This picture I took, on my horse's birthday (and shortly after a long weekend at the Minnesota Horse Expo), made me stop and think about all the ways we humans interact with the equines in our lives, how many things we ask them to be and do, and how grateful I am to have a horse in my life.
I don't really like to admit how much I depend on my horse to be my muse, my confidante and even my shrink. When I am feeling burdened by indecision, anger or sorrow, or when I am grieving or searching for the "why" of something, it is often my horse's company I seek.
Sounds crazy, yet I know horse people understand. Do horses have a special understanding of the complexities of human suffering? I don't know. Sometimes they seem to be good mirrors, reflecting back to us the powerful emotions we are projecting, and sometimes they seem patient, non-judgmental listeners to our unspoken hopes and fears...
To my horse:
"Here I am again, at your gate (damaged creature that I am) seeking a holy communion older than written history. Here I am, calling your name, your honest eyes see right through me. Yet still you come, willingly, from your temple of hay to greet me as though I was the only thing in the world you wanted. You breathe me in, and in return my senses are flooded with the fragrances of last summer's green grass and sun-warmed fur. Words escape me, and you lower your head and take my lead in the ancient horse-human dance that stops time, if just for a while.
You carry me on your wide, goddess-shaped back, and you carry my secret sorrows, too. For a little while I am rocked into a wordless bliss in the leather cradle of our old western saddle. But that vulture, Time, circles back around, casting a sorrow-shaped shadow, and the spell is broken: human and horse must part at the gate. The escaped words return and I ineptly express my gratitude, human-style. I leave, carrying my burdens with me as I go. Yet somehow I feel lighter, strengthened by our time together...
who, indeed, is the "beast of burden"?
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