Philip Seymour Hoffman 1967-2014

One of the greatest actors the American stage and screen has ever seen, never to be replaced, irreplaceable. Sorrow and loss. I record his passing here for all the revelatory moments of his career that so deeply impacted me, influenced me, informed me, kept me waiting always, impatiently, for the next. I will never, ever forget the feeling of the hair on the back of my neck standing up when I saw him on Broadway, starring in Eugene O'Neill's A Long Day's Journey Into Night. How fortunate I was.

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Coming Home

I didn't realize until I sat down to type that I paused my horse journal just about a year ago. Not that years can frame anything, but it's as if I must have known it was practical to step away for so long. I didn't know it was because all my loves, interests, wants, needs would have to be pushed hard to the margins of my life for a time, but that's what happened. That's what change demands, especially when it's the deeper thing of knowing it is going to happen but not knowing that you know. It's hard enough to hear that voice, then harder when you begin to listen. It became a roar, though, deafening in my head, when I finally did listen, and eventually I made everything step away until I could step through into something new. I'm still stepping through and will be for a while. But "new" isn't the right word.

 

My beautiful mare is well. She's a bedrock boundary of my identity, claiming her place and bringing me back from the periphery. Horses can be incredible anchors through change. They manifest a familiarity that is never false, even when you suspect you are. Because she recognizes me, I am and will be. Eventually, it will feel more natural, and just in time.