I’ve been reading a lot of Sallie McFague’s work. She was an environmental theologian and her work on the Models of God is important, dare I say vital, to my thesis. In her work she talks about those who choose to hold onto the monarchic, parental authority model of God, who see of themselves the sin of not submitting to God’s authority rather than the greater sin of not living in community with the other living creatures on the planet and within the limits of our planet. I suppose it’s the “little psychologist” part of my brain (AFAB people who are undaignosed autistic often become “little psychologists” to figure out how people work), but I’ve been thinking a lot about our current American political situation and those people who hold onto authoritarian politicians, regimes, and belief systems, and what that says about them and about our culture at large.
Three times a day I go to the pasture. I close my senior mare into a small pen so she can take the time she needs to eat. And depending on whether I’m slightly late, or its raining, or maybe the weather has changed and set their world on edge, but on those times when I’m feeding the other horses, there’s one mare, Kitty Kash, who seems to be the bully or the diva depending on her mood. She won’t go to her bucket. She has to eat out of Holly’s bucket, the lowest mare in the herd pecking order, and if it’s just senior mare getting fed, then she stands at the gate and nickers at me as if I’m about to forget that there’s a 1000-lb diva demanding food in my pasture. She’s not aggressive. She’s not pushy toward me. But she is determined to get food that isn’t hers–always.
I used to dub this the “Republican mindset”. The old, “what’s mine is mine, and what’s yours is mine” type of thinking that seems to characterize those without empathy for the poor, disabled, and impoverished. But she’s a horse; she knows no political parties. And I have the utmost empathy for her, because I do know that when she lived next door with a senior mare who has since passed on due to old age, the senior mare got a handful of grain, while Kitty Kash got none. And when they arrived here to stay (rather than just escaping and coming over), they looked like they were in dire need of groceries. I also know that prior to her going to live with the neighbor, Kitty Kash lived with the person who sold us this property and let’s just say her feeding habits for her large herd of horses wasn’t up to my standards or any standards at all. So Kitty Kash has known “want” for many years of her life. And even though she’s been here for at least five years and has had all the food she could eat, hers and often the remainders of other horse’s food, either given willingly or not, she still acts like she’s starving any time the food bucket comes around.
It took Holly almost a decade to settle in and trust me enough to allow me to love on her and to stand without dancing for the farrier. Sure, she still dashes away when goofy gelding or Kitty Kash come around; she takes no chances. But she is learning to trust and know that she will live her life free of demands and rough treatment. Why should I expect any faster healing from Kitty Kash?
I can only extrapolate on the human side of this equation why people hold onto authoritarian images of God or authoritarian beliefs and viewpoints. I have my suspicions it has to do with early conditioning, early beliefs, and not being willing or able to challenge those stories and engage in the sacred storytelling necessary to uncover one’s true, authentic self. How does this serve me is a scary question to answer whether we’re thinking about authoritarianism, our own beliefs about our own situation, or any belief that we may have internalized. That’s a lot of hard work, work that takes community, and care, and most of all time and space to heal. And let’s be honest, as someone who has been struggling to make ends meet, doing that kind of work can’t even be considered until there’s safety, a way to step away from trauma and triggering situations, and a thorough knowledge of the self.
As a spiritual counselor, clergy, and someone who seeks to lift people up, I cannot pass judgment on people anymore than I could think to pass judgment on Kitty Kash. Instead, I must reorient myself, again ask, who do these stories serve? what do these stories serve? and hold space and prepare to walk with people (and equines) without judgment or a predetermined outcome as they go through the work of sacred storytelling and reorienting themselves.
The next time I walk into the pasture, I do so with a new mindset, a new way of being with her, and I hope, in due time, she’ll understand that there’s no need to be pushy about food. All are cared for here, and it is okay to trust.
