I remember the time I knew everything. It was such a short time, that brief blip in history, when I understood and I could explain. But then age advanced; more chemicals laced my hair, collagen began collapsing and people I knew started dying. It was when the dying began that I understood I knew practically nothing at all.
Today, I learn of the passing of a good, good man. He celebrated his 54th birthday and died, unexpectedly, the very next day. Platitudes masked as well meaning wisdom haven't a place in this scene. In fact, there is nothing to say. The wisdom, if there is any, lies in the honoring of emotions and a deep and abiding inventory of what there is to be grateful for. There is also the vow to use whatever wisdom I think I may have to get on with it. To unfurl. To bloom as big as I can, ready or not.
I am afraid of horses. And I am mesmerized by the largest of their kind. I cannot explain this sudden desire, this need, to be near them, to learn what this wagon-hitch business is about.
Lisa and me, we are bitten and smitten. We are willing to travel to get the next fix. So we went one state east and found joy unimaginable in the ring. Then after, finding the barns, (the barns!) and melting into the background watching, watching the dismantling of giants.
Somewhere in the tangle of hoof and wheel and harness is the message of power. Of companionship. Of teamwork. Of happiness that cannot be explained, and yet must be followed unblinking. It is the message of new worlds to be explored and reverence, sweet reverence for the pull of the natural world.