Dollar was rubbing his head on the old wooden gate. The supporting post from so many years gone by, wobbled loosely like a spinning top as it slows.
A friend rushed at him with voice forced and angry, arms flailing wildly and a hand grazing his head. At the same moment, a reminder of my own forgotten antics bounced quickly in and out of my mind. I felt the jolt of the sudden violence that sliced through the peacefulness of the herd and the sun and sky day.
There was a temporary disconnect from my gut while my mind googled for logical reasons that would defend her behavior —and my own in times past. Was she violating herself and this magnificent being only to protect my fence? Or was it just a power gig? I felt the breach in my unspoken agreement with the horses here that we treat each other with respect.
The startled Dollar finally moved sluggishly away not allowing her the satisfaction of a power flush. My heart found its way back to consciousness and without thought and without raising my voice, I spoke to my friend. No need to do it that way, I said. No need.
Replaying those words in my heart as if hearing them for the first time, I grew quiet and inward. A short while later, Dollar was back scratching his head on the gate. I looked toward him and the words came gently without hesitation. Dollar, no. Please don’t rub on the gate.
My words floated toward him turning his head in a kindly synchronicity. He walked away.
I was surprised.
But why are we?