Becoming Home: The Language of Horses

When I arrived last night, I could see 3 horses on the hill, and 2 in the flat marshy area. Immediately, those in the upper pasture disappeared behind trees on their way down the hill to join the others as they headed for the barn! I stood watching them with some nervous anticipation, still learning to trust. What would I find? Dollar’s weight, Mariah’s weight, Kaheka’s weight, Amoura’s weight and lameness issues, and Shaman’s hooves.

Here is what I experienced. Shaman with hoof issues over the years, was happily prancing around as the herd edged closer to me across the marshy pasture. He was expressing a happy enthusiasm as the herd merged together. Amoura with a lameness challenge, from afar looked like a photo I had of her in midair that had come to life. She was dancing across the pasture with her head turned toward the barn and a huge smile on her face, her countenance sparkling with anticipation of all of us being together again as the movement headed homeward.

What a bright homecoming for all of us. Shaman so comfortable in his feet, Amoura with decent weight and comfortable in her body. Kaheka’s weight was in the middle, a little on the thin side which tends to be his thoroughbred status quo. Dollar and Mariah are both too thin, and we will fix that, but our inner connection was deep.

Shaman all the while back at the barn was extremely affectionate. He was thanking me for posting the stories. In years gone by, Shaman’s hooves would heal when I posted the horses’ stories for the public. It was amazing! I am their advocate; it is their stories I tell.

Today he is thanking me for preventing his discomfort this time around by my new commitment to living our lives together in a way that I have postponed for the last 10 years, hanging out with them, writing and sharing their stories, and moving forward with new life as in the Mary Oliver poem. We are becoming home.

The Journey
One day you finally knew
what you had to do, and began,
though the voices around you
kept shouting
their bad advice–
though the whole house
began to tremble
and you felt the old tug
at your ankles.
“Mend my life!
each voice cried
But you didn’t stop.
You knew what you had to do,
though the wind pried
with its stiff fingers
at the very foundations,
though their melancholy
was terrible.
It was already late
enough, and a wild night,
and the road full of fallen
branches and stones.
But little by little,
as you left the voices behind,
the stars began to burn
through the sheets of clouds,
and there was a new voice
which you slowly
recognized as your own,
that kept you company
as you strode deeper and deeper
into the world,
determined to do
the only thing you could do–
determined to save
the only life you could save.
-by Mary Oliver

4 thoughts on “Becoming Home: The Language of Horses

  1. Beverly thank you for your generous offerings here a work of love and depth- such beautiful writing of your observations and experiences- delicate and rich multi level artistry! Are you living in Point Arena near the horses? How may I contact you? Are you offering drawing classes? Thank you, Love, Deborah

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    1. Oh Deborah, Hope you got my email. Thank you for such a lovely, and heart warming response. Haven’t planned a drawing class yet…but maybe.

      Like

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