12/17/2023
My horse’s coat is thick and fuzzy for winter. And he has rolled in mud. There are stiff dongles in his mane, caked layers on his hocks. It takes me ages to make any headway. But he is grateful when I get in there behind his ear with the curry comb. He lowers his head to give me better access.
It is a challenging ride. Even at 23, he is not easy. He will never be easy. It’s not in him to relax and turn off his thoughts. He is emotional. He is energetic. He feels way too much. Sensation overwhelms him. All I can do is try to help.
I often don’t know if I get it right. But today, when I dismount, he swings his huge, gentle head around. He wuffs into my shirt. I hold still for a moment. I still my body. I still my thoughts. I let myself be. Be with him. Not asking. Not telling. Just existing with this other soul I know so well.
He is not human and yet he is no less for that. In fact, I often think he is more.