Reality Shoes
There is a challenge with being a positive person. It’s called, reality. Reality has two feet. Sometimes two left feet. Reality is the reason for the phrase, “waiting for the other shoe to drop.” The other shoe always does.
Now, if a positive person were somehow able to wield enough favorable influence over outcomes, the dropping of that other shoe of reality might always be a really great thing. In my experience, the world doesn’t work that way, so all an optimist can do is choose a way to find some good in whatever shows up when that other shoe lands.
The battle might be seen as a tug of war between the Pollyanna principle and depressive realism. As a former depressive living ‘in recovery’ —with optimism being my sobriety— I find myself needing to overcome an unconscious tendency to grab hold of gloomy reality when it steps into my life. I will grasp it a bit too tightly, which allows it to lead my astray, pulling me away from the fresh air of the glad game that I have been breathing.
Yesterday, while walking Delilah through the drainage ditch beside our fields, we found the horses grazing up on a high spot, exposed to the wind. It surprised me, because it wasn’t a particularly warm breeze, but there they were. We were moving slowly, as I allowed Delilah to ravenously explore to her heart’s desire. The horses showed interest in our arrival.
As we slowly made our way along the ditch, they followed at an unhurried pace, closing the distance to the fence. It’s not always clear whether one horse in particular is setting their course, or they all share the same interest when they move like this. I wanted to respond to their approach by doing the same, but the electric fence was on, so I didn’t.
Eventually, Delilah and I reached the end of the ditch by the road, where there is a gate. I leaned on the gate and paused. Hunter had traveled the farthest along with us, but it was Cayenne who then approached me at the fence. We shared a magical few minutes of intimacy there, sharing breath and mystical energy.
I don’t know why.
When Cyndie got home, late, after a hard day, at the end of her hard week, I got a dose of reality. I grabbed it tight. It woke me early in the darkness of hours that are best spent sleeping. I followed it as it led me where I know I don’t want to go. Then I thought of that experience with Cayenne.
It was real.
The other stuff, not so much.
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Relative Something 
Re:We shared a magical few minutes of intimacy there, sharing breath and mystical energy – yes, it is a myth to think you have to ride a horse to experience that spell, that transcending presence, that suddenly you are invited to share. You feel enveloped in positive energy, don’t you? Indeed, at such time there is no space for doubt and devils.
Ian Rowcliffe
January 18, 2015 at 5:47 am
I knew you would recognize what I had experienced. It is like a gift that a horse graciously bestows, isn’t it.
johnwhays
January 18, 2015 at 10:36 am
Indeed and, most often, it takes us by surprise, so that we feel immensely blessed. It is this phenomenon, that ‘earths’ the autistic child, so it can be remarkably empowering and part of a healing process. I believe that certain horses in the herd tend to take on the role of healer in this way although this role can be passed on. For example, in our herd it has gone from Lucy to Doll. To think that Doll was quite the upstart but now is a calming influence. However, when one horse is sick, I have noticed how the whole herd tends to set up a protective supporting rapport with it, often forming a circle round it.
Ian Rowcliffe
January 18, 2015 at 10:50 am
Lovely and right on.
Jane
January 17, 2015 at 9:59 am
Thank you for that.
johnwhays
January 18, 2015 at 4:38 am