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Our Beloved Horses: Their Passages Through Grace Reveals Blessings

There are days among our ordinary lives that become extraordinary. Transition points. Defining moments. Miraculous and blessed.

One yesterday morning a year ago, I aroused from a deep sleep to slip right into a slice of heaven. My being was filled with love. So encompassing. So endearing. So awakening. I just basked in it. Soaked it dry.

I have had many of these amazing moments. I will tell you they are far better and beyond that of any earthly pleasure. These portholes open gently. Graciously embrace and swaddle with pure unconditional love. Waves of nirvana, happiness, freedom wash through every cell of my being. And with it comes a certain eternalness of knowing it comes from elsewhere—and another; most certainly from beyond. Definitively this slice of heaven is sharing what it’s like to go home.

Thereafter, I got up carrying this moment of bliss. It was 5am. Because my thoughts were about JD- and Lily, I looked out to the barn and listened. All was quiet and undisturbed, so I decided to go back to bed and sleep a bit more. Finally woke up at 8am. Showered. Put Mr. Orbit and Lunar outside as I went to feed my two horses.

I threw hay in the stall mangers. And as always, did a morning scan for good health. Horse habits you know. JD was outside against the paddock panel fence. Not coming in for breakfast to which he is always awaiting with a whinny greeting.

Concerned, I walked out to him. My heart sank. He breathing was labored and he was listless. It was serious. I put his halter on and walked him out to the arena behind the barn. He didn’t want to move. I went to get a thermometer. When I got back he had progressed to shaking. Mucus came from his nose. Instantly I ran in and got my cell phone and called my vet. It was JD’s time. I surmised, once he saw me it was okay to let go. And die.

It was 9:05am and the vet office said they were closed. So I rang through to the emergency number. I got a call back within minutes from their newest vet; a young, competent gal.

It started to rain. I brought JD out of the arena into the barn’s open carport. He had few steps left in him. I assured JD I would help him out of this life and into the next, soon. He just leaned his head into my chest as I stroked his forelock and his ears. Tremors shook him. His head drooped. Labored breathing, his legs posed to collapse. JD was having a seizure. The result of a 9 month vigil with old age end stages. Lymphoma had slowly consumed his body although initial blood tests indicated all functions were normal.

I knew then that early morn slice of heaven came from JD. I know firsthand when great pain comes, our consciousness leaves our body behind to do the physical work. JD sent his love to me while he could; still had the presence of earth energy to do so. This was not my first time to feel this type of trans-formative energy. I thought once again: how reassuring that our consciousness is able to crossover first, leaving the body to finish earthly transitions in a lucid trance-like state.

The vet came ready with the injection serum pre-measured and loaded. Not ten minutes later JD lay quietly at our feet. Immediately injected, JD succumbed quickly. Right where we got him to take his final few steps. A spot right in front of his barn, where the truck later could pick his body up easily. And where Lily could see him in the adjacent stall and pasture 20 feet away.

I asked this new vet if she had ever seen a soul leave a horse’s body that she put down. She thought pensively. “Once,” she said. “Straight after putting one down, the herd of horses began following something, maybe the soul body. The herd left the carcass behind.” I revealed I could see-perceive soul transitions. An interesting conversation ensued.

She asked me what to look for. Told her that on larger animals I saw the body double. As we talked I began to see JD ‘double’. I explained what I saw to her. She tried to see what I saw, but could not. I told her everyone perceives very differently. I happen to see-perceive the “body breathing”. This body doubling was my way of knowing JD’s soul was still attached to his physical self. He was not quite ready to exit his body, even though his body continued to die organically beyond that of his expired brain and heart. Our bodies are still organisms that even though clinically dead continue to live in many ways. Even up to- and through decomposition.

The vet waited with me as I talked about vibrational energy; a rich energy field full of varied frequencies everyone is capable of tapping into. This young vet with technical know how, was receptive. I told her she possessed a gift she could share to ease her clients concerns during these tough moments. Most vets are too occupied with the clinical aspects. That a bit of transition knowledge would not only help a client, but their horse as it crossed over. By putting grief aside momentarily, an owner can help release their horse graciously. With focus on sending it pure love. And, by appreciating and thanking their partner for sharing their life with them; including this ultimate and final lesson. Beloved animals still hear their loved ones-and even more so in this transition state. What a wonderful way to send a treasured friend off than to gift it with love and release, while suspending one’s own discomfort and grief—and beliefs.

I continued to see JD’s ‘breathing’. Witnessed his ethereal head raise twice, only to relax back down. We waited. I told her that animals, much like humans, pick their death times as well as their soul departures. In fact it could take hours or minutes to transition. I closed my eyes and asked when. My guides answered back: “Just You” “Subtle” and “Awhile”. I understood. This made sense.

