Tragic events, as unbearably painful as they may be at the time, often contain the seeds of something that can flourish and grow into things of unspeakable beauty. I talk from personal experience, says author of ‘Being With Cows’ Dave Mountjoy.
When a beloved brother took his own life in the autumn of 2015, my world simply crumbled around me. The stark, leafless trees and grey-washed skies so typical of that season reflected the very cold, lifeless inner landscape in which I walked following the days of his death.
Like the clouds that smothered our farm in the foothills of the French Pyrenees, the grief and sense of loss hung heavy in the air. That the sun still shone above the blanket of sometime despair was of little or no relevance. It seemed that nothing could brighten what had become an increasingly gloomy outlook, devoid of even the smallest trace of happiness.
But then I came home to the cows. Six earthy bundles of furry forgiveness, grounded, available and ready to nudge me weeping and wailing into a deep and lasting acceptance.
Returning to the farm after my brother’s funeral, I went straight to the patch of scrubby woodland where I’d last seen them several weeks before. When they exploded out of a stand of oak, careering down the slope in response to my call, the tears poured rain-like to the ground. Great fat shining drops of release, of pent-up grief and a sickly sense of brotherly homesickness.
But then I came home to the cows. Six earthy bundles of furry forgiveness, grounded, available and ready to nudge me weeping and wailing into a deep and lasting acceptance.
For several minutes, all notion of pain just gently slipped away. Buffeted by their very own version of tough love, rasped by their file-like tongues, they told me in no uncertain terms that all was actually ok, perfectly fine exactly as it was, as Life itself had made it.
In the weeks and months that followed those ultimately tender moments, the Galloways and locally native Casta carried me right through those layers of grief and loss, leading me ever-deeper into a hitherto unknown world of strength and stability.
And out of such a transformative period, right from the heart-centre of the herd, came Cowfulness. I loved it straightaway, the most perfect summing up in a single word of all that I was experiencing with the Casta and Galloways. Its meaning? Well, it roughly translates into ‘being in a state of mindfulness in the presence of cows’.
“The Galloways and locally native Casta carried me right through those layers of grief and loss”
It’s not so complicated really. In fact, it is the essence of simplicity. It just means being attentive, that’s all, alive to every moment, whatever that brings, in their company. I suppose it could be said to be a form of surrender, letting go of the desire to control, to dominate or even decide what’s best and just learning to listen to what they themselves are telling me.
It also, most crucially, encompasses a very tangible sense of mutual respect and the cultivating, certainly from my side at least, of a genuine and what feels like everlasting depth of gratitude.
My gratefulness [except when they trample the fences, again!] knows no bounds. Simply by being themselves, their natural allegiance to harmony an unshakeable part of their make-up, they have gifted me a glimpse into a world of unruffled steadiness.
Simply by being themselves, their natural allegiance to harmony an unshakeable part of their make-up, they have gifted me a glimpse into a world of unruffled steadiness.
As far as I’m concerned, Cowfulness is their gift to the world. When they are respected for the beautiful creatures that they are, allowed to express their full range of natural behaviour and honoured for the way in which they can guide us into stability, their capacity to promote a very wholesome sense of wellbeing runs very deep indeed.
And it’s all so wonderfully effortless. Yes, it takes commitment, a willingness to trust in their innate ability to respond to what many of the hill-farmers here in The Pyrenees refer to as ‘doucer’. Softness is the key to this patient approach that in the end brings such heartfelt rewards.
Being With Cows by Dave Mountjoy is published by Bedford Square, £18.99 in hardback. For more information about the retreats visit www.beingwithcows.com
Words: Dave Mountjoy beingwithcows.com/dave-mountjoy
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- “I can feel the spirituality of the farm”. Meditating farmer embraces nature for land and mental health
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- 7 simple ways to connect with nature and improve wellbeing