The Grace of Avatar
copyright1997 Teresa Wagner
all rights reserved
It had been such a long time. Such a long time since I had seen him. Over a year at least. I wasn't prepared. I just wasn't prepared for what happened. As we approached his corral he ran to me. Oh God the sight of him—still as sleek and beautiful to me as Black Beauty in his prime. How could he possibly be over 30! He's just gorgeous. Bless him, he wasn't angry that it had been so long. He let me stroke his face even more than when I had seen him every week--and let me kiss his face, something he had never allowed before.
Oh Avatar! The presence of you reaches a place in my heart I had forgotten about. A place where physical beauty and visceral attraction along with the connection of souls exists with such ease. Oh Avatar. Your powerful presence is not just because of your size and beauty—though those are so very real and breathtaking. It's your spirit which is so huge. It's your spirit which first touched my soul and changed my life. It happened the day I met you some years ago when you were in such pain from being moved by your person to a better place, but a place which was taking you away from your dearest friends. I will never forget Avatar, I will never forget your pain. It was meant to be, I suppose, that on that day as I came along to help my human friend communicate with you that I forgot my usual ritual of protecting my own energy before connecting with you. Because I forgot this protection, I not only "saw" your pain, I felt it, I participated in it. It became my pain too.
As I began to tell you that you would be leaving, I felt your shock, your disbelief, then your panic. I felt you go to your two intimate mare friends, warning them, telling them you had just a short time for good-byes. Neither my heart nor my soul will ever forget what happened next. With my eyes closed, I saw three beautiful beings come together closely in a circle, three distinct light forms in the shape of your magnificent horse faces—your spirits merging in love. The sight was astonishing and brilliant, the intensity pure. What I felt you feeling, though, can hardly be described with words. I first felt the profound love passed back and forth among you, a love so deep and real it took my breath away. And then I felt your gross horror of being separated, so quickly, without notice. I felt your hearts exploding in grief. And then with awe, I saw your love and pain blend together with grace. The grace which allowed the love to exist as fully as the pain, the grace which allowed the pain to still be, yet not overshadow the love, the grace which after a time eliminated the panic. The grace which allowed you to walk away from them, toward your person with complete dignity and centeredness. I have been blessed by the presence of grace many times since then my beloved friend. But never, ever with grace the likes of yours.
Those moments, those holy moments, taught me an important lesson to always protect myself when helping others with pain. I was profoundly touched and moved but I was also emotionally drained and tired for days afterward. It was a reminder that when I take on others' pain it not only weakens my ability to help them but it weakens me in general. I know that compassion is not taking on the heartbreak or hurt of another. Compassion is providing anothers' pain a sacred place to exist, to be acknowledged, and to offer our deepest love, acceptance and understanding to that pain, trusting all the while that the wisdom of the other's soul will guide their healing. Compassion is not healing others. It's the offering of genuine empathy and love to allow their healing to unfold in its own way, in its own time. On that day, by not protecting myself, I was reminded of this important principle. Yet, it was meant to be, re-learning this lesson in this way, on this day with you. So yes, I re-learned the lesson of the need for protection. But the gift I received was grace. Thank you, thank you my dear friend. I will always love you and remember.
