Meditation of a Horse

You do not wait for me, or beckon me or even welcome me. If I choose, you allow me to ride you. Permission is granted without request. You read my mind if I want you to walk, canter, or gallop. You know intuitively what I need.

As we ride, you are not emotive. We are not connected emotionally. You are your own spirit, your own being. You are detached, but not cold. I connect with you through a shared feeling of freedom and safety.

You, like the sand, the ocean, the sky, the mountains or the birds, do not accept or reject me. These are not qualities that inhabit your realm. You live like any creature in nature. Without attachment. Without need. Without want. Only to exist.

The ocean permits me to swim in it. The sand permits me to walk in it. The mountains permit me to climb them. Birds permit me to hear their song. And just as a tree permits me to rest against its trunk and seek shelter in its shade, you permit me to ride you.

And when I ride you, I feel the freedom from emotion and experience the feeling of nothingness. As we ride, we come upon the Tree of Life and as I dismount to find refuge under its large branches, but you do not follow. You remain alone.

As I rest, a feeling of loneliness washes over me. I have suddently lost the feelings of safety and freedom and need to be near you. The need is desperate and so I beckon to you. And as you near me, the feeling disappears almost as quickly as it came.

I run my hands over your face. I am compelled to look into your eyes. I am searching for something and I do not know what. And then I understand why I wanted you near. Of all the things I see in your eyes, compassion, love, strength, courage, and wisdom, there is something else, something more, and something greater. I see God.

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