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Black Horse

Black Horse

It arrived black like coal, eyes narrow, brows raised, well fed, lightly defined muscular tones. Hesitant to trot, a gallop would be very questionable and obviously a staunch refusal to go into a barn.

A bit fatigued when approached, years questioning the need to be seen, to be stroked, to be free.

Oh, it has seen days of wild roaming, roaring its massive strong head, and never wanting to be tamed nor approached by unfamiliar things. Years spent restless, pastures that could not confine, saddling up, saddling off trying to find comfort and acceptance. Hearing talk about “what good is that horse”, “it’s too fat”, “it’s not strong enough” , “ it’s only a work horse” and “ would never win a prize. “ I truly forgot about it and its existence due to consumption of my own daily thoughts… “too much work”, “too much running around, ” “Never quit”, “ stay strong” , “ finish the race” and “always craving to run free.”

It was an empty class; sun was setting, preparing next for moon meditation.

All of a sudden, she looked at me and asked me about my dark horse. I swallowed, forgetting to practice my breaths. Some guilt rose up where my breath should have been. You see, I never really named her. I knew her well, my dark horse, she has been with me for years but I never loved her, embraced her as I should have, nor stroked her weathered skin or fed her with palms open.

I said that I would have to think about her, how old she is now compared to what she was capable of in years past.

I admitted I kind of liked her, a spirit filled of mystique and an unsettled soul. I always kept her detached from my being, no reigns, and no storms to rely on for safe transport.

That night, after a peaceful savasana, I got to really see her again. I ran my hands over her face and pulled her mane out of her eyes.

I looked in her deep coal eyes and she nodded, letting out a breath of “Om” , it’s like she understood that sound, heard it somewhere before.

I whispered quietly, too faint to hear that I was no longer afraid to let her roam… reigns were no longer necessary. It was good to explore pastures lined with mats of various colors and designs, strong legs and core that endure Utkatasana (chair poses) and the comfort of a child’s pose.

It’s too soon to tell if the dark horse remains wild but it is accepting of the freedom to explore and appreciate pastures filled with tree poses and strengthening postures. This time is different, a strong soothing open palm, a daily one word intention, followed by Ujjayi breathing allows for the dark horse to really see the warrior that owns her.

Marianne Foard is a published author/ writer and is celebrating 6 months into the life of becoming one day a Yogi. In the meantime, she will accept feeling imbalanced and find delight in to setting her dark horse free.

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