My thoughts for this evening, from my personal journal.
Talking to the horses. I don't mean the commands in working around them or riding them, but simply conversing with an equine friend in the pasture at the end of the day.
It's wonderful. Many are the horse people who have said they are better than a psychiatrist. The best part of talking to the horses for me is how they listen. A cat might walk off in a "better things to do" amble, but a horse rarely does, not when you were truly engaged in conversation. Neither is it the overflowing, positive, happy with your attention no matter what impression that comes from a dog. A dog is already wrapped up in being with you, and conversation is just icing on the cake to make them happier.
No, the horses honestly do seem to listen. They still themselves - and when an animal of 1000 pounds stills itself, even the stillness is awesome. They look back at you with the most gorgeous, liquid eyes, some of the largest eyes in the animal kingdom. The ears react to nuances of your tone, as the horse reacts to nuances of your body language. Conversation with a horse is full of nuances. They recognize and respond to your mood, and they grant it the dignity of not trying immediately to cheer it up if it's down. They simply share it. The friend who will be melancholy with you without trying to impose a "snap out of it" or trying to cheer you up is a friend indeed. And by their simple sharing, they make the valleys less shadowed and the shadows shorter. And in the happy moments, they are there to share that equally, too, while still keeping you grounded as a 1000-pound animal can do.
But they share your mood, whatever it may be, with you. And you never have to wonder if they are listening. They are listening with their entire being, not just their ears. No doubt that somebody is on the other end of the line in the conversation. Individual personalities vary, of course, from Toccata's youthful eagerness to Twister's wise benevolence. But they are unquestionably there when you need to talk.
Priceless.
Logged
"Then we began to ride. My soul smoothed itself out, a long-cramped scroll freshening and fluttering in the wind." Robert Browning