There is a thing I want more than anything in the world, that makes my heart literally feel as if it is melting inside me. My ideal life is full of them, running, grazing, lying under a warm summer sun. My heart feels full when I am close to horses.
Helen Thompson said that “In riding a horse we borrow freedom.” I have found this to be profoundly true. Horses are not what most people think. Even most “equestrian” people usually don’t fully understand what their horse truly is. My experience with horses and people who thought they understood them started when I was four. Over twelve years of practically living at the barn I saw and learned a lot about how to ride, how to groom, how to look good in a show ring. Years later, I have come to understand that success in competition is not an indication of good horseman (or -woman) -ship. But more on that in another post. I think that the most essential part of it I learned from the horse himself.
Somehow horses are uniquely suited to be excellent teachers to us humans about the most important parts of our humanity. You cannot fool a horse with the facades that succeed in convincing other people that you are something you’re actually not. Horses are far too honest to let you lie to yourself about such things, let alone lie to them. If you are not up front with a horse, and therefore with yourself, about who you are he will most likely do you the favor of showing you.
There was one horse in particular who taught me more than I could ever repay him for. His name was Harmony and we were inseparable. I can remember during one riding lesson, the instructor asked us to jump a fence that to me looked impossible. I had never jumped that high and I was so terrified that I pulled up in the middle of the course, shaking and on the verge of tears. Harmony felt it, I’m sure. He knew I was petrified. But I think he also knew that I needed to overcome this obstacle, and that deep down, I really wanted to. The instructor pushed me to keep going. With all the other kids watching, the battle between my fear and surrounding pressure to perform up to par felt like it could swallow me and my pony whole. But in that moment I had forgotten about the courage of my friend. When he sensed I was ready, Harmony cantered steadily toward the fence, gathered himself, and carried me soaring over the jump. He made sure he was balanced directly underneath me so I knew we were doing this together, meeting the challenge, defeating the fear monster. Somewhere over the space of that fence all my fear evaporated. His courage became mine. All I felt was freedom.
I never owned Harmony in the sense that we paid money for him and had a piece of paper to say he was mine. But it was obvious to everyone that we belonged. Ultimately, money was the obstical that took him away from me when the owner of the barn sold him to another stable. The day we pulled up and I saw the trailer parked near the barn, I could not even bring myself to get out of the car. “Do you just want to go?” my mom asked quietly. I nodded, tears already streaming. Although I rode several more years at that barn, for me there was never another horse to equal him.
When I was young and asked what I wanted for Christmas, I really did say “a pony.” (Usually I still do). One day soon I will have horses of my own. My greatest desire is to rescue as many as I can from abuse, neglect and worse. They have given so much to humans, especially this one. I have indeed borrowed freedom from them. In my heart I am compelled to return it a hundredfold.
“There are unknown worlds of knowledge in brutes; and whenever you mark a horse, or a dog, with a peculiarly mild, calm, deep-seated eye, be sure he is an Aristotle or a Kant, tranquilly speculating upon the mysteries in man. No philosophers so thoroughly comprehend us as dogs and horses. They see through us at a glance…But there is a touch of divinity even in brutes, and a special halo about a horse, that should forever exempt him from indignities.”
~ Herman Melville
