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Equine Magic

Updated on July 21, 2016
Montana summer wildflowers
Montana summer wildflowers

A Tribute to Dusty

I sensed a new presence as I stepped out on the porch of my cabin in the western Montana mountains. As I cast my eye over the green landscape of blue spruce, douglas fir, with snow-topped mountains as backdrop in mid-summer, I spotted the three amigos, Dusty, Pedro, and Biscuit. They patiently waited by the weathered plank fence for horse cookies, smooshed up hay held together by molasses.

I strode over to the carport, retrieved a dozen cookies from the sealed barrel. The horsie delectables smelled like freshly mown grass.

As I approached the weathered fence, I gravitated towards Dusty, my old riding buddy. Horse heat radiated from his being and from his physical body, and that heady, earthy horse smell nourished my nostrils.

I reached over the old fence to pat and stroke his broad neck, damp from sweat brought on by romping in the summer heat. I savored another deep breath of horse scent and horse being.

Ancient energy here.

You of ancient herds who roamed deserts, mountains, forests. You who intimately knew freedom as you raced with your equine cousins as one body, one spirit.

You whom the Northern American Indian rode bareback at buffalo hunts, in battle against warring tribes, against conquering greed driven conquistadors and slaughtering Christian Europeans.

Dusty, I know not of your past owners. I know not of how many herds from which you have been wrenched, only to be forced into a new one.

Never have I forgotten a day in summer when you and Pedro lost one another. I detected within you deep yearning to keep him close for fear of being wrenched away once more, your broken spirit splintered further, your heart wounds ever bleeding.

You reared up and whinnied piteously, and Pedro yelped in reply. Pedro, your soulmate. Pedro, your family, your herd.

In our moment by the fence, I observe you in repose, at peace, your eyes closed as you rapturously crunch on your horse cookies.

Softly I stroke your neck and lightly run my fingers over your warm, velvety nose. A stillness reigns within you.

My breathing slows down. I only hear your breath and mine__and I feel your spirit within me and mine in yours.

I close my eyes.

We are one.

Horse and woman.

Woman and horse.

I am Horse Woman.

You are Woman Horse.

We are Spirit.

We are One for Eternity.

by Nature Dancer on July 21, 2016


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