Like finding a water bucket in hell, it’s useless to even look. “For what”? You may ask!
To sit upon my horse and allow my eyes to drink the scenery, and allow my soul to
become one with nature. The mystery of a wood at dusk.
The powers of darkness play dreadful tricks in a land of enchantment where the spirits are not at peace, amongst the branches they wail and moan, and tales are told of demons in this land of mist and rain. And yet, I feel a deep tranquility whenever going there and I am aware of a strange privilege – I cannot describe it.
In truth, I can say to soften the reality it feels much more relaxing when the sun is shining.
I awoke in exactly the same spot as I had fallen. My horse was grazing nearby,the thick undergrowth had softened my fall where the mare had slipped, fortunately my pride was the only pain between us. I tried to focus my scratched eyelids upon a distant tree. Then I recalled in relief, I had been dreaming. And in the way of dreams, once awake they take no time to dissolve. I had already lost the subject of my dreaming. I think ! I lay there for a short while just allowing my head to clear and watch her ‘lady’ ship, (my mare) to continue her munching. A man came along with his dog and asked if I was all right. Kind of him to ask. “ Won’t your horse run away”? he also asked. “No! I answered with certainty, adding as an afterthought.
“Were bonded”. He smiled at me as one does a mental patient, and retreated. I’m thinking, to myself, Is there any point in attempting to explain something. That guy is looking at the horse as merely an animal. Like the farmer who sees a cow as an economic unit. We all see the same thing but in a very different way. I see a cow heading for the milking parlor at the speed of a sloth on valium and think to myself.
There goes a cow, right. ?
This animal beside me is a companion – by definition, an associate, a comrade. my pet. Do we consider our horses as being – a pet?
I like to think my horse and I have a mutual interest. Can’t think why it would want to have anything to do with me in particular though!
I had used the word – bonded – the word sounds nice. It’s a much-used word these days- bonded. Folding my hands as a pillow beneath my head I lay there staring upwards at a drifting cloud, thinking, dreaming of Pegasus. When I have time; I like to fantasise,make up stories. When I’m really old I shall canter in the clouds.
Bonding is built on genuine respect, I think.? To understand one another and realise when there is something missing. You know each other and owe each other.
I swear that horse was laughing at me.
Adios and may the horse be with you.
The Rambling Man – Garry Goodfellow
