during the peak experiences characterized by "a particular madness".
"Part of us still knows we need the Wild Redeemer."--Dale Pendell
During this early spring the catalyst to many an "intoxicating wave" is our Sorraia stallion, Altamiro, five years old and SO very ENERGIZED!!
In my last journal entry, I relayed that Altamiro often leaves his family band to go "lookin' for adventure", and I mentioned that he has begun to delight in chasing seagulls and ravens. We can add the Sandhill Crane to this list of aves singled out for entertainment purposes by this ardent ancestral stallion...and I have it on video!!!
A Sandhill Crane and Canada Goose in close proximity during the spring of 2009 at Ravenseryie
Altamiro was coming back from the east sector yesterday, early evening, after having put in some rambunctious interactivity with Mistral's group. I was making dinner and could see him coming back across the field, and he paused, looking like a chiseled statue of mythic proportions.
I could tell he still had energy to spare and was looking for the next activity to engage himself in. I wished for two things as I watched him...I wished that I had my camera on the tripod with the bigger lens attached, and I wished there was a flock of seagulls nearby by, because I just knew Altamiro would race toward them and send them scattering on the wind.
As I was wishing these things, off to the west a pair of Sandhill Cranes descended and landed just to the north of the Red Osier Dogwood region. Altamiro saw them too! I grabbed my camera (ordinary lens, no tripod) and quickly took up a position outside and pushed "record". Altamiro had to cover quite a distance and while trying to keep him in the view-finder I was unable to also get the cranes in the same frame, but you'll hear their distinctive voices, and around the 20 second mark of the video clip, up in the left upper corner of the frame you'll see they've taken off. Though I was unable to zoom in any closer, you still can get a sense of the thrill of watching this amazing stallion run across the landscape, bent on chasing up those birds! "Racin' with the wind..."
To help you see them better, I've extracted a still scene from the video clip, of poor quality, but I really wanted you to see that those smart cranes left the ground before thundering hooves got too close. See them, near the top, on the left? Two pieces of music have been fighting for attention in my mind since Altamiro has begun to so energetically take on the entire world. What other stallion can inspire a mild-mannered woman to hear both Steppenwolf and Beethoven at the same time?
Mars Bonfire wrote a song that obviously Altamiro has somehow listened to. Below, are the lyrics to Born to be Wild. As you read them, I'm betting like me, you can see how Altamiro expresses all that these words convey. And if you're not familiar with this incredible Steppenwolf song, I've pasted in a performance by them so you can hear what I hear when I see Altamiro strutting his stuff here at Ravenseyrie.
Get your motor runnin' Head out on the highway Lookin' for adventure And whatever comes our way Yeah Darlin' go make it happen Take the world in a love embrace Fire all of your guns at once And explode into space
I like smoke and lightning Heavy metal thunder Racin' with the wind And the feelin' that I'm under Yeah Darlin' go make it happen Take the world in a love embrace Fire all of your guns at once And explode into space
Like a true nature's child We were born, born to be wild We can climb so high I never wanna die
Born to be wild Born to be wild
But! As I mentioned, Ludwig von Beethoven's music also comes to mind when I view Altamiro's combustibility. One example would be the "presto agitado" third movement of Beethoven's "Moonlight" sonata. I've selected a performance by Murray Perahia for you to hear:
As you can tell by the sensual elements of this journal entry, I am unable to show restraint while watching Altamiro express his joie de vivre and have given up trying. Sometimes the river is fast moving, and I'm swept away...but I do not think it detracts from spiritual aspiration...I think it enhances it, don't you?
Altamiro, grazing with his family, while keeping an eye on a pair of Sandhill Cranes at the Ravenseyrie Sorraia Mustang Preserve on Manitoulin Island
Three beats to the ground, one airborne and silent--perchance to fly... All beauty and magic--until reaching down and forward, with his teeth he grasps the foal's hock, never breaking stride, one fluid movement, an angry toss and the filly has somersaulted, landed in a jumbled heap and is immediately back up, running to catch up with the warm side of her dam, several strides ahead.
