Return to Equusscence
Return to Equusscence
(Inspired by the song "Return to innocence" by Curly W.C.)
"Never doubt the devotion that surfaces in my heart, for it is marked in sincerity for one love; equus."
-Big Fluffy-
Prologue:
In the Rig Vedas of classical Hindu texts, the horse is an appropriate sacrifice, for it represents fire and the sun itself.
In Greek mythology, the winged horse Pegasus becomes the conveyance of the muses, and he himself springs forth the fountain of Hippocrene with his very hoof. Hippocrene is the spring of poets.
Epona, the mare goddess, becomes the deity of a Pagan-like cult especially popular among soldiers of the Roman cavalry.
The Koran itself is well known for references towards equines.
"Horse, thou art truly a creature without equal, for thou fliest without wings and conquerest without sword."
-The Koran-
And never doubt that others' have seen such magnificence themselves;
"A lovely horse is always an experience...it is an emotional experience of the kind that is spoiled by words."
-Beryl Markham-
"...An instinct sympathy which makes horse and master one heart, one pulse, one understanding love-is never made, but born."
-George Agnew Chamberlain-
History's first well-known, compassionate equestrian had this to say,
"What a horse does under compulsion is done without understanding, and there is no beauty in it either, any more than if one should whip or spur a dancer."
-Xenophon-
"There is something about the outside of a horse that is good for the inside of a man."
-Sir Winston Churchill-
"One key to getting along well with a horse is to view him as a fellow creature rather than as an object for entertainment."
-Patricia Jacobson/Marcia Hayes-
"A man on a horse is spiritually as well as physically bigger than a man on foot."
-John Steinbeck-
And here are some poems on this lithe conqueror of passions and hearts;
The hooves of the horses!-Oh! witching and sweet
Is the music earth steals from the iron-shod feet;
No whisper of lover, no trilling of bird,
Can stir me as hooves of the horses have stirred.
-Will H. Ogilvie-
I love the horse from hoof to head,
From head to hoof and tail to mane;
I love the horse, as I have said,
From head to hoof and back again.
-James Whitcomb Riley-
But one quote out of all that I have read makes the most sense to my devotion;
"Horses represent the other part of self, the child-like innocence and openness to all things new, what we want to be. When we are open to them, they bring us to our deeper self..."
-Mother Hildegard George-
This is in essence, the whole I wish to convey; horses continue to show me my kinder self in an increasingly hectic, stressful world-where more and more we are separated from what we desire; innocence, the chance to be loved for US, without having to change our personality to suit others' needs.
Return to innocence by Curly W.C.
Love-Devotion
Feeling-Emotion
Don't be afraid to be weak
Don't be too proud to be strong
Just look into your heart my friend
That will be the return to yourself
The return to innocence
If you want, then start to laugh
If you must, then start to cry
Be yourself don't hide
Just believe in destiny
Don't care what people say
Just follow your own way
Don't give up and use the chance
To return to innocence
That's not the beginning or the end
That's the return to yourself
The return to innocence
I wake up everyday into obscurity, into the boring repetition of a life unfulfilled and my first conscious unbidden thought that springs to mind is when...
When will my patience wear thin?
When will the wait end?
When will my unfettered desire consume me so powerfully, that it cannot hope to be denied?
When will I take my first equine love?
This is the great inferno passionately delving deep inside my being. To deny it-To myself and among others is contrary for what I have expressed so far.
Can it be any wonder that I find myself an addict not to a substance, but a creature-
A creature of Fire,
Of Wind,
Of Water,
Of PASSION.
"It may be broadly stated that, with the single exception of goldfish, of all animals kept for the recreation of mankind the horse is alone capable of exciting a passion that shall be absolutely hopeless."
-Bret Harte-
How apt this man is!
This passion I have for horse is not merely hopeless, it's to be helpless as well.
Helpless before grandiose beauty so indescribable, it can steal the words before they are uttered.
Helpless before benign benevolence of will so great, I would nearly bow before such a subtle king.
Helpless to stop my heart as it beckons me onward to sanctified musty-sweet flesh wrapping carefully like a package, the most curvaceous elegance anyone can bear witness toward.
