Complacency will come back to bite you in the ass, every single time. It's been a difficult couple of months . I feel tired, spent, done. I'm impatient. I'm owly. I have cared little for others or their experiences, as my own have taken the front seat in my mind and I have been, if not overwhelmed, certainly preoccupied. I haven't been a good friend, sister, daughter, wife, human being. So mired, was I, in this muck of self absorption that I couldn't see past my own nose. My grandmother used to say that and I never truly understood what that meant. How unfortunate, the person who couldn't see beyond his or her nose, I thought, quite literally, because it wasn't very darn far. How would such a person navigate through life? Indeed, now that I am much (much) older, and able to appreciate metaphor, I ask the same question: How does such a person navigate through life? Those in my life, who have been at the least, self absorbed, and at the most, narcissistic, have been the ones who both inspired the most anger in me, and also the most fervent need to be noticed, to be loved, to be acknowledged. This was of course, the perfect example of futility. But all of that is in the past. Perhaps lately I have behaved similarly.
I'm not good at being confused, or at lacking control, so I have spent a lot of time, lately, at the barn with Lucy and Magnum. Horses make sense, in a complicated way. Something about the ritual of grooming, tacking up, working, riding, always in that order helped me to feel some calm. And then... Boston. More bombs. More lives lost, more lives changed forever. It's a very dark place, or it can be. I've continued taking trips to the barn, and I've taken my camera along. For the past two weeks (before Boston and since) I have made a point of taking a few shots each day I visit. I've captured some good barn cat shots, some decent people images, and of course some horse photos. These days have been a bright spot in an otherwise difficult time.
Today I worked my horses. I gave them molasses treats and let them slobber all over my hands. I braided Magnum's mane, I let Lucy free-lunge in the arena... wow what an incredible connection it is to just speak quietly and have a half-ton animal respond as if she is connected to me by an invisible line. We're just getting the hang of this, free-lunge thing, Lucy and I. It is, if I must say so myself, quite spectacular. When I was done, horses were cooled and fed, I cracked a beer and visited with other horse-owners. It is a tired-yet-accomplished feeling. There is a camraderie, much like among snowmobilers, bikers, or boaters. The difference is, though, horses are not machines, and one must earn trust and develop relationships.
I made my way back to the arena and watched this little girl ride her giant horse. The girl is young, the horse is old. The girl looks at the horse the same way I looked at my first horse, with eyes full of stars and love and hope. This tiny little girl rode this very tall horse around and around the arena, walking, trotting, turning circles. This small horsewoman has done it a hundred times before, and today, like every day she rides, she was breathless with excitement, stopping the horse periodically to exclaim her love and to lean over to hug the horse's neck. Priceless. I remember feeling that way, when I was young. I remember feeling like no troubles were bigger than getting on my horse and riding out. I felt the heaviness lifting as I watched her.
I spoke with this young professional; I asked if I could photograph her and her beautiful horse. She said, of course I could. I took many photographs of her and the horse. This one is my favorite. I love it because her helmet has fallen down over her eyes, and while her eyes are quite beautiful, I feel this photo perfectly captures the relationship between tiny kid and giant horse. I laughed out loud, as I was photographing her. My eyes got a little prickly. I felt, for just a moment, that breathless rush the little girl was feeling. Before bombs. Before fear. Before sadness. Pure joy.
The horse's name? "Magic". Of course it is. Magic exists.
No comments:
Post a Comment