7 Things I Learned from a Family of Freaking Goats

Photo by BAILEY MAHON on Unsplash

When a family of goats started showing up a couple of hundred feet from my front door to graze on my lawn, it was flat “no” for me. Most of my family and friends thought it was no big deal; my husband appreciated them clipping the lawn. And as new country-dwellers, maybe goats are just a part of our unique landscape. But from jump, it wasn’t only about the goats. It was wrong that someone would allow their livestock — a half dozen in varying sizes — to roam off their property and onto mine day after day.

I peered through my front door at the munchie creature convoy, fully invested in them as a problem rid. The goats’ presence occupied my mental space. Yet, their indifference to mine mirrored their owner’s (my neighbor) lack of response to my calls. It all registered as deep grinding agitation in my gut. I felt antagonized, disempowered, walked on. I was seething, and my shrubs were toast. These critters were invading my right to control my environment. Resentment and pre-occupation were setting in.

In a giant socio-political leap, I found myself relating to a Karen. To be clear, I recognize the implausibility — and risk — of a Black woman laying claim to the Karen vibe. It’s a pattern that represents, among other things, the weaponization of social status — white woman. It has wounded Black women and men since the inception of this nation. Countless times, fatally so. There is zero room to make light of that. Without question, the configuration of American society has never been to grant Karen influence to someone like me, a woman of color. We are powerful, absolutely. But for centuries, our power was siphoned by others for others through our ability to help build the nation and its economy, our capacity to provide for its inhabitants, and the survival instinct to remain agreeable. So, Karen drama is not to be confused with Kizzy trauma. However, the energy underlying both is real. It’s the Victim archetypal energy pattern.

Archetypal energies have a long-standing and prevalent presence across the human experience. There is a plethora of them. Many of which we intuitively understand but only become aware of in our interactions when we put their patterns and characteristics in context with a word. For example, the words monk, clown, or snake evoke a particular image. If we noted that a person was behaving with the energy of a snake, few would misunderstand.

The Victim is one of the four major survival archetypes (along with the Child, Saboteur, and Prostitute) described by spiritual teacher and intuitive Carolyn Myss in her seminal work, Sacred Contracts (2002). In its enlightened form, the Victim energy is about becoming empowered to take responsibility for oneself. It harnesses how we have felt (and further fear) injury by circumstances outside our control. It is instrumental to evolving our capacity to build boundaries for the acts of our soul — and acts against it. In the light, the Victim energy looks like the ability to stand in the face of a threat as a compassionate warrior, keeping pillagers out but unwilling to pillage another. However, the shadow Victim archetype is determined to help us survive. It may protect us from harm, no matter the cost to others or ourselves. Or it might influence us to forfeit our power and settle into a story of victimhood. Either way, the trade-off in these transactions is personal power.

Let’s agree that personal power is not about controlling our external environment. It’s about our evolution towards self-awareness, self-mastery, inner harmony, unity, and spiritual liberation. It’s inner calm and balance in the face of external challenges. Ideally, archetypes can help us manage by drawing our attention within to recognize the subtle influences underlying our thoughts or actions. With awareness, we can genuinely determine how we want to be as we navigate experiences, including relating to ourselves, others, and our world. In this capacity, we develop the spiritual strength to make decisions that honor the integrity of our souls.

“Your wellness and your illness, your joy and your misery come from within. If you want wellbeing, it is time to turn inward.” Sadhguru

Managing the inner condition is vital because unchecked underlying perspectives lead to mental, emotional, and spiritual turmoil. Palliative care doctor, Michael Kearney, MD., calls this inner discord “soul pain” and asserts in his book Mortally Wounded (2007) that it may be at the root of many physical diseases. In my case, operating through shadow Victim energy, I quickly devolved into discord. I waged war in my imagination even though there was no genuine risk of anyone overpowering me in real-time. I found myself pacing back and forth to the window, a coffee mug gripped in my right hand, reinforced by my left, and resting on my bosom like a projectile. My jaws were clenched, eyes squinted, and the index finger on my left hand tapped up and down. It seemed to be keeping time as I contemplated my next move to defend against the gall of my neighbor and these damned goats in my yard.

