Way of the Horse

The Way of the Horse
By Monika McDole

People always ask me what it is that draws me to horses. After nearly
15 years, I still don't have my answer straight. It's a little weak to
just shrug and say "Well, they're horses. What other reason do you
need?"
But what else can I say? It's the truth.
Sometimes I say is that it's born in the blood, like a propensity for
black hair, or blue eyes, or big teeth.

I've gotten concurrence on this viewpoint from other horse lovers, so
perhaps it's the best explanation I can come up with. Secretly, I think
that some humans, fellow horse lovers all, share some part of the same
DNA sequence that makes up our equine companions. What else could
explain the tendency of young girls to snort, shy, whinny, and jump
small, immobile objects in a single bound?
To my mind, this behavior marks us as changelings of the best sort;
it's proof that somewhere along the line, our genetic paths mingled
with that of the finest animals on earth.

Ultimately, I think I've decided that the harder you try to define what
draws horse lovers to horses, the farther you get from the truth.
Analysis is the antithesis of the love of the horse, because the horse
is organic, volatile, fragile. Everything that cannot be analyzed is
personified in that one magical, wondrous being. And that is part of
the draw, I think. That lightning-in-a-bottle quality. That ephemeral
fleeting touch of greatness that touches our lives and makes us, for a
single breath of eternity, as grand as they are.

And they are grand, at least to those of us who love them. Who among
the horse-loving legions has not felt close to tears at the sight of a
magnificent equine athlete in action? Who has not felt shivers of
delight at the sight of a magnificent horse captured for a quicksilver
instant in a photograph, the essence of activity distilled to one
pinpoint of revelation; one moment to savor over and over for a
generation or more?

But for all the power and beauty, horses are fragile and needy, too.
Horse owners the world over will attest to the sensitivity of their
charges. They are very breakable, and for all the mass they display,
their flesh is heir to a million torments; some inflicted by Mother
Nature, some by the molds we humans try to pound them into.
Whenever I read of the latest threat to horse health, the newest red
flag to beware of, I am renewed in my awe of these animals to overcome,
to adapt, to thrive in a world so full of danger.

Aside from the physical aspect of stewardship, there is the mental as
well. It is so easy to look at a horse and forget an essential truth;
we are told that horses can learn and know many things, but their
thought processes never mature beyond that of a three-year old human
child.
What a profound realization, when you look at what we ask our horses to
do. And how easy it is, knowing this, to understand why they do thing
that we would consider "stupid" or "foolish". They are neither; they
are just being horses. And how easy it is to forget that the 1,000
pound equine who towers over you needs the steady hand and constant
reassurance that a small child does!
A sobering thought indeed, and one that makes our stewardship of the
horse even more precious.
It is as if we chosen few, we horse lovers, have the care of a
multitude of young Mozarts in our charge. "Child prodigies" in an adult
world. Awe-inspiring, amazing, impressive, but children
nonetheless.

Yes, there is a dirty, grungy side to horses; they are big, dirty,
sometimes destructive. They can be frustrating, dangerous, maddening,
but still they draw us; they make our lives complete.
I think it will forever be impossible to explain why I love horses. How
can I describe what I get in exchange for all I give? All I can say is,
they fill a void in my life. Without them, I am incomplete. And it is
that truth that makes it all worthwhile.

Why do you love horses? I think that is best answered individually by
every horse owner, because love, as everyone knows, is no
one-size-fits-all proposition. Love means something different to each
of us.

But for my part, I love horses because for me, there is no other
way.
I am my horse's grateful keeper, because as long as I have him,
Mozart's magic, the essence of brilliance lent for a little while to
brighten an otherwise unremarkable life, is mine.