TRIUMPH OF SPIRIT IN LOVE, NATURE & ART

Posts tagged “Horses

Visions of Summer in Winter

Apparition

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Late Summer Visions

Poetry is gone, visions my only words.

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The Horrors of Horse Racing

All that you see on this video is true.  This is just the tip of the iceberg.  My brother worked on many racetracks, including Belmont, and he told us stories that were heartbreaking.  He finally got out of the race track business because he loved horses but could not abide the cruelty of how horses were treated.  The video explains…


“Talk to Me!”

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What I loved about this horse is that he looks as if he is about to say, “Tell me all about it!”  Actually he is a rescue that became a therapy horse at Lucky Orphans Horse Rescue in Millbrook, New York.  He gives handicapped children rides and companionship so valuable to them.  Like so many animals, he gives so much for mere maintenance in return.  An exceptional soul.  


Soulful Eyeful

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It being the holidays

missing

loved ones

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one of the most loved

one of the best teachers

a little dog

Ko-Ko

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all innocence

all love

all pure soul

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oh, to nuzzle her fur

smell her dander

feel her tongue

upon my face

and her fluffy fur

against my skin

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and Dutchie

another innocent

another tactile teacher

peace personified

oh to hold her in my lap

as she sleeps

and have her total trust

lying on blue-jeaned legs

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oh for a visit

from either

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or another gift

from Ko-ko

who shared a vision

of the beyond

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after she passed

now

no wee ones

just an ache

where love still lives


Spirits Past and the Mystical Bliss of Horses

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It is almost Christmas, and my birthday, and today I cried reading an old birthday email from my sister.  She signed it “Lisa the Pizza, Tony Baloney and the rest of the gang ‘up there’,” meaning my brother, and my mother and father.

“Tony  Baloney” died two years and a half ago, leaving behind three adopted children whom he adored and who adored him, and a loving wife.  My father and mother died 25 and 20 years ago, as impossible as that seems.  Dad and Mom died this time of year.  And my best friend, Wendi, died shortly after.  All of cancer of some sort or the other.  But they all loved horses.

We now live in Millbrook — horse country.  Horse farms dot the countryside.  My father and mother and Wendi would have adored it.  My brother was the only one to visit Millbrook, coming with his family whom we put  up at a nearby horse ranch. They all  had the time of their lives.  One of my fondest memories of my brother is from that visit.  We are holding hands as he is relaxing after a day of riding with his kids.  He is drinking and smoking (what eventually killed him) and we are taking in the sunset on the porch of the dude ranch.

I love horses, too.  It is in my blood.  Dad played the horses and my brother worked on several racetracks, including Belmont.  Now I abhor horse-racing,  finding it cruel.  My brother had horror stories to tell of how the horses were drugged and run hurting.  I have seen horses being put down– all for a senseless sport.  Dad and I would quarrel about this if he were still alive.

I remember stroking a horse once at a show nearby and the bliss I felt was mystical in a most spiritual way.  I wanted that moment to last forever.  And the happiest I have ever seen my husband was on a moonlit ride we took in a canyon in Arizona on our honeymoon.  Horses bring happiness. My husband knows it. Dad knew it.  Tony knew it, Wendi knew it and to some extent, Mom knew it.

Too old to ride now I pet horses when I can, and admire them as we drive by horse farms.  I photograph them when the spirit moves me.  I ache inside for my parents who would have adored it here in our little barn.  For my brother, the cowboy, as different from me as night and day, but bonded by a deep love and shared losses.  For my friend, Wendi, with whom I shared a not-to-be replicated link of love.  Merry Christmas, Tony Baloney, Mom, Dad, Wendi!

My blessing comes from the love I share with my husband who married me despite my mental illness. It comes, too,  from our spiritual connection to nature. I admire my husband who works with society’s outcasts as a clinical social worker.  My giving is on a much smaller scale– tiny things here and there– online activism and such.  You play the hand you are dealt.

Christmas can be a hard time, and New Year’s, too, and I know there will be the inevitable meltdown into tears over losses of loved ones, over mortality, over our material nature.  And perhaps you will also have your own moment of bleakness.  But I hope that you, too, will be able to touch your bliss at Christmas and find a blossoming hope for the new year.

Blessings of joy to all!!


For the Love of a Horse

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Oh to be one with you,

White-marked Third Eye,

to mount you

and ride you into forever

to nuzzle my nose

in your silky mane

to smell your hot breath

upon my face

and feel your tongue

upon my cheek

to smell the sweetness

of your leavings

and

hear your hoofs

against the road

and your snorts

as you run

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my love for you

is from a distance

though once

we danced together

and

 you nuzzled

me out of depression

and into bliss

oh how I miss

those magic moments

when we were one.


A Hug Without Arms

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Do they think because

we have no arms

we do not hug?

Do they think because

we have smaller brains

we do not love?

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We hug

neck to neck,

chest to chest,

coat to coat,

in a warm embrace

of pure love,

a love as pure

as theirs,

perhaps more so.

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They think

we do not love

because it makes it easier

for them to drug us

for so-called sports,

for their so-called fun,

and race us past injury,

and, yes, they even kill us

for their gustatory pleasure.

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All we want to do

is love our families

and run free.

But we are willing

to serve them

if they treat us right.

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Now I ask you:

who here is superior?


Joie de Vivre

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No words needed

for unadulterated joy


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Patterns Repeated

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