Bloganaury #25 is to write about something that makes us feel strong.
Grace of the ballerina seen in each and every movement. Striding over the ground in slow motion, muscles tense yet flowing, controlled power with pride and glory. A race with the wind is a challenge not denied, and often the victor. Gentle like the dove but upon defensive arousal can distinguish life in a footprint. A heart given is rarest jewel, once given will not retreat. Controlled by quiet voice and love the massive gladiator joyfully submits, a partnership complete.
Stolen Night, my appaloosa stallion makes me feel strong. The photo above he is 3 years young and not his full statue. He is 16 hand tall or 64 inches and weighs 1,300 pounds. Words and pictures do not capture the majesty of Stolen Night. He is the most powerful horse I have ever been next to or ridden. I have ridden several hundreds of horses of various breeds, including draft.
Stallions are not the safest or most trustworthy of mounts, ask any horseman. A person who succeeds in winning the heart of a stallion is a true master. Stolen Night’s strength and power brings fear, but when I ride him we are a centaur, horse and human, perfect.
When I am feel weak, the world crashing around me, to him I go for comfort, to feel warmth, to dry my tears in his mane, to stand using his strength. He is patient, comforts with a soft muzzle, ever ready to listen.
Growing up, the only sanctuary I had was with the horse. The need to cry or share my fears, the loneliness at school, the crowded house, my dreams and hopes, the horse always had a listening ear. I could not go to my mother as she did not want to spend the time, and when she did her words were a lie. Horses never lie, ask anyone who has been around a horse. My father was often too busy working providing for his family and extended family living with us. My solace, my sanctuary was the horse.
There were many years we did not own a horse, but the horse was there in plastic form on my dresser or traveling with me in my mind. In my mind we would climb mountains, swim rivers and race the wind. During my teenage years, I would not have survived if it had not been for my horse. I could disappear for hours on their back, leaving the cares and bullying behind. We would find quiet places to tell my story and cry, hiding tears in his mane. Loneliness was not there when I was with the horse. We spoke the same language, felt the same heartbeats. Did you know a horse can hear your heart beat from ten feet away?
My wish became desire turned to passion then to life. I pondered why do I feel strong with the horse? The answer is simple, the horse was there to listen, not judge, not condemn, not call me silly or a fool, just to listen. Listen to the fears of a young girl, listen to the trials of a teenager, hear of the broken heart, the joys of good grade, the dreams and plans after graduation, and hopes for the future. The horse simply listened.
You feel strong when you know you are heard.