Wednesday, August 13, 2008
I do some of my best thinking in Silk’s stall. Whenever I have a problem, it’s the first place that I go. If my sweet horse is actually occupying her bedroom, I usually just drape my arms across her and lean my head on her. It’s better than an aspirin or a tranquilizer. She knows. She just rests under me, solid as a big red tree.
The funny thing though is that my creative thoughts really flow like crazy when the horses are in the pasture, and I’m alone cleaning Silk’s stall. Sometimes, I have to stop, drop the muck fork and run back to my computer in the house before I forget my latest idea. I’ve started carrying a little notebook and a pen in my pocket when I go to the barn.
I think it’s because Silk is my muse. She creates an atmosphere of peace and understanding in the barn. I don’t get these flashes of insight on Siete’s side. She’s too young and hasn’t had the life experiences that her mama has. There’s some scent of wisdom mixed in with the horsey odors where Silk lives, and it inspires me to reach deeper into myself without fear or judgment. Maybe someday, I’ll win the National Book Award, and I can say that I owe it all to my horse.