When your horse follows you without being asked, when he rubs his head on yours, and when you look at him and feel a tingle down your spine…you know you are loved.
In the journey of life, who you travel with can be more important than your destination. Not all of us can do great things, but we can do small things with great love.
I have seen things so beautiful they have brought tears to my eyes. Yet none of them can match the gracefulness and beauty of a horse running free.
They knows when you’re happy. They knows when you’re sad. They knows when you’re confident. And they always knows when you have treats!
“When I hear somebody talk about a horse or cow being stupid; I figure it’s a sure sign that the animal has somehow outfoxed them” ~ Tom Dorrance
“Where in this wide world can man find nobility without pride, friendship without envy, or beauty without vanity? Where grace is served with muscle, and strength with gentleness. There is nothing so powerful, nothing less violent. There is nothing so quick, nothing more patient.”
A horse is the projection of peoples’ dreams about themselves – strong, powerful, beautiful – and it has the capability of giving us escape from our mundane existence.
Often, I am overwhelmed with love for my horses, and in truth I sometimes think it is their love for me that soothes my aching soul.
Somewhere in time's own space, there must be some sweet pastured place
Where creeks sing on and tall trees grow, some paradise where the horses go;
For, by the love that guides my pen, I know great horses live again. Stanley Harrison
We stripped her shoes and led her to the field out from the pen
She seemed bemused when I whispered "go and be a horse again"
She’d run the fence and whinnie to my waves as daylight passed
She seemed to sense, the lope along the hill had been our last.
There’s not a near or far horizon left for us to cross
For nearly fifteen years we roamed the heather moor and border moss
To sit astride the graceful power and beauty of this mare
Filled me with pride and drove away life’s weariness and care.
She could be wilful, horsemen say they have their mareish days
She taught me skilful, calm and quiet patience with her ways
A kindly eye, dark chestnut with a Shire pedigree
She seemed to try to find and bring the brave out in me.
There’s some would say, ‘a horse is just a servant or a slave’
But to this day I’m humbled by the privilege she gave
No more I’ll climb and mount the saddle on her back
To feel sublime, and turn her bonnie head towards the track.
As cruel time unfolds the fates that have to be revealed
The hill I climb and view with saddened eyes the empty field
If there are plains where man and horse may once again unite
I’ll take the reins and ride into the dying of the light.
Thanks to Archie for these wonderful words, modified for Holly.
Original poem here...