Wild places

I've been thinking some more about that strange dream, the one where I seemed to be riding through a virtual world. It was odd. However each dream has a meaning, and the collective whole offers pointers too.

Riding through a make-believe artificial world is a peculiar thing to imagine. Even in a dream my unconscious recognised the place as unreal and trhe situation odd. But it took me there nonetheless. I thought that my horse was a facsimile, but began to wonder. Could she really be with me? If so what would become of her? Whether she was real or not, we were a team. Our fates seem bound together.

All that I can grasp from this right now is an intuition that my unconscious sees my daily existance as unreal. It is abstract, coherent within its own confines, yet ultimately offering little enlightenment to me. It has become like a game that I dip into, not quite real enough to warrant a total and motivated immersion. Life has split into two parts, and it is the thought of a horse that emphasises the distinction. This may be a summer distinction because I can go out and ride long hours. Winter is just grey and dark, offering few possibilities.

This dichotomy creates a tension. Or, rather, it reawakens an old tension from pre-exile days, from back when work and pleasure were distinct, different and pointing in opposite directions. I am disturned by this tension, for I thought that was left far behind. Always the wanderer, I see, always thinking more than is good for me. There is no answer to this, just a question that I cannot avoid in perpetuity.

I rode first at the age of twenty-seven. At that point a new activity entered my life that would unlock understanding and come to define me. Within two years of starting riding lessons I'd headed off on a long ride of eight weeks across a wild foreign land. What a thrilling redefinition that was!

Now, having a stable life and a good horse amidst fine riding country, I wonder where to pause, and how. Perhaps I should suspend thought, get on, and live life aiming to enjoy the experiences? At least I need to get out and appreciate the goodness and joy that surrounds me. All those years that I guided professionally, almost all those fifteen thousand or so miles on the trail, I carried responsibility as my ever-present companion. It was a chaotic country, my associates were not reliable, and the work was endless. Now I can ride free from worry. It's a gift.

 
Here is Nicholas Roerich's Mongolia. This says a thing or two about how a horse can unlock the freedom of open spaces. It was painted in 1938, however the message is timeless.

I may be locked into a job for a part of the time. But other times the key of freedom has been placed in my hand and I have turned it, pushing open the creaking door to reveal a rustic trail winding into the distance. Not everyone has that opportunity.

Anyway, now the weekend lies ahead. That's two days to ride as much as my leg will stand, with a good weather forecast. Now the hills are being shaves in harvest. They will regain that bare ascetic quality that I so love. Once again the land will become simple yet mysterious. Now I just have to wait for the ploughing that will throw up chalk and flint, creating soft flowing roan hills that reflect the sun. Again I will be able to ride across a bright, hot landscape that feels strangely foreign - another place, yet no place and many places all rolled into one.

Comments

[lytha]

i tried to post this on today's entry but it didn't work:
oh no, you've got the dreaded purple weed too! we did our best to eliminate them from our hang but i see a couple have reached "taller than me" stage and many are hanging over our fences pushing on the wires. ugh. they're not as bad as the blackberries or nettles, but my husband really wants them gone so we can have grass.

[White Horse Pilgrim]

It is a powerful coloniser, this Rosebay Willow Herb (as it is known here). As with the poppy, disturbing the soil seems to set it off. During the war it became known as "bombweed" as it took over fresh craters created by aerial bombardment. However now it is associated with railway lines and old trackways, also building sites and derelict gardens. I agreed thay they are less bad than nettles and blackberries, however they may be harder to eliminate too. They spread by underground roots so you will have some digging to do! I have read that tea can be made from the leaves too.

[lytha]

it seems to me that beneficial herbal tea can be made from every pestilent thing that grows in my yard so why am i not rich yet? hehehehe: )

can you tell me what these big white flowery things are that cover the landscape this time of year? they are illustrated in my weather window gadget (annoyingly to me!), blowing in the breeze, as if someone thinks they are pretty. they have taken over the fields around us and we are getting concerned.

as a non-land owner i'd love them too, they are kind of pretty. but i see them creeping in.

[White Horse Pilgrim]

I'm not sure whether those herbal teas would be beneficial, or just something to drink in the absence of anything else?

Are you thinking of Cow Parsley? It's another invasive weed, and one that horses do like to eat when the white blossom is out. They are another hedgerow plant here, but not a nuisance as ragwort is through not being poisonous to livestock.

From my point of view its interesting to read a naturalist's book from a hundred years ago (such as Richard Jefferies) and see what actually grew back then. A aurprising number of todays weeds, it seems, however there were more uses for them.