TheBanyanTree: Herds and other interesting behavior

[NancyIee at aol.com]

Now that I have horses again, I become reaccquainted with the "herd" 
mentality. I watch them drift over the pasture, seemingly to graze alone, yet always 
together. If there is one to be kept in its stall while the others are turned 
loose into the pasture, the one alone will whinny, then go about it's own 
business, taking a break every now and then to whinny again, to be answered by one 
or more out in the grass.

I am reminded of my own behavior. I am comfortable being alone. I have 
projects that are one-person endeavors, and I go about them in comfort. Yet, every 
now and then I take a break to "whinny": a call to a friend, checking up on one 
of the kids, a call to a repair person to make an appointment, to go out for 
the mail and wave at a neighbor.

Whether in a relationship or not, there seems that need to make contact, even 
among those who profess hating crowds and parties, waiting for traffic lights 
or in line for a movie or a table at a restaurant. They shudder and say 
they'd rather be at home, alone.  Yet, do they "whinny"?  Do they substitute 
television for real-life company, gaining some feeling of connection through the 
tube that doesn't care? Do they make calls to other people for "information" on 
the pretext of need but more for the connection?  Do intense people alone write 
and make up their own worlds and thus live there with the invented characters?

Even uncommunicative men find others of like mind and they go fishing 
together, or play golf, perhaps not saying ten words during the outing, but making 
that contact, nonetheless.  Like horses grazing, apart yet together.

There is a very elderly woman living near me, a century of age, whose only 
real connection to the world is her daily housekeeper and the occasional 
hairdresser or doctor. She hates living alone. Her husband is long gone, her children 
are retired themselves and far away. All her lifelong friends are dead, and 
she doesn't like her neighbors. Yet, she connects several times a day when she 
goes out to scold the children, call about the barking dog, fuss if their 
company parks on a blade of grass on her lawn. I go to visit her now and then, and 
she talks about the war.  Not Iraq, nor Desert Storm nor Viet Nam. Her 
history goes back to WWII; her husband was a general. Her connection is the past, 
and anyone visiting her helps her relive a time when she was part of a herd.

Today I am alone.  I went out to see the horses and watched their loose 
formation as they roamed through the grass. They drifted to the pond where, in 
turn, they each drank. Then wandered away again. Never totally together, yet never 
really apart. A herd.

I enjoy my time alone, but now, you see, I came in to write it down for you.

NancyLee