He
complained that lots of the young women on his dating website say they love horses. He
explained that he’s not that guy, not the guy
who wants to care for horses. This is discouraging
to him.
I
sipped my coffee and didn’t think much about it. I may have said something inane like “I loved
horses once too.” Truth is that as a
child, I would gallop down the sidewalk on my own imaginary white horse named
Sugar. I was riding to Grandma’s house
to protect her from thugs. During the day, I checked all the horse books out of
the school library and I read them with a flashlight under the covers in bed at
night. Although I don’t have a horse now
or ever plan to own one, if I were a young woman today, in my wildest
imagination, I still might say I love horses.
I grew
up sensibly and left horses behind along with some well-loved dolls and Nancy
Drew. I didn’t recycle those early loves
into broader animal rescues or campaigns to save the whales. I
don’t think of pets in the same category as my children. I have moved on. And yet, when he asked that quasi-rhetorical
question, “Why do all these women seem to love horses?” I thought, for a
moment, that I must know the answer, in much the same way that I think I will
recall the name of the woman who sat next to me in church last Sunday if I’m
given enough time. I tell myself that I’m
sure I’ll recognize it when I hear it again.
Then
this morning, I heard it again, in the thundering hooves of a herd of horses
racing freely across the Idaho plains. Horses run like the wind, with heads high, manes free-falling and tangling. They
kick out at danger and heave breath through those equine noses to snort their
indignation or warn one another. They are powerful and beautiful and free.
I heard
it in the sound of a Native American flute and the commentary of two filmmakers.
I saw it on Youtube through the lens of
a camera. It’s extraordinary. You can
see it here: https://youtu.be/O7kbTaMoJRE
And,
ah, I knew. At one point, the music is
silenced as these words come on screen: “Strong Women Wild Horses.” One strong woman has carried a camera to
document the treatment of these horses.
One strong woman describes her art, saying, “I didn’t want to be the one
to focus on the dark side of it. I
wanted to show the beauty because I feel like beauty will inspire change.” The film’s closing statement is, “The most
beautiful thing is just seeing them wild.”
This isn’t about the plight of horses, but about what they are when not ‘plighted.’
And so,
the second time you watch it, you
too might glimpse why many young girls for a time
intuitively choose to run as these horses run, pause and pasture as they do,
lift their heads and assume a similar strong posture. Then, as we grow into our own roles and responsibilities, our lives become fenced in. Some find safe pasture. Some of us, tragically, are left with no alternative other than to accept our plight and even forget what life was like when not-plighted. Eventually, I'm guessing that most of us stop thinking about our infatuation with horses.
Unless it comes up on a questionnaire, perhaps.
Yes, I love horses.
Unless it comes up on a questionnaire, perhaps.
Yes, I love horses.
