Wally Gives Me a Lesson In Serenity

It is Sunday morning and I brought a folding chair and the only TV stand I own over to my new house.  It is not quite finished, but the phone and Internet service were restored Friday morning.  So... here I am in this wonderful little home, having my morning tea and cream, and writing the first blog from the new office.  The view is to the south and west now, entirely opposite of the old view.  I wonder what will change? 

The dogs are confused.  They know I am in this house, but they are hanging around the old house, not quite sure where they are supposed to station themselves in order to be my constant companions and protectors.  (Well, in Jake's case, the constant Irritant Supreme.)

I can see ALL of the birds who frequent the small feeder hanging in the old "front yard".  There are so many!  I had no idea such a small amount of seed would attract so many, and such a variety of birds.

Building a new house has been a very long and drawn out experience of disappointment and anxiousness.  Though  the end is in sight, there are many things that must happen yet.  Despite myself, I worry about what could easily go amiss, taking this beautiful little corner of the earth away from me. 

Thursday was farrier day for my horses Ginger and Wally.  Ginger was her normal stubborn self.  When you are the queen of the known universe, you do not have to worry about keeping anyone but yourself happy.  Wally, bless his big lovable heart, gave me a much needed lesson in serenity.  As he has grown accustomed to being the apple of every one's eye, he has gradually assumed a regal and haughty demeanor.  He does not even acknowledge me when I bring his oats in the morning!  He has also decided he does not have to move out of my way.  If I crowd him, he moves toward me.  Not in a threatening way - just letting me know who rules the kingdom, in his not so humble opinion. 

He wanted to rub his big head against me because he had to wear his halter.  It must be a fairly significant horse insult.  I finally slapped his neck quite forcefully, and I could feel a spike of self-righteous anger filling my belly.  He got that message loud and clear.  Later when he did not want to behave for Terrie and started crowding her, I was greatly dismayed.  Terrie told me not to start expecting him to behave like that, so I immediately took a deep breath and relaxed.  Wally immediately stopped misbehaving.  As I made a conscious effort to remain unworried and calm, thinking of how happy I was to have Wally and Ginger in my life, and how grateful I was for Terrie's expertise and genuine care for the welfare of my horses, and more such thoughts, Wally's eyes began to droop as Terrie trimmed and filed and sanded his hooves.  I entered into that safe and quiet state of mind that is a horse's preferred and natural state of being.  I once knew this effortlessly and perfectly as a child around my father's horses, but I had forgotten its essence entirely as an adult.  Oh, I knew to remain calm, but I had forgotten what it felt like to enter into that easy state with the horse.  But Wally reminded me.  I have been a little bit high on life since Thursday when Wally showed me once again how easy and desirable it is to be in the moment, and to appreciate the simple fact that we are alive.