“There is nothing so good for the inside of a human as the outside of a horse.” – A proverb often quoted by Ronnie Reagan, and as often attributed to Churchill, but in truth – a proverb, with origins unknown. True? Maybe. I am not a horse person per se but, and, however, I do love them – as the beautiful, powerful, kind, gentle, fierce, wild, unknowable, knowable creatures that they are. I prefer the proverb to have ‘the snout of a horse’ substituted for ‘outside of a horse’ as their snorty, massive nostril-y, snouty, loud or soft breath is a pure kind of benediction, a whoosh of power, a reminder to us all that we must breathe.
We had horses for a chunk of my childhood. Horse. A horse, and a pony obtained to keep the horse company. My mother, forever aspiring to the trappings of upper middle-class status, wanted my older sister – who was already reluctantly studying dance and piano (showing no aptitude for either) – to learn how to ride. My sister, who was the least physically gifted, most terrified of sporting balls/sticks/bats/rackets and the like klutz I have ever known (she skipped gym throughout high school) was not interested, although I do believe she tried. Basically, horses terrified the poor kid.
An instructor was called in early to assess the situation, and possibly be brought in as a regular hire. We all got on the horse, one at a time, taking a trotting turn around the field above the house. Only one of my mother’s children was a natural rider, and – once this dictum came down – momma lost interest in this particular pretension. Why? Oh please. Her least favorite child (me) was the only one with a natural aptitude and enthusiasm for riding, and gawd forbid we invest in that kid! Nope, not gonna happen.
Regardless, I continued to ride when my dad was available to help me harness the horse – whose name, I am ashamed to say it, escapes me – but once I was in high school, able to work weekends, busy with after school activities designed to keep me out of the house and away from momma as much as possible, that animal was truly on her own. It breaks my heart, as so many things do – because I really loved horses and barns and horse chores as a kid, and wanted to ride.
A lost opportunity, and one I regret deeply. Still. They are beautiful. Wonderful. Powerful. And yes, incredibly expensive (or so I understand) to maintain as a hobby. passion, love – you name it. In native cultures they represent strength, and we are currently in the Chinese Year of the Fire Horse. As I always say re: the Chinese zodiac, which is so much more complex than the western zodiac system, ‘a billion people can’t be all wrong, can they?!’
What must it have been like to live with them daily, day in and day out, to have them as transport, companion, friend? A slower, better, more humane way of life, I suppose. I can hear them breathe…
