Never before has handling animal poo occurred with such regularity in my life.
Our two "normal sized" horses, and one miniature, currently amble on a small couple of acres, which is relatively wee for big pooing animals. And these animals are picky enough that they would rather go hungry than eat where they have let dump.
There was a time in my life when the thought of manipulating animal excrement was cringe-worthy.
Now, I find it om-worthy.
Dread of the task does factor in, at times, but consistently, after I am amidst the horses, watching their dynamics and shenanigans and feeling renewed energy with the physical activity-- I find myself adoring horse-poo-gathering-time.
I imagine that the horses are looking at me thinking, wow, that human really loves me to keep this paddock clean, and our bond is strengthened. Coming up and asking for a snuggle is their way of saying thank you.
Frequently, polo comes to my mind as I swing the poo rake.
Zen gardening enters in, as well, and for a millisecond I might imagine looking down on long flowing orange gown, raking my stone garden, while exuding rays of joy and inner peace.
"Easter eggs" frequently involuntarily pops in my mind. Ringo's (the miniature) mini-poo is found nestled in tufts of grass as if the Easter Bunny has dropped a load of chocolate eggs for someone to find.
The imagination flows freely.
What I do not do is review any negativity in my life. This job of servitude to other living beings, I choose to do in inner-peace.
Moving, shovelling, poo-gathering mindfulness: that's what it is.
As well as a convenient reminder that we have a choice of what to put--or not put--in our brains.