Pinoteia
I run full at HIM, screaming, "ALTAMIRO!!! WHAT ARE YOU DOING!!!" He pauses, and I stop, shaking my fists, wailing like a banshee, hating all that is HIM...completely at a loss to comprehend how he could have behaved so brutishly. Because Bella said "no" to his sexual overtures, Altamiro acted out in frustration by tossing seven day old Pinoteia.
"She could have landed on a rock!!!", I upbraided him.
He looked me full in the eyes, understood my disappointment in HIM...but yet compelled by a wave of hormonal angst, he tossed his handsome head, shaking off my rebuke, and ran his harem off into the far forest north.
Altamrio... He is larger than life for me, and even as I am repulsed by some of his rock star, bad boy attitudinal outbursts, I find myself enamored by his incredible charisma.
Was it this way even before we met?
I surely projected A LOT of hopes and dreams upon him even before we met.
And when we finally did meet, I loved him as a mother loves a child, my hopes and dreams of a noble herd sire mostly were forgotten, looking at this skinny, out-of-place, remnant of a lost age. A wild horse with ties to ancient times? He seemed much more like a child, wrenched from his zoological park home, pushed onto a plane, flown over the ocean and deposited into a wilderness his prehistoric genes seemed to have long forgotten.
I enveloped him with empathy, and worry. He was so small, under-developed even "dull" witted. How could he possibly "seed" the restoration of ancestral horses???
The yearling Sorraia stud colt, Altamiro, in 2006, living in our yard temporarily because of the troubles we had getting him accepted into the herd.
Everyone here (those with equine heritage) seemed to loath him. Most wanted nothing to do with him. One refused to allow him group participation at all. One wanted to kill him.
And he looked at them, rather dopey-eyed, and extended the hoof of friendship--despite being repeatedly rebuffed.
Altamiro trying to make friends with Bella in 2006. (Note the healing wound on his neck, a "welcome" gift from Jerry, the draft mule, during an earlier attempt at integration.)
Adjustments had to be made. Mesquite, a small bay mule (who was bent on destroying the Sorraia) had to be relocated to a new home.
Mesquite, a diminutive--but determined-- mule, chasing down Altamiro in 2006.
Mistral (the gelding who would be King) maintained a strict circumference which the alien stud colt must not breech.
Summer gave way to late autumn before one could say that he had actually integrated into the herd and made Ravenseyrie his home. What did the rest of the equines at Ravenseyrie see that I could not? There was no threat in this almost homely, forlorn creature...was there?
...and I wondered, how in the world would such a dim-eyed colt become a herd sire?
Presently, I'm reading David Shenk's book on epigenetics titled, The Genius in All of Us, which provides a wonderful window into how influential the way we live our lives is upon our genetic make-up and even the genetic expression of the next generation. Genes hold within them the promise of potential, but they are not, on their own, the stuff of greatness. The interaction of environmental influences, cultural shaping and each individual's choices to the variables presented throughout life all have a role in how genes express themselves.
The implications of this dynamic interaction are enormous; it explodes all of our old notions of "innate" qualities and genetic destiny. The new way to understand genes is that they are a vital actor in a developmental process. "In each case," explains Cambridge University biologist Patrick Bateson in "Cycles of Contingency." "The individual animal starts its life with the capacity to develop in a number of distinctly different ways. Like a jukebox, the individual has the potential to play a number of different developmental tunes... The particular developmental tune it does play is selected by [the environment] in which the individual is growing up."
This very thing, "dynamic interaction" is what Altamiro responded to from the minute he stepped off the trailer and began to mingle with all that is Ravenseyrie.
In the whole wide world there are +/- 200 Sorraia horses remaining in existence. Of these there even a smaller number of breeding stallions, some of whom are now subjected to modern breeding practices which house the stallions separately from the mares and foals, keep them in limited, unnatural environments, incorporate artificial insemination, etc. I can well imagine that if Altamiro had been exposed to a less inspiring environment than Ravenseyrie, kept from actually living with mares and trained to allow humans to collect his semen via a dummy mount, he would not be the equine version of film star, Antonio Banderas, but would likely have grown even duller in body and mind than he was when he first arrived here as a yearling.
