How many of us have the good fortune, throughout the span of our lives, to re-visit the best of our emotional childhood?
That passionate inner space that stirs your heart to overflowing . . .
Which touchstones open your vault of stored memories?
- The fluttering silhouette of leaves and light on a curtain?
- The beach? A hike? Petting a cat, or a dog?
- The smell and the sounds of the day shifting — from morning . . . to afternoon . . . to evening?
Throughout my life, my access point remains the same: Riding my horse into Nature!
I entered that portal yesterday, and I danced, once again, between worlds.
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All my hopes and dreams for you have come true!
You are my Starboy’s next generation. Starboy, yet bigger, younger. (See My Horse is So Cute! as well as Search: Starboy on this blog for more :))
- Gliding gaits, smooth. Exuberant.
- Responsive. Sensible.
- Every horse-girl’s dream :))
You carried me into dreamland yesterday. And I loved every step . . .
Full. Rich. The emotions stirred deep inside.
Like the ocean waves that serenaded my early childhood years. Growing up on the sand, in Malibu, on then-pristine Trancas beach.
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Maybe it seemed more poignant yesterday because of winter’s intervention.
(This being a snowy, wet and cold one up here in the mountains, I’ve only ridden once since November.)
So absence, indeed, made my heart throb fonder.
As I entered the forest gate, I entered my Time Traveling World.
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All the forest seemed alive, calling back folders of stored emotions. Like a personal file cabinet, from which my entire life opened, and flowed . . .
Lacey shadows cascading across green spring grasses.
I’m riding Rebel, my childhood horse again.
Young. Strong. Filled with hope.
Cool breeze accompanied with warm sunshine, the perfect combination.
Malibu. Elementary School.
Easter time. Wind and warm.
All the world alive, fresh, new.
Yellow blossoms erupting along the Pacific Coast Highway: Clusters of Giant Coreopsis, fields of mustard and Oxalis, bush sunflowers, tidy tips, sticky monkey flowers.
Springtime’s fragrant scent.
Blue sky, fluffy clouds. Hovering, floating.
Riding Rebel behind Will Rogers State Park in the Pacific Palisades.
Endless sky. Endless opportunities.
My life as endless as the horizon surrounding me . . .
Towering Ponderosa tree, here, just off the trail. Still healthy and full and alive. Handsome Granddaddy of our woods.
Motherhood now. Two lovely daughters.
My girls would ride into the forest here when they were young, tie up the horses, climb into this tree — sing, and play their flutes.
One day, they reported to me: “Mamma! We watched a calf being born in the woods today. We were up in the tree. The cow was in the bushes, near the wash . . . ”
In my mind, I see that calf being born, each time I ride past. I see it again now, and I see and feel the amazement of new life, once again, in my daughters’ eyes.
Across the way, the spot where my daughter, Anna’s, hair was caught by a snag and pulled from her Shetland pony, Silver.
The pain — how she cried! How hard it was to console her. Pulled from her pony by her hair, by a low-hanging finger of a tree.
Up from the wash, into the meadow now. Yellow carpet of Gold Field flowers, tiny blossoms painting the ground in swirling, creamy hues.
I’m here again, the first time we discovered the meadow in full golden bloom, when Fae was young, green, her maiden voyage that Spring. Anna, teenage now, riding her bareback.
I had my camera that day and I photographed the gangly forms of horse, and rider.
I see it again now: Anna sliding off, picking a tuft of yellow florets, and placing them in both her own hair, and in the forelock and browband of Fae’s bridle. Her long legs hopping, stretching, leaping back on again, in acrobatic precision.
Our cantering spot. Our Toodle Canyon . . .
The pond, dried in the drought of the past several years, now full, heart-shaped, inviting wildlife to sip — and horses to spook at their smells.
I’m here again, with my girls — long-since moved away. With my horses — many now, passed to the other side. With my faraway Malibu childhood. Juxtaposed in emotional envelopes, side, by side, by side . . .
Alive again. Decades past.
Time travels. Flashes back.
Re-living all the feelings. Again.
Timeless. Alive. All without end . . .
Like an endless loop. Like “The Song That Never Ends”. Playing and re-playing over, and over, again . . .
And all along our ride: The Silent Sentinels (dead trees). Once majestic. Now sliver. Aged. Wise.
My favorite one, still standing. Broken off at the top. Burned and hollowed below by some long-ago fire. Surrounded by fallen comrades. Twisted, faded.
Enter the longings of Grandmother and Mom, Grandfather and Dad.
Age and wisdom. Hope and loss.
Guideposts of Spirit and values. Philosophy and goodness.
Once here and viable. Now fading. Yet watching, still.
And right along side the bygone, the Old — sprouts the next generation: Fresh. New. Growing.
Encouraging, even in their decay. Our ancestors understand far more than us youngin’s Life’s endless cycles, and wherein we play. In. Out. Endless. Timeless.
All this to the music, the metronome, of my horse’s dancing mane. His flowing neck, swinging. Ticking off each stride.
Each hoofbeat, each memory, each emotion . . . connected through the stride and the dancing mane of my most amazing, time-traveling, doorway to another world: My horse!
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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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Like what you’ve read here? Visit Dawn’s sister blog: Journal of Dawn