 The scent of pine shocked me back to my senses. I had been mulling over my friend
again being too busy to spend time going on a trail ride with me. But being stood
up was not going to deter me from enjoying the rare warm sunny winter day.
I was on automatic. I loaded the trailer and checked the lights. Through the
whole thing I was steaming over the rejection. I was overwhelmed with sadness
that our friendship had not survived our going to separate barns and spending
less time together. I loaded Santana in the trailer. Less experienced, he provided
me with an edge of uncertainty about the day and he would benefit from the time
out. After all, I could use the ride as a training exercise. I was focused on
self-pity, but Santana didn't tolerate such nonsense. He promptly stepped on
my foot to let me know I had more important things to think about. I drove to
the park, letting the songs on the radio fill the emptiness I felt within.
While tacking up, a man on an energetic young horse came up to say hello. When
was the last time I met someone new? We talked easily, no tension of trying to
find something to say- just shared moments with another who had taken advantage
of the beautiful day to enjoy his horse. He wished me a wonderful ride and I was
off.
As I started down the usually well-groomed path, it disappeared beneath thick leaves, a product of the changing seasons. I went on instinct, winding around the newly fallen trees, testimony to the harsh winter we had experienced less than two weeks ago. The deeper we ventured into the forest, the more pronounced the silence became. I was not prepared for this profound quiet. Unlike the summer rides, there were no singing birds, no boats motoring in the harbor below us, no blaring radios in the picnic area. Even my thoughts were loud and dramatically out of place. It was then that I realized that this ride was not about me and my girlfriend.
The ride was about me and my horse gliding through a world totally isolated from
the craziness going on around and inside of us. I took a deep breath and the aroma
of pine cut through what remained of my sorrow. I looked around at the vertical
wall of tree trunks that surrounded us and knew that I would not have noticed
these things if the day had gone as I had planned.
Instead the silent conversation was between me and Santana. My eyes followed
his ears, ever attentive to the sights and muffled sounds of the forest. My heart
skipped a beat when I heard the thunderous sound of leaves rustling as the squirrels
hunted for food. I am convinced that I am becoming more like him every day. There
are times when I can see the world through his eyes where each moment counts and
life threatening decisions need to be made around every bend.
I wonder if he could exist in my world - frantic Christmas shopping, paying bills, people enveloped in falseness, the pain I see on TV every night, the intense joy of receiving and giving love. I am grateful for the time I can be in his world. It helps me put mine in perspective. This ride turned out not to be a lesson for him, it was for me. Once again, the
student-teacher relationship turned upside down. I learned never to overlook what
is, for what was. For the moment, I had all I have ever needed.
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