Go Ahead And Dream, It’s Healthy.

All dreams are harbored deep inside and cost something to bring into the light… 

Some of my earliest horse memories begin with my mother recounting stories of terrible accidents that had occurred to people she knew in her small Idaho farming community. I’ll be honest, I don’t remember what prompted these horrific tales, but looking back on it now I must have talked to her about my desire to ride horses, or own a horse, and so she felt the need to warn me about the possible dangers I would be facing.

The next clear memory of me and horses involved an older cousin I looked up to, a jubilant day in October, and a slightly muddy pasture. I was ten, and my mother had decided to travel to Idaho from our home in Utah to enlist the help of her doctor-brother to assist her in giving birth to her tenth child. Two of my younger siblings and myself were included in the event, and for me, any reason to visit my cousins was reason enough, and so I gladly tagged along.

I was ten … it was the tenth month in the year … it was my mother’s tenth child … he was born on the tenth day of the month. An excessive amount of tens here I admit, but that is the reality of it I assure you. I wonder now, was it possible that the universe was marking this time in my soul, pointing the way with the repeated number 10? A number that is known universally to signify the perfection of something? That is a question that still awaits a full answer since my horse dream is barely underway. Or perhaps all the number tens swirling around were simply a part of one enormous picture of everything that felt so good and right in that exact moment for all of us.

Whatever the case, I don’t remember what prompted that ride with my cousin Rosalie, nor do I remember anything leading up to it, or much afterward. The only thing that clearly sticks out in my memory is the cool wind whipping across my cheeks, the twinkle in my eye, and the laugh rippling out from somewhere deep inside as the horse galloped raucously over the scarred earth indented by fellow livestock foraging for food. The smell of farm air on the somewhat grey day enlivened me in an unexpected way and inspite of my mother’s diligent schooling I was completely unafraid.

Riding behind her with my scrawny ten year old arms wrapped as tightly as possible around her waist was a small assurance that I would stay mounted. Eventually, the extreme bumping and back and forth twisting of the animal’s hind quarters as it moved across the uneven ground unseated me, and I slipped to one side of the horse. One thin leg hooking across its haunches was the only thing that stood between me and the fast moving earth beneath us. In an effort to right myself I held tighter to my cousin, which only succeeded in making her began to slip to one side as well.

She called my name and reached down to pull me back onto the horse. Her eyes widened and so did mine. In her gaze my ten year old brain comprehended her panic and the understanding that she was responsible for me. My eyes had widened as well but for a different reason. Despite her best efforts it became painfully clear even to my still developing intellect that the speed of the horse and the downward pull of something bigger than both of us would make it impossible for her to right the situation. The moment our bright young eyes connected I understood that I had only two choices, I could either let go of her and fall by myself, or tighten my grip and drag her to the ground with me. And so I let go, as freely and unconcerned about what would come next as all unexperienced youth do when they jump off any cliff of any height or configuration.

There is no way to decribe with the most perfect of prose how out of time and space I felt after surrendering to the inevitable. It was as if I had fallen onto a cloud that then lifted me gleefully forward utilizing the centrifical force we were traveling in. After what seemed like a mere breath of time I landed. But was I on the earth, or in some other reality because I certainly hadn’t felt the impact. By now my cousin had managed to rein in the horse, turning its head in my direction. Her eyebrows furrowed in apprehension and concern as she accessed the scene in front of her.

‘Are you okay?” she asked now with a half smile because I was already laughing and picking myself up while at the same time examining my clothes that were striped with mud.

As I said before my memory after that is blank, or at best patchy. How we got back to the house is a mystery still. Did I climb onto the hourse again with my cousin, or did we brave the sucking mud of the paster that constituted the walking path back house; talking and laughing as cousins are want to do. The answer to that question is lost within the recess of my memory. What I can tell you is that I almost strutted into my aunt’s family room, mud and all, and announced to my mother who was holding my newborn brother, “that I had fallen off a horse.” I said it proudly, as if to declare. “See, I survived, and so horses are good after all.”

It would be many years following all those days of tens before I would be able to put my stored up youthful bravato into the weight of my little girl dream. But I am here now, in this moment in time, … and in my not so young years … bringing this dream into the light. Am I on the ground or in another reality? Sometimes I feel the impact and sometimes I feel like I’m being carried on a cloud. One thing is for certain, more often than not, it feels like me, and heaven together, are accomplishing the impossible