Journey On

Journey is juxtaposition.  Seriously.   She can have the neurotic angst of a woman in need of anxiolytics, or the placid calm of the one who already did.  She can be both in the space of one neural synapse leaping to another. She is queen in “the kingdom of mare.” She is a dedicated student of remarkable evasive tactic, yet does not have the work ethic to stay that course.   Yet…there is so much more right than wrong.  In my hands I've been gifted with nearly raw clay, ready to be shaped, and turned, and fired to mirror finish.  My hands will direct that process if only I steady the storm inside.  You see…all my life, from my earliest memory  my desire was HORSE.  Not people.   Not place.  Just simply HORSE.   Having been denied that gift for the greater part of a lifetime, I so often feel an urgency to do something.  In so doing my joy is pushed rudely into the future, always elusive, like grasping at smoke.  You can grasp at smoke forever and never gain tangible hold.  All the while burning brightly beneath is a fire of brilliant color, if you dare only to release the grasping hand, stop, and look down into the flames.  In this new year, new horse, new season, of fresh possibility I recognized that Journey stood still for her booting last ride.  She wasn’t so good about those hooves when she first came home.  She did not trust me that much!  But as I gently rocked on those front hoof boots, striking the toe with the mallet, and adjusting the Velcro strapping I sat each hoof down gently and was struck with how effortless that was.  Good girl Journey!  I realized how far we have come in this short five months.  She is loading pretty darned good! That our last ride on our training course was flawless for 12.5 miles on a trail she’s been down only once before, and this the first time totally solo.  I was struck by how she stands and does not walk away when I carry the halter out to the field, and she sticks her little nose right on in!  Sometimes I have to take myself aside:  “Don’t get mad.  Don’t get frustrated.  Slow down.  There is no race. THERE IS NO RACE.  There is no finish line. There is only this very moment in time.  Breathe. Remember the crooked line of success. “

A poignant reminder to myself.  ~ E.G.