Horses . . .
We only see the outside.
Like standing by the shore of a vast, great sea.
When we stroll the ocean’s edge, we know what we are likely to find there . . .
Nature. Air.
Color. Texture.
Ripples. Wavelets.
Seabirds. Sand.
Sparkling sunbeams, moonbeams, gracing the surface with magical glints of dancing, ever-changing light . . .
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We know, when we are near the sea, what we are likely to feel . . .
Vast. Open.
Fresh. Alive.
Ageless. Outside of our day-to-day limitations of space and time.
(We revert back to childhood.)
Tempted to take off our shoes, get our feet wet.
Sand beneath our toes. Shocking cold of the water.
Maybe even splashed by an unexpected wave — and now our leggings, wet for the rest of the day :))
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DawnHoof:
I grew up in Malibu, on the beach, with Nature and sand and surf, outside our back door. From a small child, I experienced the ocean, in all her moods.
A Vast, Great Childhood Wonderland!
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Blustery Spring and Fall
Calm Summer perfection
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Childhood Memories —
My brother and I, puttering endlessly through the sand dunes, scooting on our knees — and the squiggly tracks our legs and hands left in the sand.
Forts with make-believe kitchens, “baking bread” out of a brown, loaf-shaped cork we found, after it had washed ashore. (That item was a particular rare treasure :))
Listening to Roy Orbison’s Pretty Woman on my transistor radio one perfect beachy day, at the very time a shapely, bathing-suited brunette — I was just a dorky kid — swept past my sand-dune-fort, swerving and curving with each stride . . .
Orbison singing, “Pretty woman, walking down the . . . beach, Pretty woman” and remembering this scene for years to come, whenever I hear that song.
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Winter, with her storms
Spellbound, in terror, and awe
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Late-night fierce, far-away storm. Lightning strikes, firing off on the horizon way out to sea. Blazing explosions of Nature’s wrath — complete with roaring, booming thunder. All us kids piled on Mom and Dad’s bed, shivering in fear, watching the spectacle.
Windy, fall mornings at the bus stop, watching the surf while waiting to go to school. Wishing that summer was not over, and yearning to be back at the beach . . .
Moody. Changing.
Foggy. Sun.
Windy. Cold.
Burning sand.
There is a Life and Culture, that comes with the sea.
DawnHoof:
Dad had a boat — 14′ motorboat, green fiberglass. Evinrude outboard engine. It smelled like gas and fish and oil . . .
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He’d put-in at the pier at Paradise Cove, where a crane plucked up the boat, dangling from a sling, and hoisted it slowly, down into the inky water below.
Dad and some family/friends would motor out, around Point Dume, and up coast to the waters outside our Trancas Beach home, and drop off a rubber, air-filled Voit surf mat, just inside the wave line.
The crashing surf would tumble the mat in, and one of the bigger kids/adults would paddle out on it, past the breakers, and climb into the boat . . . (I think adult beverages might have been involved :))
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One day Dad and the boat almost ate it — frozen in my memory, I can see it, even now.
A BIG wave cresting behind. Building. Forming. Ready to break. His little boat in too close for this unexpected rogue.
All of us on shore yelling. Pointing. Jumping. Shouting.
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“DAD!!! BEHIND YOU!!! WATCH OUT!!!!!”
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Dad standing, like a jockey, one hand on the wheel. Smiling, waving — forever the showman — thinking it all great fun.
(Crap! Dad!! LOOK — turn the boat!!!! This CAN’T happen to you!!!!!)
Dad waving. Us yelling. The wave building, cresting, like a mountain, ready to smash and destroy . . .
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Then Dad, in that final possible moment, glancing sea-ward — still standing, clam — turns the boat and slices through the top, airborne, rocketing out, crashing down — safe, onto the sea behind.
When he got home, hours later, all he could do was laugh.
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(Read more about DawnHoof’s Studio Musician Dad here, and listen to his wonderful music :))
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So, also, is the Vast, Great Sea of Horses
Life and culture.