And none of these words I have so far bespoken should be taken, but as little more than an insult toward "poetry in motion"-though even that seems paltry and shallow, for it is our words we use to describe them, not theirs.
Oh, yes, horses have words.
So many words uttered in such different ways, we cannot begin to translate.
Would we even want to? To take from them their simplistic, yet divine culture?
Perhaps the greater joy is to know them, to be invited for glimpses of their society at a time.
In this world, I consider myself horse.
But I feel almost unworthy to call myself such among them.
Let me then be the lover and the pilgrim to those that describe the condition of my soul.
And...
"God forbid that I should go to any heaven in which there are no horses."
-R.B. Cunninghame Graham-
Chapter One: Great Spirit
I am amazed by this, this simplicity. How clear everything is.
I was born a child of the earth, a friend of the spirits and creatures of the land. I could stare at the asymmetrical forms of trees; going over each detail eagerly in my mind, and appreciating every part. When leaves flutter, I am introduced to another presence;
Wind, the trickster. He who steals the hanging clothes, tickles our wet, nude bodies when we step out of lakes from swimming, and sweeps the smoke back into the confines of our homes.
Today, Wind sweeps dust into my face, reminding me of the taste of earth. I am no stranger to this, in fact, I've gotten used to it, and some days even welcome the aroma as something almost reminiscent of a previous life among a band of the hooved children of Mother Earth.
Some days, I can almost remember the previous form of my spirit, of the succulent filling taste of plains grass, before I became a man.
A year ago, I did not embrace this, too embarrassed to think of myself as another sort of child among Mother Earths' many offspring.
A year ago, too, did I receive instruction by a great wise man to go on a quest of strict ritual-of fasting, and proceeding forward until my body refused to go any further.
In a vision, I was visited by me. Me in the form of the four-hooved little brother our tribe protected and benefited from like many other of these fast-running kind.
In eternity, in another time, I knew that was me, and I had been denying my legacy long enough like the fool all young men are.
The inevitable thought comes to me-why have I denied this for so long? Why have I denied it at all?
This, all a return to me, my innocent self. The self that lacks pride for trivial things-how my soul has strayed from the lessons I was taught as a stallion.
How I have learned not to trust others as a human, fearing to be hurt.
How I have learned to seize all possessions I can, when I cannot take them with me to my next life.
How I have learned to reserve my love and affection for few, discouraged for showing love toward strangers.
How I have learned that strangers harbor motives contrary to my best interests.
How I have learned.
And none of it the joy I had known as the palomino stallion.
The stallion, my innocent little brother self, is eager, excited, and jubilant to remind me of what it means to be something else.
Something not insincere.
Something that does not need a mask or walls to hide weakness.
He takes me to his memories; to mine.
Where grass crumples softly like a carpet under light unshod hooves, where Wind, the prankster, mischievously blows my mane over my eyes, where each breath of pine-scented air is a joyous delight unlike those I had ever knew before.
I smell my harem-each has a unique smell, and all are eager to see me, whether it is spring, or not. I stare in wonder at the hawk above, alight on wings of glinting gold. My feet kick through wildflowers as I make my way toward my herd, unique, sweet flower smells find my nares. Foals wrestle off to the side, rolling on the ground or nipping each other playfully and rearing up. My human side says that they look silly. My stallion side is ignorant about such notions of pride.
A wholeness visits my soul then, a benevolent spirit caresses the inside of my body, slipping through easily like a wisp of smoke, and changing me forever. I close my eyes, finally realizing true peace, true freedom.
Freedom from worry, from worldly bothers.
The Great Spirit has given me my liberty, a choice.
I can be the man I was before;
A man of pride, a fearsome warrior.
Or I can become something else;
Neither man nor stallion-a combining of the two lives, intertwining the minds, the feelings, the two portions of man's soul.
Reason.
Innocent bliss.
Can man live with both without being completely overcome by one?
The Great Spirit has assured me that my heart is ready for this new journey.
From what I have seen so far, I have no reason to doubt him.
That is what my stallion side has told me-he who never dealt with the lies and trickery of wicked men.