All well and good that this five year old Sorraia stallion has grown into an ardent and impassioned, larger than life Iberian hearthrob--one must realize that he is not all "sweetness and light"--the particular beauty that is Altamiro has a dark side...
Antonio Banderas in the film Desperado Image credit: Rick Torres
As relayed in the opening scene of today's journal entry, Altamiro does not always channel his amazing energy into edifying actions. Though upon inspection, wee Pinoteia had not a scratch on her after having been picked up and slung aside by her father, in truth, she could have landed on one of the many rocks that make up our landscape, becoming broken bodied or even killed by such rash action undertaken by Altamiro. Let's just say that I've never been impressed by rock stars that take to smashing their guitars.
Altamiro, during the summer of 2009
At this time in his life, Altamiro must feel spectacular. After a rough start here, he now lays claim to rulership of all of Ravenesyrie, even lately taking delight in charging into flocks of seagulls and ravens for the dual pleasure of feeling his body respond in top form and being in the middle of birds taking flight en mass. (You can bet I'm hoping to get this on camera one day!) Imagine him rearing up and pawing at birds in flight, with mischievous delight.
Mischievous aptly describes Altamiro, for he is not wholly satisfied with being the paramour to four young mares and father to their exquisite offspring...no, he gets a bit bored with the family life and often leaves them to go marauding, looking for action elsewhere.
Antonio Banderas in the film Desperado Photo credit, unknown
Typically Altamiro's quest for physical and mental stimulation outside that which he receives as a "family man" lead him over to the other sector of the range where Mistral and his group roam. Here there are mules to harass, his banished sons and the domestic geldings to play rough and tumble games with, and his expelled daughters to haze once again.
This first video clip shows Altamiro harassing the draft mule, Dee:
This next clip shows Altamio picking out his coming two year old son, Interessado, for a bit of roughing up:
Most of the time no harm comes from these escapades (not counting, of course, the surface bites that most everyone other than Altamiro himself wears from these encounters).
Several weeks ago, however, Mistral (the former ruler of the land) though 28 years old and a domestic bred Arabian gelding decided not to walk away from Altamiro when he came by to flex his muscles and arrogantly remind Mistral that Ravenseyrie was now his. If Kevin had not been on hand to break it up, who knows how far things would have gone? A fight to the death? Kevin felt that Mistral was not going to back down or concede this time and their duel would have escalated until Mistral suffered a mortal wound. After referee Kevin had sent both fighters to their respective corners, Mistral actually tried to go after Altamiro again, until Kevin once more intervened and convinced Mistral to give it up. I used nearly an entire jar of calendula salve doctoring up the hundreds of bite marks strong-headed Mistral walked away with. Altamiro was unscathed, as usual. The two have a new truce in effect and have gone back to a respectful and peaceful relations.
Altamiro, sharing some "family man" time, here dining with both Segura and Silvestre
While contemplating how to best compose this journal entry, I first found myself likening Altamiro to a brilliant rock star coming into top form--who is he most like: Elvis Presley? , Mick Jagger?, Axl Rose?.
But after further reflection, scenes from the many films Antonio Banderas has starred in began to replay in my mind and I realized that this actor's smouldering, dark, yet passionate and "fair" minded characters best resonated with the type of character Altamiro presently is. A fitting reflection, actually, considering they both have a heritage from the Iberian Peninsula.
Can you see the resemblance between Altamiro and Antonio Banderas in character as Zorro?
