I read this in the book Demian by Herman Hesse yesterday:
"Even as a young boy I had been in the habit of gazing at bizarre natural phenomena, not so much observing them as surrendering to their magic, their confused, deep language. Long gnarled tree roots, colored veins in rocks, patches of oil floating on water, light-refracting flaws in glass -- all these things had held great magic for me at one time: water and fire particularly, smoke, clouds, and dust, but most of all the swirling specks of color that swam before my eyes the minute I closed them. I began to remember all this in the days after my visit to Pistorius, for I noticed that a certain strength and joy, an intensification of my self-awareness that I had felt since that evening, I owed exclusively to this prolonged staring into the fire. It was remarkably comforting and rewarding.
"To the few experiences which helped me along the way toward my life's true goal I added this new one: the observation of such configurations. The surrender to Nature's irrational, strangely confused formations produces in us a feeling of inner harmony with the force responsible for these phenomena. We soon fall prey to the temptation of thinking of them as being our own moods, our own creations, and see the boundaries separating us from Nature begin to quiver and dissolve. We become acquainted with that state of mind in which we are unable to decide whether the images on our retina are the result of impressions coming from without or from within. Nowhere as in this exercise can we discover so easily and simply to what extent we are creative, to what extent our soul partakes of the constant creation of the world. For it is the same indivisible divinity that is active through us and in Nature, and if the outside world were to be destroyed, a single one of us would be capable of rebuilding it: mountain and stream, tree and leaf, root and flower, yes, every natural form is latent within us, originates in the soul whose essence is eternity, whose essence we cannot know but which most often intimates itself to us as the power to love and create."
With these thoughts swirling inside, I paid closer attention to the gnarled trunk of this beautiful oak tree. The lichen and moss growing on its rough nooks seemed another way into this visible yet invisible mystery magic world.
Sofi was the first to approach today. We played at the edge of nice pony/scary pony. Whenever she made a scary face at me I stepped away around the trunk of the tree. The photo below captured the moment of shaking her head. The horses seem to do this at the end of "processing" or rethinking something. They will often shake their head, blow a snort, and sometimes then proceed to nibble at some grass after I do something that seems to be meaningful to them. I am purposely trying to not speak for horses in this blog. I suspect that speaking for horses is a trap. An example of what I mean is all the times I've heard "My horse loves to jump" or "My horse likes his bit" or any number of other things that people say that may or may not be what the horse is actually thinking. I believe it is more valuable to simply say what happens and then let each person decide for him or herself what that might mean.
I treat Sunny like a fourth horse. When the other three horses have better things to do, there's Sunny, waiting to play.
I spent some time playing fetch with Patrik, Sunny and Sofi today. I didn't have much time though so after some scratches and goodbyes...
...I let Sunny lead me back, stick in mouth (Sunny's that is) to the barn so I could put my stuff away.
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