My man side has doubt, and it is in conflict with my little brother soul.
Even as men, we must learn that unconditional trust of someone we do not know that well, must be freely given without regret.
Rarely, but it does occur.
To men, a fluke.
To horse, destiny.
Just believe in destiny, the palomino urges.
Believe in destiny,
Just like that, let go of my suspicions.
I do it, do it without regret-
We are one, and I return to my tribe, again knowing the joy of simpler things.
Reason.
Innocent bliss.
Added together, I am the hermit, the pilgrim, the shaman.
Knowing the evils of men, but also knowing their kindness.
I am half a man, after all.
And half a horse.
I am the sympathetic sage of Mother Earth, created by the Great Spirit.
Believe in destiny, live without regret.
Live without regret,
When-
You return to innocence.
"When I forget who I am, I look at the horse and am reminded of what it means to be alive."
-Big Fluffy-
Chapter Two: Paint Stallion The Teacher
Even after I shared my soul with the joyful little Palomino, there was much to remember.
And as much to forget.
Little stallion told me to come here, to the plains where frequented many herds of unbroken mustangs. Perhaps one among them could remind me of what liberty meant.
A man thinks he has liberty, with his wealth and power and status.
After all, the more you have, the more you can do.
But with all I have described comes responsibility.
Responsibility is a yoke, a harness. It drags us down lower and lower until we wonder why it was so much fun to be a king or chieftain in the first place.
Where is your liberty as you stress over finding food and water for a whole village, or waging war with your enemies?
Where is your liberty when epidemic strikes, or famine visits, or poverty afflicts all?
Where?
Little stallion knows.
Liberty is a small harem to protect, liberty is chasing after plentiful grass, liberty is fighting off one or two predatory animals.
Freedom is better for those who have less, who don't have many to watch over.
The paint stallion off in the distance knows as well. He is the proudest of kings, content with what little family he has.
Paint stallion is glad of so much, perhaps much glad to have so little.
Paint stallion only has four mares and two foals among his band.
A man would be more ambitious, claiming many more wives where he can.
And making many heirs to carry his title after death.
Paint stallion is practical. He takes as many mates as he can practically watch. He has no possessions but the dried mud caked into his back.
Man will take what objects he can, but what good are these to paint stallion, whom cannot take possessions with him as he migrates?
What good are these to man, who also cannot take these with him as he migrates-
Into the next world of being?
From watching paint stallion for only a few minutes, I have revisited some of the truths we were taught to deny growing up as children.
And yet, paint stallion does not care-does not seem to notice he had taught me anything at all-
And does not charge for this lesson, either, as many sharpers' are eager to do.
I wonder what else he may teach me, as he runs off with his band, chasing the sunset for greener pastures.
My stomach growls.
I am hungry.
Little Palomino is hungry.
Together, as the sage of earthly wisdom, we leave for the night to find something in camp to eat.
"People talk about size, shape, quarters, blood, bone, muscle, but for my part, give me a hunter with brains: he has to take care of the biggest fool of the two and think for both."
-G.J. Whyte Melville-
Chapter Three: Path To Rediscovery
Little Palomino is pleased with the wisdom I have gained. Perhaps soon I can say I am home once again.
Men will call wherever they live home, while horse will call everywhere his hooves can touch his own domain.
Men will take pleasure in whatever they can, while horse will take pleasure in everything, grateful for each minute of life and content to explore new things like the children they are.
That is not to say the simpler things are better, when stacking accomplishment, but what good are some of the things men come to learn?
What is the point of counting every leaf on a tree, or remembering the designations of the stars?
If man names a creature a blue bird, is it really a blue bird?
If a tree is felled and no one is around, does it crash as loudly?
Meaningless, this knowledge is. What good is this data if it cannot be practically applied?
Palomino stallion is not bothered by the number of stars in the twilight sky; it does not concern him.
It should not concern me.
But it does.
A meaningless curiosity, to be human.
"I purchased some classics on horse care...I gradually came to understand they were like 19th-century religious tomes on how to save your soul: objective, good; instructions, extremely detailed; practical application, impossible."
-C.J.J. Mullen-