spam and horse-medicine. (not related)

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[stag_icon icon="quote-left" url="" size="50px" new_window="no"]If my problem was a Death Star, this article is a photon todpore. [stag_icon icon="quote-right" url="" size="50px" new_window="no"]

{found in my spam queue....among other chuckle-worthy gems. a photon todpore, you say?}

anyway. :)

autumn is making every attempt to inhabit my little patch, while summer hangs about like a house-guest that's far past her welcome. we go from sharp, frosty mornings to glorious warmth and windows flung wide. i'm loathe to put the garden to bed just because the calendar says so -- my roses are in state of renewed vigour and the calendula that made such a poor showing during the heat of summer is reveling in the cooler temperatures.  i'm balancing harvesting it for my potions with leaving it for the straggling bee people that are still out and about.

it's my perfect weather.  the ragweed has stopped spewing odious pollen into the air and the biting insects have - for the most part - gone toes-up. so, in other words, a marvelous time to be outdoors.

 

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i spent a moste excellent afternoon yesterday with a friend and our two trusty steeds having a cross-country schooling session. it's long been my desire to do this -- horse trials/eventing, whatever you want to call it -- and suddenly i find myself with an incredibly talented little horse who wants it just as much as i do.

flying over some of the biggest - and most solid - fences we've ever done together, galloping over the green hills to splash joyfully in and out of a water jump with autumn's glorious colours as a backdrop was pretty much the closest i've come to transcendence since i rode racehorses for a living.

which possibly sounds rather affected and melodramatic, but there it its. if you've ever had one of those moments, where suddenly the incredible wonder of everything suddenly converges and leaves you breathless and teary-eyed...well...you know, then, what i'm talking about.

 

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me and horses.

i don't really have the words, to be honest.

a horse's back is where i belong, where i feel most myself. it's a soul-knowing.

it's where i first recognized the Divine and  where i commune most deeply with All There Is.

if i were to have to tell someone what my truest talent is, it wouldn't be writing, it would be riding.

but i never tell people that.

i'm pretty sure i've barely mentioned it in all of my online life. and i almost never include riding in my things-i'm-good-at list.

the sad reality is that there's as much baggage in my riding-world as there is in my writing-world.

i was led to understand that neither thing was a practical option.

neither of the things i was good at, and loved with all of my heart, were important or desirable options.

how's that for messed up?

so messed up have i been, that i almost gave Buzz away.

twice.

i felt i wasn't worthy of him, you see. i felt that - as such a super, full-of-potential, horse, he deserved someone who could give him more; someone who deserved him far more than i - with more time, more money, more opportunities. at one point, i had a lovely young woman ready to take him home to be a companion to her own horse but at the last minute i couldn't go through with it.

the horse i waited for my entire life, since being a small girl bumping around on the backs of rogue ponies, arrived in my world, purely by happenstance, and all i could think about was giving him to someone else.

 

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last weekend, an animal communicator came to the stable where i work and also keep Buzz.  i signed us up for a session because i wanted to know if he was happy and comfortable.

i didn't expect it to be quite so profound or emotional.

he said some funny things -- like how he had soft poo when he first arrived but it's better now and how he didn't win much money [the communicator hadn't been told he was an ex-racehorse] but it was because he didn't like to run faster than his friends. he also liked that we told him when it was his birthday and that he really like his saddle.

he also likes to jump and wants to go to shows.

and then he said something that the communicator didn't understand.

she asked me if i'd adopted him -- i said, "well - after a fashion i suppose"

"because", she said,  "he's telling me that you can't give him back."  she laughed, shrugged, and said, "I'm sure you're not going to, but he says you mustn't give him back."

i think i burst into quiet tears then. i told her that i had considered it. [but not that i had someone willing to take him]

he knew.

"they know," she said. "it wouldn't come up if he didn't know."

she paused and rubbed his forehead. "you have some heavy thoughts," she whispered to him. "let me take them away."

"he says to say thank you. someone else wanted him but it didn't go through."

*sniffle. sob* <-- that's about as much as i could contribute.

"what would you like me to tell him?"

*sniffle*

"that i love him. and that there's no need for heavy thoughts." <-- it was as much as i could choke out.

she nodded. "i'll tell him he'll be with you for always."

i wish i'd had the emotional calm to ask her to tell him how i'd waited for him my whole life, and to thank him for being such a good boy -- for taking care of Sebastian and Savannah and all the lovely ladies who feel just brave enough to ride because they know he's gentle and steady.

i wish i could've had her tell him that we're going to do the things we both dream of; that some how, some way, i'll figure out how to have the time and money to follow both of our hearts.

but he knows.

i'm pretty sure he knows.

~m. xo