Introduction to Esperanto human mule

A survival communication

Equines and other mammals living in groups have developed their own communication, a subtle, silent way of communicating, all while remaining vigilant. Feeding a mass of 200 to 700 kg on nothing but grass takes time! There's no point in chatting with your nose in the air: you have to eat while keeping an eye on your surroundings, on the lookout for the slightest sign.

A simple change in attitude, a muscle tension, a micro-emotion... and the entire herd is alert. We see it in some documentaries: a sated lioness crosses a group of zebras, no one moves. A few days later, the same lioness, hungry, passes by again. This time, there's panic. Her body has spoken, despite herself.

A sixth sense... not so magical

And us? We've retained a vestige of this archaic sensitivity. We feel it when someone looks at us or when someone "rings a bell." This famous "sixth sense" is nothing supernatural: it's a keen reading of the body and intention, stemming from our hunter-gatherer past.

Our archaic brain, via the amygdala (the emotional center), detects inconsistencies before we even become aware of them.

When the mule looks at us...

The mule doesn't just look: it reads, it captures our tensions, our contradictions, our real intentions. If what we show on the outside doesn't correspond to what we feel inside, it knows it.

The interaction then becomes a silent mirror of our own emotional coherence.

Two Readers of Silence

This is where the human-mule relationship becomes fascinating: two species, one expert in silent reading, and the other one that has somewhat forgotten it, learning to read each other.

Brain Waves: A User's Guide

The human brain operates in waves: – Beta (13–30 Hz): mental activity, reflection, stress – Alpha (8–13 Hz): calm, alert, relaxed, present

Horses, on the other hand, naturally live in alpha waves when they are serene. Present to themselves, they perceive what cannot be seen: intention, tension, incoherence.

While for humans, beta waves represent our normal daily functioning, for equines they are a function of excitement, fear, and play.

Mumule, that great analyst

But be careful: the mule is not a horse. She's everything more: more astute, more lucid, more vigilant. Beneath her introverted exterior, she's a true human ethologist.

And she sets her own conditions:

Are you trustworthy? Can she rely on you for shared decisions? Do you have your degrees... and your psychoanalysis bills?

For her, we bipeds are often too talkative, too vague, too incoherent. So Mumule stays in her field. Alone. But... she gets bored. So sometimes, she plays along—for a scratch, or a treat.

Self-work: mandatory

These big-eared geniuses force us to work on ourselves.

Arrive relaxed. When humans also shift into alpha waves (through breathing, presence, relaxation), connection becomes possible.

"Less mind. More body."

Being aligned between what you feel and what you ask for.

"Get in the van, or not."

Yes, Mumule knows how to get in the van. She learned, but today, she's not riding! Why? Because your body is saying something else. It's saying: stress, fear, tension.

And Mumule thinks: something's fishy, ​​I'm not riding, seriously.

You have the right—and even the duty—to tell her:

"Today, Mumule, I'm sad. Tired. Tense. Angry. We're just going to stay here together and do nothing."

And Mumule will say: Yes... A coherent human, finally!

Mule-speak: quite an art

When you speak to a mule, you have to be precise. No theatrical gestures, no tense voice; ideally, not even speaking, all those words make a deafening noise. A blank face. A finger on the seam of her pants. A well-placed look.

And then... it works.

And sometimes it's still good to swear; she'll try to understand you, feeling that you're authentically coherent in your request...

Not easy, eh? 😅