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Leaning back against the stable wall she welcomed its cold surface. An antidote for a burning emotion that now moved through her body into the heart and into her head, a new awareness. Old forgotten pain stored in cells now eagerly rushed to the surface (second and third chakra issues her consciousness duly noted - personal relationships and self-esteem).
Sighing she gave way to another wave of prickling emotion now rising to paralyze the throat and overflow in childish tears that ran slowly down the contours of her face. ‘The eyes are such narrow faucets for emotion to exit’ she thought distractedly trying to analyze the experience.
She bent her knees and slowly sank to the floor, pitchfork still held before her in both hands. There were mounds of horse manure and soiled bedding. ‘You are mucking-out-yourself’ said the voice of consciousness. Letting go of shit…
Foolishness! She got up and energetically committed herself to the effort of mucking out stables. Pulling the skip outside to the pile she heard someone cheerfully say “Hi there”
Damnation – she’d been spotted!
Composing a smile she returned the question, “And how are you?”
“I’m fine” came the answer “You don’t look so good though, you should get in some help - this is all too much for you. I’ll send over…”
“No!” a little too forceful, she then softened her voice “Thank you, but I’m doing fine, really I am. But thank you anyway, I’ve just got a bit of… flu, that’s all” she lied, and resenting this turned away.
“Sorry I can’t stay and chat…” another lie cast over her shoulder as she beat a hasty retreat back into the stables.
Numbed now and feeling resentful she finished her work, and lifting her riding boot to rest upon the railing she held the hosepipe and watched water swirling into a bucket. A distant sound caught her attention and made her look up.
In a neighboring field before her eyes an ancient pantomime was being played out. She paid closer attention now and observed a child busily fussing her attentions upon a horse that stood tied to a railing.
The horse waited patiently every now and again swinging its great uncomprehending head around to swat a fly, and the child worked on with concentrated intensity. Brushing, combing, cleaning and tending… and slowly weaving an intricate mantle in which she would dress her hero.
Issues of power and seduction being practiced at play.
She watched as the child saddled the horse and pulled herself up onto its back. The beast stood stoically rooted to the spot.
An older woman, the teacher, appeared round the corner and called out “ Don’t let him do that! Kick him and make him walk on forward!”
The child did as she was told and the horse ambled dutifully forward.
“Good girl!” the teacher crowed “Now bring him into this ring we will get him to do some work”
The horses energy level dropped as he entered.
“Come on now!” called the teacher brightly “You must show him who’s boss otherwise he will never listen to you and do as he’s told”.
With a small tightening recognition around the solar plexus and more tears that silently rolled down her cheeks, she turned her gaze inwards and mentally explored the intricate fabric of a cloth she had woven during the course of her life. A cumbersome mantle, heavily bejeweled in which she had from time to time tried to dress her hero’s. Knights in shining armor.
“Ridiculous! Would you ever want to wear such a thing?” her consciousness admonished her,
and she smiled at this thought, through her tears somewhat surprised and a little ashamed to discover such antiquated apparel existed within her.
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