Monday, November 29, 2010

Blue (I think)

I wanted to write about what a difference a year makes, after having written earlier about what can happen in just one day. I was thinking about where I was a year ago with Scout, but... no. I kind of drifted into the day and a then a fair ways farther into it before I became aware of a sense of melancholy enveloping me. It's been a long time since I've had that feeling, a kind of almost benign sadness that might have been wifting through the air, invisible, until you just happened to bump into it. And anyone could have bumped into it, it's that random seeming.

I had stuff to do, and I did it, but I kept my mind's eye on the middle distance. Maybe I internalized a little too much worry. Lately it seems to me there are reminders everywhere about how vulnerable things are. I think sometimes it's the most natural thing in the world to want things to be just okay. There's no need to ask for the moon or the stars, but just let things be all right. I've lost count of the horses I'm reading about that are in trouble, injured, lame, suddenly unsound or worse. They all belong to fine, careful owners who see that they have the best care possible. Suddenly, everything changes. Are they really that vulnerable, these strong, amazing creatures? I guess they are.

And I guess the awareness of that must reside somewhere in us every time we are with our horses, but not so we'd know it up front at all times. It just comes as a cold shock when our horses are hurt, but we're rarely surprised. How could we be? The architecture of the horse seems a perfect example of Nature's reach exceeding her grasp. A pastern here, a stifle there, hocks, tendons, ligaments. Who would build such beauty upon such a risky foundation? Leaving us, who love them, trying to protect it. Yes, I guess I'm a little too worried and I need to get back to the place where you just live with it because not to live with it isn't an option at all.


Rachel said...

Life is beautiful in its impermanence. We just have to cherish each day with our loved ones while we can... part of the wonder in life is found in its delicacy, and unpredictability. Horses are so strong yet so fragile... lots of people don't realize how sensitive they are. Perhaps that's why women relate so well to horses. They are prey creatures, and in a way, so are we...

Lisa said...

Beautiful writing. I especially savored the benign sadness in the air that one could just bump into. Beautifully put. I can also relate to having a lot of things lately reminding me of the fragility and uncertainty in life. Sometimes I'm OK with it and sometimes not quite so OK.

I also found some insight in Rachel's comment about horses and women. I have from time to time asked myself what it is about women and horses. I think Rachel's got a piece of it. Sensitive creatures often expected not to be so sensitive. Fragile and yet strong. Prey, but also able to run or to be fierce so as not to end up as prey.

Muddy K said...

Yes, you two, that seemingly eternal thing about women and horses... I've never been exactly what you might call a girly girl, and I tend to resist generalizations about genders, but I might have to concede there is something about our sensitivity that reaches horses. On the other hand, maybe because they all know we think they are so pretty, they also know how to play us.

The prey thing is a totally loaded issue for me, but I'm going to think on it for a time.