# data[].attributes.body
The most important thing I learned from horses is mutual trust. Very early on in life, I learned that horses sense your every insecurity – that whatever you experience within, you must act relaxed and with confidence. Being animals of prey, horses must be made to feel that there is no danger from which to escape. Your body language and voice, in fact your entire energy, must speak “all is well”.

I was practically brought up in the stables. My father was training trotting horses and he put me in a sulky on my own at age 11, behind our full sized horse Bosse Boy. The almost horizontal position and borrowed oversized yellow overalls aside, I (the wrinkly baby chicken) drove my favorite horse into the pouring rain and onto the muddy tracks and went for a full lap. I dared, not because I necessarily trusted my father's judgement that I was ready, but because I trusted the horse – and I knew he trusted me. He would listen to the slightest sound I made, feel the smallest tug of the reins. I had learned to sense the signs of fright in his body, and anticipated the side jumps as he avoided the bigger puddles or saw the white horse that he always felt uncomfortable around. I came back happy, in part because of what I myself had accomplished, but mostly because of the shared experience I had had with Bosse. We had struggled through the mud and monsoons together, as a two creature unit working in tandem. Despite our many differences, we had communicated and acted as a team, carrying each other.

# data[].attributes.body
From my cat I learned many things, but most importantly (and quite early) I learned that human language is not paramount in forming a special bond. Human language does at times create an additional barrier through which we are forced to navigate, or which need sometimes be brought down. Indeed, language plays a central role in Animal's People, as Animal uses it as a means to foreground his identity as an animal. But this of course presents a seemingly inescapable paradox: how to separate oneself from human beings by dint of the one thing that in many ways differentiates them from other beings, i.e. language?

# data[].attributes.body
I learned from a computer how perfect things can function without the human.
I learned from the clock the lesson that time doesn't exist just perpetual nows.
I learned from trees what it means to stand tall even if they cut your roots away and you are about to die.
l Iearned from birds even though pointless music can be so beautiful.
I learned from the sky how to be vast and free and that different clouds and winds can't touch my vast neverchanging nature.
I learned from the ocean how turbulent the surface can seem but consist of perfect stillness.
I learned from the iceberg how little we can see above the surface.
I learned from the Sun how to never stop giving energy to others.

# data[].attributes.headline
You have all put it so well, and have such a way with words. 

# data[].attributes.subject
You have all put it so well, and have such a way with words. 

# data[].attributes.body
I can only add that there is so much to learn from non-human lives, especially animals. Happiness and to enjoy the little things from dogs, wisdom and grief from elephants, companionship and to always work together from so many other animals. There are many examples, the animal world has shown us that there is so much we still need to learn from them.

# data[].attributes.body
And I hate google that doesn't even let me read what I have written before posting it. "My Octopus Teacher" is one of the best documentaries I have seen, and it shows a completely different masculinity than that which I was writing about.

(the author of the previous post)

# data[].attributes.body
The two of you that have posted comments: You have described it so well and beautifully! I don’t know what to write other than that non-human lives can have a lot to teach us humans, if we just let them. The problem is that we as a race is so alienated that we forget the way our lives are connected to theirs. (Have you seen the documentary “My Octopus teacher”? If not, I can recommend it. The man and the octopus get to know each other, and it is just amazing to see how they interact. )

# data[].attributes.body
Thank you! You certainly have a way with words, images and ideas. You've turned many of your observations of the non-human into scenes of instruction for the human. This is great stuff! Sofia

# data[].attributes.body
I learned about the violence of hegemonic masculinity from a sparrow. I didn't realise it when it happened. I was younger than 5. It's one of my first memories, and one of the clearest ones. I was staying at my grandmother's farm. She was living with an alcoholic boyfriend at that time, who eventually drank himself out of this world. He had a handheld BB gun that shot small cylindrical aluminium bullets. He let me hold the gun while he was behind me with his arms over mine (the reek of alcohol) aiming at and shooting bottles. I thought that was fun and one day he suggested something even more fun. A sparrow flew into the greenhouse and got trapped there, so he took me there and aimed. I remember being really excited. Even though I knew already that animals can feel hurt like me, sadistically enough, the excitement prevailed, and I didn't resist the old man. I don't think I ever saw him sober; he was probably at that stage where you have to drink to stay alive. Maybe that's why  alcohol didn't affect his coordination as much anymore. He was precise enough to hit a moving target. I hit that target too, the peak of excitement and feeling of triumph. The sparrow was still alive, helplessly flapping its wings in the dust of the dry soil of the greenhouse. I went and picked it up. This is the memory, the clearest moment of utmost intensity that stayed with me until today. The dying, trembling bird in my arms. The warm, red blood. The sticky coating of drying blood on my skin. The exhilaration that I shared with the old man transforming into utmost grief. The tears. I couldn’t continue to share the man’s joy, betrayed him and his teachings, by feeling the forbidden, shedding forbidden tears. I am forever thankful to that little bird.

# data[].attributes.body
From ants I’ve learned that en masse entities are cruel and single-minded, and they don’t even realize it. From spiders, of which I am horrified at a level that makes no sense, that webs are intriguing if not beautiful so long as you’re not the one stuck in them, and those that weave them have no care for your well-being. From the Hawk I’ve learned that people find spectacle in prey, that a cute rabbit is less so when it’s in a hawk’s talon, then its food. From the Raccoon that lived in my attic, I learned that every night can be a house party. From a Swan I learned that beauty and grace can be a facade for something much more violent. In Washington D.C I learned that for a rat every street is a banquet, and what’s small in the country is not necessarily small in the city. From the Animals in the Zoo I learned there are many kinds of prisons, that a cage is still a cage, regardless of what is painted on the walls. The pacing hyena at the Rotterdam Zoo, who over time has tread an infinite loop, taught me that insanity is found in all cages, however innovative they are said to be. From Yeast I’ve learned that sometimes a little sweetness goes a long way in making life worth living. From Peppers I’ve learned that appearances can be deceiving, that size is not a measure of intensity.