The fog of entitlement to be rid of the invaders had me breathing into my chest, sharp and shallow — not into my belly, deep and reassuring. I was out of touch with my typical worldview. I’m usually more open to experience, to letting things unfold, appreciative of the impersonal nature of the details of my life. Preferring to assume benevolence, I’m usually pretty Kumbaya. But at that moment, this was a personal attack, and I was on guard.

I narrated a story in my mind about the owner’s disrespect towards my family and our private property. He was un-neighborly as far as I was concerned. I felt hostile towards the goats. I felt at a loss for a resolution through him, so I called animal control. They threw the problem back in my lap by telling me we could “put them down.” No thanks to killing six goats in my front yard. Yet, mental aggression toward the goats and their owner coursed through my body. This situation was an attack on my rights. I even questioned our wisdom in moving out of our element and into the country.

Honestly, all of that was the least of it. None of that had any real

significance. And I realized it when a compassionate question from one of my closest spiritual companions brought me to a screeching creative pause.

I pulled into my driveway one afternoon while we talked on the phone. When I saw the goats again, and they still didn’t flinch at my presence, I went into mental, emotional, and spiritual overdrive. I seem to have developed a trigger. Half joking and half serious, I straddled the sanity of knowing how hilarious it all was and the insanity of being beside myself with frustration. And then, my girl hit me with the light. My spiritual companion and friend of over 30 years had turned the camera around on me.

What are the goats here to teach you? She asked. I snapped out of the spell. I hopped off the crazy train and onto the train of deep contemplation. I went inward to feel and reflect. How does this conflict support my life? From it, what might I glean?

How had I not managed to think about this before now? I supposed the hue of victimhood blinded me. Nevertheless, there I was. I was ready to learn, prepared to see, and willing to get free.

Here are seven things I learn from those fucking goats:

1. The goats (like every relationship and experience) are here to help me master my power to shape the inner condition of my life.

2. Presuming the ill-will of and being pissed-the-fuck-off at the goats’ owner is only one optional response. Another is deferring judgment (this one is more freeing).

3. Internalizing the neighbor’s behavior as an intention to disregard my life, liberty, and pursuit of private property is just a story. I made it up, and I don’t have to operate from that perspective.

4. Harboring hostility for six creatures acting on survival instinct and, maybe, pleasure-seeking is useless. (They’re goats, for crying out loud).

5. Resolving the actual problem — a displaced herd of animals — requires no emotional attachment.

6. I can be at peace with the problem and seek to solve it simultaneously.

7. No matter the lessons, learning, and growth opportunity, reasonably speaking, the goats still have to go. I will find a solution.

Woosah. That feels much better.

This is what it looks like when we recognize archetypal energy patterns and see them in action. We can decide how we will navigate. We can maintain the integrity of our souls. Victim archetypal energy doesn’t have to manifest as Karen behavior. It doesn’t have to look like an angry mob destroying a government building because an election didn’t go the way they wanted. Nor does it have to look like a homeowner staring out the window tempted to lob a coffee mug at a herd of goats. Instead, we can query what our situation could be showing us and bring what’s in the shadow into the light.

I did eventually speak with my neighbor. It turns out he is not awful. The goats were the bane of his existence as they had become mine. He explained his struggle to keep them confined; apparently, they were just too intelligent. He’d be surrendering them soon, he said. He offered to pay for the shrubs. Instead, I countered, let’s simply agree to be neighbors. He thought that was a good deal.

Now, he never explained why he had avoided my calls for several weeks. However, since he called a few evenings later wondering if I had seen his goats, my yard was likely only one of his problems. And, because I’m good at making up stories, it’s easy to believe that without having a solution to such a hideous problem (you know, the old my-goats-are-eating-my-neighbors’-property-problem), it was one he would rather have avoided. Many people are willing to avoid conflict at all costs. It’s a long-standing typical pattern found within the human psyche, no? So, yes, he ignored me for a while. But in the spirit of what unites us as human beings — maybe some other archetypal pattern, he gets a pass. Because, yes, his act was whack, but the energy is real.

Be free. Love, Peace.