Wednesday, 24 February 2010

The emptiness of change

Life can change so fast sometimes that it reminds us to live in the moment and not become complacent.  It is good to be reminded that everything changes in every moment – form arises and dissolves.  Last Tuesday I had a great time with both horses working on ground exercises with them in the arena.  It was so good to be with Red, working with him more closely than I have in a while.  He is such a fascinating mixture of sweetness and belligerence, willingness and stubborness.

Then by Thursday I was too ill to drive to the yard.  It hit me so fast, and I am still recovering.  We went up together on Saturday, but I was too shaky to walk down the field for Dee.  I wish I'd had my camera with me.  It was such a wonderful thing to watch her walk up with 'ö-Dzin – not too close, but continually looking across and checking he was still there.  Then she waited patiently for him at the gate and put her head in the head collar. 

The weather is also so changeable – one day quite warm and then snow the following day.  There is a magical quality of seeing the world through flakes of falling snow; the greyness of the sky with hints of rainbow colours; blazing red-gold sunsets; brave buds and sprouting plants.

And then there are the sadder changes – the emptiness of loss.  Two of my blog friends have lost their horses in recent weeks: first Cilla of Front Shoes Only lost Lizzie last month, and now Linda at 7MSN has lost Lyle.  I feel I know these people and have loved their horses even though I only know them through reading their blog.  A little cold shiver runs down my back mirroring the wetness of my face as I read of their loss.

I'm blogging when I should be going to bed because I didn't enjoy being in bed last night,  I didn't sleep much for coughing.  But tonight is another night and so it will be different.  There is no point in anticipating an unpleasant night – I might sleep deeply and well.  Even if I do not sleep it is still a new night, a new experience and will not be the same as last night.  I may feel refreshed and have my strength back in the morning.  Whatever the night or the morning brings it will be a unique experience and there will be something to appreciate through my senses if I am open enough to embrace that. 

And so... good night.


Rin'dzin Pamo (@awbery) said...

I'm so sorry to hear of your sudden and rather drastic illness - I hope you recover quickly. It's inspiring that you can enjoy and appreciate so much even while ill.


Victoria Cummings said...

I hope you are feeling better. This is the time of year when things always look most dark to me. You're so right about impermanence. It's unavoidable, and I believe that how we deal with loss really defines us. One amazing hopeful thing is that when something sad happens to our blogging friends, so many of us feel so deeply touched by it. And that is proof of a connectedness around the world that didn't exist just a few years ago. It's a great gift.

Grey Horse Matters said...

I hope you've completely recovered and are feeling well by now. The weather I'm sure should be lovely too and you should be able to enjoy your horses once again.

Nor’dzin said...

Thank you for your good wishes. Unfortunately I am still not well. I got quite a lot better and then relapsed rather dramatically a week ago. I'm on my second set of antibiotics now, so let's hope that knocks it on the head at last.