As I walk down to the barn, meandering over the frost ladened path, the sun begins to rise above the mountaintop with a brilliance of light and warmth that reminds me, spring is coming. My bones begin to thaw and I am instantly transported through a sacred portal where time and agenda are non-existent.
The barn holds no late credit card bills, arguments with my beloved, or even old stories and beliefs I’ve conjured up to satisfy my anxiety.
It does, however...
-hold the low rumbling of nickers and sweet, dew drenched muzzles as the horses wait for their morning hay.
-holds the soft rumbling purr of the barn cat as he brings me his favorite catch of the night.
-holds the scampering of bunnies as they squeal in delight for their morning scraps from the garden’s weeds.
As I begin the daily barn chores, I find myself lost between dreaming, belly rubs, and pasture romps, drenched in the enjoyment and freedom of just existing.
How do I keep this feeling when the darkness comes to visit?
When I step back through the portal to life?
Does anybody understand the depth of my need for horses?
And, that horses are not a mere casual luxury to be used for my humanness or accolades?
Horses are written deeply in my soul. Horses are the bridge to my healing. Horses are my truth.