Still in the vjnanamaya, that dimension of being that reflects our creative self. This poem from that place, that dimension, is about a real horse-being, one of my earliest horse teachers from the time when I began to remember:
Daisy's Story
When Daisy flips her head
you might think her
skittish
and head-shy
just a stubborn child's pony
with wily pony ways.
You would be mistaken.
When Daisy flips her head
she is telling you a secret
hers
and yours.
When Daisy nuzzles your hair
listen
and listen with all of your heart.
When Daisy touches your hands
remember
and honor that remembering.
When Daisy flips her head
look
and look closer.
What do you see?
Is it a trick of the desert light?
spiraling impossibly
shimmering with clarity?
Could it be the horn
the horn of the unicorn?
Daisy has a story about that
Ask her to tell you.
And just for fun, Daisy was the original 'bad-ass unicorn'. Daisy has long since passed over the rainbow bridge. But her gifts linger on, inspiring me to continually remember. Namaste Daisy, Namaste.
No comments:
Post a Comment