STILLNESS

Dear Friends, in putting out my last story about “loss,” I took a big risk and observed that most readers didn’t even want to touch the subject. I get it.

This story is also a risk, on the other end of the spectrum. I realize I’m putting myself out there again to be judged, yet my commitment to myself is to be authentic in these amber years. So here you have it. Feel free to comment on either story.

She stood directly in front of me as I sat on the salt block at the edge of her shed. She could smell the carrots that had appeared magically from my pocket moments earlier. When no more came out, she softly licked my hands, over and over and over. Finally, she stepped up into the shed and nosed in the hay behind me, looking for an orange surprise that might have found its way there.

As the wind blew around the sheds, within the shelter, was stillness. I basked in the warm sunshine and began to relax. Luna weighs over 1000 pounds and spooks easily, especially with unexpected sounds created by our gale force winds.

With her behind me, I was either learning a lesson in trust – or foolishness.

Quietly, she turned from the hay, edged close and began rubbing her face against my upper arm. She raised her head and yawned, many, many times. (This behavior is a way in which horses release tension.) Then she repeated the rubbing and the yawning, on the same part of my arm where there is a damaged tendon.

I just thought her eye itched from the dirt blowing in the wind.

Perhaps it was mutuality. But who knows?

I remained on my salt block and returned to breathing quietly, melting into the mystery of the connection we all share with our world.

After a time, I felt her warm breath beside my ear. I remained quiet, listening. As I continued to breathe and empty my mind, she leaned her chest in close until I could rest my head against her heart.

Her very big horse heart.

Tears began to flow as a deep, sadness welled up.  As I cried, she remained solidly behind me, inviting me to lean even more into her.  

“I’ve got your back”, she seemed to say.

 I reached behind me and caressed her legs and hooves with appreciation. While my mind, active again, was trying to figure out if she was telling me to stand up on my own legs.

(Ahh, the mind – always trying to make sense of magic and mystery)

Returning to my breath, I remained still. She edged closer, raised one front leg, and gently pressed her knee right in the center of my midback, beneath which lives the scar tissue in my lungs.

For what felt like a long time, she held it there.

Then, shifting her weight, she placed her foot down and simply withdrew her energy.

Our time together complete.

Magic? Mystery? Connection? Healing?