Mood and magic.
Calm and storm.
Story and lore.
Terror and awe.
We only see the outside, the “shore” of the horse . . .
Manes and tails.
Hard hooves. Soft noses.
Yet what lies within?
What memories do my horse’s seas carry?
DawnHoof:
So just as I grew up with Nature and the beach, my daughters grew up with Nature, and our horses — right there, outside our cabin door. (On occasion, in the foyer of our home!) And later, stabled at nearby ranches.
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Their memories include: Milking goats. Sleeping in full-sized Sioux Indian tipi. Dressing up (like a baby doll) our numerous newborn (horse) foals. Carriage rides. Wildflowers. And standing up atop the horses, just for fun :))
Laying, snuggling and singing with the goats, the horses. Chasing chickens and ducks. Eating vegetables straight from the garden. And the sweet smell of damp, wet earth.
My daughters’ family lore includes: Working and earning money at our vaulting and carriage (camp) gigs as my helpers, wranglers, muckers.
Saving their earned money in special, hidden envelopes — “checking out” whatever money they would spend with a simple, yet effective, handwritten accounting system.
School-free days — escaping into the woods, on horseback, by themselves. Galloping. Racing. Laughing. Crying. Climbing trees. Playing flutes . . . and Daydreams . . .
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Long rides on dark starry nights. Fast gallops and sharp branches tearing clothes, poking flesh. Famous stories of all the near misses . . .
Like the icy wipeout at Wounded Knee Rock, leaving only one small injury, one shiny scar (fortunately on me). And like Dad’s near miss with the wave, but for God’s grace, that near-miss could have been fatal.
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And when we gather together, when we reflect back — Dad would approve — we share lots of lively laughter :))
(See Dawn’s posts, Virtual Rides, for more family horse stories.)
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As with the Ocean, So with our Horses
And just as we experience the sea by surfing, swimming, floating, diving, boating — just as she can be mapped, measured, traced and traversed, no one will ever really know all her secrets.
Endless treasures abound within her watery depths.
Each one of us who encounters her, experiences our own, personal ocean-legacy.
And so it is with our horses.
Because in the presence of a horse, like the sea, far more lies beneath her surface.
She can be brushed and led, trained and coaxed, saddled and ridden. Her DNA can be mapped, measured and traced. But we will never really know all a horse’s secrets.
What is her story? What is her lineage? How did she get here?
How many children has this horse carried?
How many lives has this horse touched? Changed? Encouraged?
Who are her favorite stablemates, and which ones, now lost, might she pine for?
What motivates her? What does she enjoy?
What are her fears? Hopes? Limitations?
Who are her human loved ones?
What animals cruise by her corral at night, frightening her? Feeding her nightmares?
(We have bear where our horses live!)
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In our horse’s presence, we know what we are likely to feel . . .
Vast. Open.
Fresh. Alive.
Ageless. Outside of our day-to-day limitations of space and time.
(We revert back to childhood.)
Tempted to put on our boots, go closer to where she is, and stand near her.
Wrap our arms around her neck. Whispering. Scratching. She, stretching and moving her upper lip in pleasure . . . sharing a bonding, intuitive moment.
Maybe even moved to mount up and ride. And now our leggings, sweaty for the rest of the day :))
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Ode to Our Horse —
So as we experience all that comes with horses,
Boots and saddles
Dust and manure
Life and beauty and majesty . . .
We celebrate the exuberant treasures,
The rich, deep wonders
Hidden within
The Vast, Great Sea of Horses :))
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Copyright 2018
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Please also visit my Life Blog, Journal of Dawn,
for Strategies and Insights into the
Journey of Life
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Little Dawn with plastic horses at Grandfather’s house
Join Dawn for a Soul Horse Ride! Experience the thrill of becoming one with your Horse . . . Join Dawn and her homegrown herd for a Soul Horse Ride in the Frazier Park Outback!
Call to book your Life-Changing Adventure today: (661) 703-6283
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