The vet had another appointment and didn’t want to leave. Yet, her obligation presided. Her attending JD was no coincidence. Previously I had seen-envisioned this conversation at this juncture with one who was to be open-minded.

After the vet left the sun came out to create a perfect spring day with a slight breeze. I took up the task of clipping JD’s mane and tail hair off. Carefully banding it. Placing it in a box. I knew his soul was still present; breathing. I told JD he could cross over anytime. I led Lily out to see him, but she didn’t. Often horses ignore the body once dead. She gazed past him. Then ate grass nearby.

Lily appeared fine with the status of her long-time soulmate. She grew accustomed to his sick moments over the last months, often separating off from JD on his tired days. An innate survival instinct. I put her back in the pasture where she could visit from 20 feet away. And she did throughout the day.

I didn’t know exactly when JD’s soul body would transition. I did know he’d tell me, somehow. His energy did not feel ‘full’. This made sense as the larger part of him—his conscious self had transitioned early that morning. The residual left behind was his soul essence. Interesting concept to entertain. That his source self had split his energy in two parts: his conscious mind and his soul body.

Most of us, including myself, think of the soul and consciousness as being one and the same. I’ve come to know and recognize that free will deems how we wish to be born; and how we wish to die. It is a comforting thought when thinking about loved ones who endure a physically harsh death. That the pain body can be left to do the outward work of dying, while their consciousness, the larger part of them is set free.

Decidedly I would call the pickup van to come out in a few hours. Surely JD would transition fully by then. My phone lit up the numbers 11:11am. Perfection. When I am aligned with spirit, double and triple sequences of numbers show up. Four ones validated my ethereal listening skills. The transport gal said they couldn’t come out until 4pm. Another perfect time, that allowed no rush.

JD’s soul was still parked inside waiting. I set about major stall and barn cleaning. It took awhile. As I finished up JD’s stall I stood outside of it. Looked over to his body wondering when. From the left a black dog walked quietly, with head low right up to JD’s back. And sniffed. It was my crossed over TOBY! Of course! Toby’s grave was only 30 feet away in the garden. He looked straight on at me. I said in my head, “Toby, can you show JD the way? He needs some help. Please?” And, Toby perked up. His tail wagged. His ears went up. He put on his slap happy grin with his tongue hanging out that showed anticipation for a job to do. And then he disappeared. Toby had always shown JD and Lily the way ahead, blazing all the trails we rode together.

I resumed cleaning outside the front of JD’s stall. There was scats of hay. I was sweeping the granite dirt floor clean. My mind was empty. It was then at my right elbow I felt a huge quiet presence. I looked up to sense JD’s celestial body, a bright translucent light was shining large. I looked over at his earth body. It appeared abandoned. My earth brain thought momentarily. And entered a doubt because I had been waiting a long time for a hint. And then my eyes caught something outside JD’s stall door; in the paddock where I found JD that morning. On the top rail of the bright red tubing of my corral panel landed a black raven. I didn’t recall ever seeing a raven on my property. It looked straight at me. Squawked at me loudly! As if scolding I should know better. JD had sent it to validate that he was indeed out: FREE. As soon as I acknowledged this truth the raven flew off.

JD’s transition had been for “Only Me”. And it was very “Subtle”. I would have missed it if the vet, or any other, had been near to distract me. And it also took “Awhile”. I looked at my phone it said 12:39. These numbers made sense too. A sequence of 1-2-3. The 9 is a completion number.

The day was warm. It had a very slight breeze. However, after JD transitioned the breeze turned into gusts so strong the trees bent and swayed. My one stall with a wood door was flapping wildly, so much so I had to secure it shut. My yard came alive. Nature seemed to be manifesting ONLY on my property. I went over to JD’s body. Around him there was NO wind, yet his spot felt terribly odd. Like his body was the silent eye of a swirling vortex that surrounded the both of us.

I was impulsed to walk out to JD’s paddock. I looked into his deep 100 gallon water trough now about half full. And stared at it. The water was sloshing back and forth. Like the winds would rough up ocean waves in a fury. Yet, the tall trough sides should have shielded the water down inside it—but it was tossing about. And then I asked, “JD are you playing with the water?” He use to dip his full head in his trough to splash and slosh the water out almost emptying the bucket. And, then with that thought released, instantly the water waves died down to calm. The winds that had come in swiftly, disappeared just as abruptly. JD’s spirit had talked to me because I was listening.

I spent the rest of the day doing driveway weeding. There were times I looked over at JD and saw what Lily must have seen earlier: nothing. I did not see his physical body. I was fine being totally alone on his final day. Where I could receive JD’s messages. I did see him standing in random places for a few seconds here and there. The horse next door, part of the herd of 3, whined for JD off and on for the rest of the day. Lily only whinnied back at their friend once. She didn’t whinny or fuss otherwise.

