Homage to a Horse

The mystery of equus my mind can't contain but my soul has know for centuries. "Anam cara" is Gaelic for "soul friend." I want to learn their ways but realize the mystery will always lay beyond my reach. I can strive to learn the language, but the logical mind is far from an allay. Maybe I can conjure up instincts from my Celtic roots, or past lives. I have communed with horses for most of my lives. I am sure of it. I have learned to quiet down, settle in to the moment to take their spirit in. It nourishes. They know my spirit better than I, and they like it. When the white one licks my coat, nibbles my hair, and eats grass off my lap, he feels it. He aims a mirror reflecting spirit for me to see and recognize as beautiful, even powerful. He urges the child in me to come out and play by stealing my book when I am in the field reading. He picks up the towel I use as a pillow, gives it a shake, and looks me in the eye. "Be curious, joyful and playful. Stop taking things personally. Enjoy. 'Dally' away if only for the afternoon." Together we have been listening to the hummingbird for months now, ears perked, comprehending joy.