Monday, November 29, 2010
Inside My Mind
And inside her mind, she is running in the summer wind.
Inside her mind, she is running in the summer wind
Like a child again.
From "Child Again," by Beth Nielsen Chapman (a wonderful song about aging; listen to it!)
Some friends brought over two mares and a little filly (still nursing sometimes) to graze on our winter pastures for a while; they're eating it down and getting what little nourishment is left in the grass. They'll leave soon for a small paddock where they can get fed hay and grain, but while they're here, it's great.
I grew up with horses — watching them, raising them, riding them, even taming and training one from a baby, for riding. So it's really fun to see them right outside our windows again. It reminds me of my wonderful childhood...and also the fact that I won't live like this again. So I treasure it every day; all of it. But now, especially with the horses.
I got a pony at age six...the usual recalcitrant, pinto pony. Stocky. Headstrong. Stubborn. Fun. I loved that pony. Mom seemed to name a lot of our animals, and that pony became Twinkle-Toes. Twinks for short. One of my earliest memories is the excitement I felt getting that pony.
Dad taught me how to ride. He got a big buckskin mare of his own, named Honeygal, to ride as part of his work with the sheriff's posse. Volunteer position. He did it for fun, sort of. He did get to carry a gun, so I guess he was playing cowboy a bit. So was I. (And I still have his gun, a neat little pistol.)
I rode the legs off that pony. It wasn't too long before I graduated to Honeygal. I was fearless and free on horseback. I could ride off on my own almost wherever I wanted, and I did. I spent endless hours riding alone, often early in the morning and in the evenings, before and after school, and all summer, of course. Until I left college and moved to Texas. Then the horses stopped.
Dad got it in his head to raise Appaloosas, so we did that for quite a while. Dad and I loved the horses best; the rest of the family tolerated them; sometimes my brother Scott rode, too, but not much. Not like I did. Horses shaped my life in a big way.
So I guess now in my mind, I'm riding in the summer wind, like a child again. And it's great.
Labels:
Beth Nielsen Chapman,
Child Again,
childhood,
horses
Wednesday, November 17, 2010
All the Lonely People...and Other Living Things
Only the lonely know
The loneliest number is one.
That's how life goes,
And loneliness is no damn fun.
In the World According to AARP, loneliness is fast becoming the new American plague.
I think loneliness has always been the saddest thing a living being can experience. It's tied to loss, but it's much deeper and much worse. The saddest sights, to me, have always been a lone horse, head down in a barren lot. Or a dog with a too-tight collar chained to a post, either barking in frustration or unfeeling in defeat. Or a kid sleeping on the street because he was thrown out or ran away from a horrible home.
The sadness in the world is overwhelming, which is why so many of us avoid seeing it, believing it, and certainly feeling it. We don't want to feel sad, or feel helpless to stop sadness, or feel guilty when we see sadness.
It's time to recognize that the saddest thing in the world is loneliness. And we have to try to do something to make it better whenever we can. The sad part of that is, we often can't. Or won't. And that makes our own souls sad and lonely too.
All the lonely people and pets — where do they all come from?
Uncaring homes.
Where do they all belong?
With loving friends and family.
Or even with loving, caring strangers who become friends and family, if even for a moment.
Labels:
being alone,
isolation,
living alone,
loneliness,
sadness
Monday, November 8, 2010
Retire, Retired, Retiring
When life takes the wind out of your sails
And everything pales in comparison to impending death,
It's time to reassess and do your best
To appreciate every moment...every breath.
Tough job, that — remembering to appreciate life when you're depressed about dying, even if it's not your own death that's immediately looming. You hope.
Lately I've been getting up very early. I usually wake up early and lie in bed, eventually falling back to sleep — or not. But a couple of times now I've gotten up and watched an old move on TCM, and it's been fun. (I'm talking the 4 a.m. movie...or earlier on occasion.)
Oddly, I've been feeling like I'm retired. The reasons don't matter, I guess, but the feeling is strange. No demands on my time. Free to do whatever whenever with no negative repercussions. Although, it's a bit disconcerting to have no pressing daily work or direction. Takes some getting used to.
Feeling retired makes me feel tired. Guess the thing to do is retire to bed and get more sleep.
Or get more work so I can really retire. Aaack!
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