White Horse Pilgrim

All day

All day I think about it, then at night I say it.
Where did I come from, and what am I supposed to be doing?
I have no idea.
My soul is from elsewhere, I'm sure of that,
and I intend to end up there.

With respect to Rumi I've passed that point of ceaseless clawing for enlightenment. Perhaps it was easier to do that in the desert? Now I know that this is a journey and life is about putting one foot in front of another (or getting a horse to do that for me) eyes open and perception keen whilst not denying oneself moments of dreaming.

That way occasional enlightenment falls at my feet ready to be spotted (hopefully...) by intuition.

I slipped out to the field at lunchtime when no-one else was there. There is a barely expressible joy in being out there with the horses. The field opened up like a void, a great open space where, so it seemed, I could lose myself. There was meaning, not expressible in equations or facts but through the simple triangle of nature, a horse and I. The beauty of this was tangible.

Oh, well, as Carl Jung wrote: every civilized human being, whatever his conscious development, is still an archaic man at the deeper levels of his psyche. A part of me reaches back towards ancient rustic origins. And why not? I like that a part of me.

Then it was back to the day's task, planning how to assemble a bid for a large construction project. It is due to be submitted in December. I have a sense that much of my year will be shared between that bid and riding - the one of course paying for the other.

Doru came over to the gate for carrots, standing in the muddy corner where twice daily he stamps and paces impatiently at feeding time. There is a vitality about him and a liveliness to his eye. It's good to see the old fellow happy in retirement. 

Just a day more to work before the weekend. Is it a sign of ageing that time seems to pass so quickly? But work gives me much to think about. I like to think. There are problems to solve and solutions to write up. That does help time to slip by.

Now the weekends are pressed into service getting Brena ready for trail rides. In perhaps two months time we'll be going further by trailer and exploring new trails: some new to her, others new to both of us. Brena will cover more miles than Doru did. It's an exciting thought. For now the preparation is keeping me busy.

The next think will be to take her to wide open spaces and see how she copes. I want to work on nice steady trots then sensible collected canters. Plus I need to get used to a mare who, by her nature, moves faster than her predecessor.

Then we'll work on woodland. There are some pleasant trails through belts of trees. Here we come upon other users and obstancles more quickly so it will be an exercise in calmness and observation.

Bewilderment

Sell your cleverness and buy bewilderment.
Cleverness is mere opinion, bewilderment intuition.

It's reassuring to fall back to Rumi again. Sometimes wisdom from a quite different time and place speaks so eloquently. But hasn't the inner depth of mystic spirituality remained constant though ages pass?

God turns you from one feeling to another and teaches by means of opposites, so that you will have two wings to fly, not one.

There he speaks again, on the duality that has so intrigued me. Classical versus romantic, anima versus animus, id versus superego. But they are not opposite split by a 'versus' like two football teams. They are wings that I may fly.

Today both horses had their feet trimmed. Doru emerged from his field for the first time in a few weeks, danced a circle around me, and was led with the lead rope wrapped around his nose. The track is very muddy indeed. I cannot support myself on a horse (for I need to in the most slippery places) and simultaneously correct his silliness.

Brena came down the muddy quarter mile wearing a bridle. There was no point taking any chances. She behaved beautifully.

Doru's feet are great now after two and a half years barefoot. Brena will need some work. For a while she may need to be ridden with hoof boots on the hinds fitted with wedges to lift up the dropped outside edges. But she's a six year-old who has only been shod for two years. her feet should grow out level.

Then we rode. I'd fitted Brena's old bit back onto a bridle. It took a little searching to find a bridle that fitted. There are half a dozen sitting around here but only two fit her. One of those originated with a big Irish Draught. She has a large head. Brena was quiet though not short of energy. There was a certain amount of questioning over the directions that I wanted to take so the ride turned into a schooling session. Using a fairly strong curb bit on a light contact works well.

Thank goodness I have light hands. I have my Blackfoot ex-wife to thank for that. It's strange to move ahead taking wisdom from a person from whom I'm irreconcilably separated. Strange and rather sad too. I hope that somewhere she is teaching others to love and respect their horses.

Brena's a dynamic horse. I'm learning to work with that. Her datum is moving. Perhaps that is a place where a little of Rumi's bewilderment comes in? I don't know quite what Brena will do next. So why have an opinion just for her to prove that wrong? Intuition tells me to be ready for whatever may happen. More than that intuition will tell me what to do. That's not the 'cleverness' of great prowess as a rider. I don't have that. Rather it's the intuition that comes after fifteen thousand miles on the trail.

So I'll approach her with intuition, cautioning that intuition to be ready to learn. It has to be time to ride by feeling, by inner sense, by that which has grown over many hours and miles.....by intuition.