Four o’clock came and so did the pick up truck. It was a one ton with a high box bed, a tail gate that dropped to the ground, and a winch. A gentle middle aged couple came to pick up. JD’s body would be buried on their neighbor’s property overlooking the Rogue River. He provided the land and had the equipment to bury. A smart joint venture. They said he used his graveyard pasture for his cows to graze as the grass grew rich. It was perfectly fitting for JD, my old cow penning pony.

Lily knew something was amiss. Was eyeing the truck. But as I chatted with this lovely couple, Lily got rather bored. Accustomed. They started hoisting JD into the truck so I went and got Lily and took her out back for a walk. She knew. Understood.

We stood watching the truck drive off to the east down our gravel road. Do you know what appeared? A precisely well placed rainbow rose high and arched wide over the road JD had just traveled while leaving. JD’s Rainbow thick with colors landed in the fields on opposite sides of the road! One that did not go unnoticed. It had caught my neighbor’s eye while driving home on our road, as she mentioned it was surreal and appropriate. Coincidence? No. Nature is perfect and complete.

I put Lily in JD’s stall. Truth is, they both used this stall a lot. It was their hangout spot. I fed her and stayed with her as the evening crawled in. Lily seemed to accept that it was just her now. I walked to the house. JD’s ethereal body was standing at the driveway gate. He had followed his body out to its resting spot, then his soul returned home.

I looked back at Lily. She was not eating. Instead she was looking intently out in the pasture. Her reaction was the same as the day Toby emerged in his spirit body. Lily recognized JD. She was not upset, rather mystified with JD’s new look. She started snorting and blowing through her nostrils at full attention.

As dusk came Lily started missing JD. For the first time Lily persistently called out with loud ‘Where are you?’ neighs. This went on for ten minutes. She was distressed. Then Lily fell silent. I am positive JD returned and stayed by her side all night. Because my property felt full, not empty that night. And Lily never let out one whinny again.

The prior week had been restless. I felt a change was imminent. The little signs were constant. JD had been happy, resolved. Comfortably so. He did his routines. Ate well every day. Had his normal afternoon nap. Ate heartily his meal the night before. His last three weeks were without any visible distress. Infested with cancer, yet JD had done well on the probiotics administered; better than I could have imaged or expected. It almost gave me false hope that all along it could have been a low grade colic. One always hopes. Denial comes too easy.

I did get one wish. That JD just surprise me one morning. And that was exactly the case. But more so, I wanted to be there for him. Witness, feel and be present with the miracle of his transition. JD and the heavens above blessed me with plenty.

I slept solid that night and woke early so I let Lily out in the pasture at dawn. She went to her friend, who met her at their fence line. The mares touched noses. It looked like they were having a long JD chat. They resumed eating grass together, on opposite sides of the fence the rest of that day.

That day I cried, some. Mostly from the burden of pent up stress from the last 6 months knowing. JD leaves one stall empty now. And a huge vacancy in the barn. Yet, I felt him outside everywhere for months thereafter. 27 years young he flew from his physicality back into the energy fields that surround us.

I met JD when he was 4 years old. That day I was helping a friend select her next horses. After riding JD, young and green with a sharp mind, I recommended to my friend: buy him. Twenty one of those years JD flew under my wing after my friend dispersed her herd and gifted him to me a few years later. JD had an uncanny common sense. Cow sense, people sense, horse sense. Yet, he could have easily ended up at an auction; slaughtered for meat. See, JD came with a rearing issue after bullying my friend and those who desired to ride him. I took him on because we were meant to be. And told my friend, she would not recognize him in two years. He just needed a leader to follow.

JD proved to be an excellent parade horse. In fact loved it. On parade days he preened as he waltzed down the procession corridor. Often leading our group carrying the American flag, no less! He excelled as a gymkhana competitor: a valley champ, 5 years running. Proved himself again after 6 years off; turning heads as a newcomer in another state where I relocated. He was a trail horse extraordinaire. Calm, thoughtful, careful. Irreplaceable. And, mostly, always he was family. One with bold character. JD was territorial with animals he didn’t know. Charged and ran out bears feeding off his apple trees. Yet gentle to the chickens, dogs, cats and other critters who belonged to me and my close neighbors. Horse camping. Poker rides. Springwood Ranch weekends. We had a great life. He was the black and white pinto pony I always coveted. The one I would cut in line to ride at the pony ring at Seattle’s Woodland park zoo when I was five. Who knows, maybe JD reincarnated into the larger version to become my dream horse come true.

Copyright 2019. All rights reserved.
No reprints or copying without permission of the author, Patty Ann.

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