Wild horses

Why horses? Why now? Maybe I’m projecting that people are wondering why my feed is suddenly equine forward. (I’m definitely projecting, I've been asking myself the same question).

The draw isn't new, but the call - especially now - has felt impossible to ignore. It arrived quietly with the serendipitous invite from a friend, and like a song I couldn't quite place, it kept me humming its familiarity.

What I kept assuming though, is that the story began with the horses themselves.

But I think that's the wrong place to start.

In this lifetime, I think it started with Barney.

I still don't know how to explain the way we communicated without sounding like I'm reaching for something that doesn't fit neatly into words.

The subtlety is what strikes me the most now in retrospect. I ‘understood’ him, yes. I received messages, colours, feelings. But most of the time is was a whole answer - complete, unmistakable, no outward sign.

Over our almost decade together, the soul relationship built on presence had a deep trust beneath logic.

The first time I spent time with horses recently, the first time in decades, something in me knew the same language was being established. It felt as though I wasn't learning something new at all. It felt like remembering.

Like I'd stumbled into something I already knew.

I followed quiet invitations not because it was new territory, but rather old.

I’m grateful that my mind gets quieter. There is very little to solve.

Very little to perform. Very little to understand.

But mostly, it’s that it’s reminding me of something that isn’t forgotten. Something much bigger than myself.

Maybe that's why the timing no longer feels strange.

Maybe the horses didn't appear after the loss.

Maybe Barney was quietly leading me there all along.