a horse story
Shared live this past weekend with some lovely people. š
If I say āhorse girl,ā unless youāve never heard this label before, youāll think of however horse girls roll in whatever geography you live or come from. Even I, now an urban woman after a childhood of farm kid, will think of stables and barns and corrals. We had none of these, and that meant there may have been some ways our horses didnāt quite get cared for in some likely inconsequential ways, and hereās what it also meant - running wild. Becoming soul mates with an above average powerful animal in which, I think, we loved each other with our whole giant hearts. Have you ever had an animal many times your size follow you around like a puppy?Ā
His name was Senator Hiakers, which is the weird thing they do to horses who are āregistered,ā they give them dumb names. And when he hit the hidden culvert on the side of the road, it was the end. For him, for his life. For me, on the very cusp of coming into the woman I am now, an end too. We could talk about the developmental consequence of a loss like this at this point in becoming, which was real. There was consequence. But what Iām also aware of is how he carried me through the years when I likely needed him most, when the violence of my home and the level of control wielded and the deep deep deep misogyny tearing away at me was at its height and did he know? because I only had the faintest sense that all those rides around our square mile and beyond, that could feel routine or just what we did were keeping me intact enough somewhere inside where I needed it most.
Years later, I am becoming a psychic healer and exploring all the ways this work happens and I went to a session with a shaman, who was a white or at least white appearing woman, and who cares that now I would wonder what her actual lineage is and whether shaman is an appropriate thing to be called, and it could be, but itās also sometimes really not, who cares about these things sometimes when we look back at the imperfect ways we wander our way to something. She was truly lovely and gifted and when we talked and I happened to mention the loss and accompanying grief of losing my religion upon getting pregnant by surprise with my first daughter, she paused and looked at me with a look and said - This might sound weird (and I didnāt interrupt her to say that at that point in my explorations, there was probably absolutely nothing she could say that I would think was weird), she said - This might sound weird, but does your daughter have any fairy blood? And I said - Ha! She is so chock full of fairy blood, I doubt thereās room for any other kind, and she said - I ask because fairies donāt do well with organized religion. And this is truly the best explanation I have ever found for why, upon getting surprise pregnant with her, my connection to the Christian god, that had been my entire reason for being, or at least I thought it was, vanished instantly. Gone. Just like that. And I cried and wailed and searched for years and years and never got a single little bit of that Christian god back.Ā
Anyway. Why Iām actually talking about the shaman is that in our journey, where she drummed and I lay quiet, she found my horse, with me, my arms wrapped around him saying, I will never let you go. And she gently said, Itās important for you to let him go, but there is likely another way for you to have him with you. Heās a spirit now, so let him be a spirit friend to you. So for weeks I joined him on the spirit plane and cried and cried because being with him again was like being with pure love, and I, even but maybe especially to this day, just like every single one of us, need more pure love than we ever find in our human everyday lives, at least in this version of our world.
Recently, I realized I hadnāt thought of or spent time with Senator in spirit for a long time. I looked to see if he was still there and was surprised to find that he had gone, that he was once again in body and Iām not sure where or with who, I just get the faintest of impressions of a woman and a corral which I may very well be making up. Iāve been living in a city where owning horses is expensive and very constricted, but I wonder if one day when Iām living elsewhere and have the resources to invest in owning a horse, if weāll meet each other again. Wouldnāt that be something?Ā