Altamiro in a soft moment with one of his leading ladies, the Kiger Mustang mare, Ciente
While it has been delightfully fun to select a celebrity who personifies Altamiro, I recognize that at this point in time, it was obvious I could not select a more esoteric-minded figure, though I may have wished for one. Yet there is something passionately noble as well as transcendentally spiritual about this horse...and not just he, but each of these "primitives" here at Ravenseyire, as if the best of Ghandi himself--that self-same capacity to inspire better things in humans--exists in these primordial equine entities. Somehow I can readily imagine that Altamiro (of his own accord, but with a little prompting from Kevin and me) will turn the most violent tendencies of his expressionism into actions which provoke the best in himself and others. David Shenk again, this time from his book, The Genius in All of Us:
Could our individual actions be affecting evolutin in all sorts of unseen ways? "People used to think that once your epigenetic code was laid down in early development, that was it for life," says McGill University epigenetics pioneer Moshe Szyf. "But life is changing all the time, and the epigenetic code that controls your DNA is turning out to be the mechanism through which we change along with it. Epigenetics tells us that the little things in life can have an effect of great magnitude." Everything we know about epigenetics so far fits perfectly with the dynamic systems model of human ability [and all living things--lg.]. Genes do not dictate what we are to become, but instead are actors in a dynamic process. Genetic expression is modulated by outside forces. "Inheritance" comes in many different forms: we inherit stable genes, but also alterable epigenes; we inherit languages, ideas, attitudes, but can also change them. We inherit an ecosystem, but can also change it. Everything shapes us and everything is shaped by us. The genius in all of is is built-in ability to improve ourselves and our world.
The difficulty lies with me. Nature is Beauty...yet she has a dark-side, at least as a human, it seems to me there is darkness and violence that I do not always know how to reconcile. But, like Shambhala Training, I believe in the essence of basic goodness, and when I see Altamiro acting out violently, on the one hand I recognize that I may not understand what motivates such behavior...perhaps it arises from instinct and hormonal urges, some of which are meant to be survivalist in intent and other which are imbalanced...I try not to judge, but I do sometimes intervene. When I feel such things arise from an imbalance, I have no difficulty in shaking my fists in reproach and intervening with a prompt to him that he should behave differently. Then, heart to heart, I try to reflect the higher calling of beingness...and who is to say it will not have an interactive impact upon his further development?
I'd like to leave you now with a YouTube video clip from the big screen film, Four Rooms, wherein Antonio Banderas comically demonstrates (in a supremely enjoyable example of over-acting) the conflict of being a father who sometimes wishes to escape parenting for a bit of wild fun...reminding me so very much of Altamiro himself:
"The sight of them pulls us under their spell."--Imke Spilker
They fly off into the distance on thundering hooves, confidently tossing their flowing manes, eyes flashing they rear and gambol, full of unbounded power and joy in living: high-spirited, playful, free horses. The sight of them pulls us under their spell. Horses, it is said, are noble, proud, symbols of freedom and power.
The magnificent, colossal unboundedness provokes horror when we feel completely at its mercy. Powerless, abandoned to a Nature that we no longer understand, that we no longer trust, panic seizes us and we feel alienated, strangers in a strange land.
As long as the river stays in its bed, the garden is free of weeds, and our apartment is free of vermin, we feel at home in nature. Subjugated, she allows us harmony. We feel in unison with tamed nature. But as soon as Nature “leaves the reservation”, comes too close and becomes unpredictable, the uncontrolled-ness of it all disturbs us at the deepest level: we decimate, cultivate, train.... It is still fascinating for man to control, “break”, and bridle the horse -- that symbol of wildness. Dominated Nature, that carries him.
The fact that they are no longer needed as beasts of burden offers us a new opportunity, but instead of seizing it and learning a new art of partnership from horses, we instead still use them --- as leisure-time appliances. Horses are drilled, controlled, enslaved like (almost) no other animal. Every step is proscribed for them. The arsenal of methods for completely controlling and dominating an animal that once roamed free on the steppes is continually perfected. All too often this “creature of the wind” loses his health and his joy of living because of this.
Horses can teach us harmony, unity between inner and outer. They can take away from us the fear that underlies our preference for separation and control. If we learn to open ourselves to them and perceive their subtle language, we will also come closer to our own true nature. For life -- and this applies to us, too -- is always somehow unpredictable. Thank goodness!
Photo: H-P Gerstner
