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November 25, 2018: Better Days are Now

I don’t subscribe to the belief that tomorrow will be a better day because tomorrow never comes. Tomorrow is elusive, is always the day after. I do subscribe to the belief that yesterday was not such a good day because it is behind me and I can learn from it.

Yesterday I kept obsessing about the fact my book proposal wasn’t coming along very well – and therefore I had no sense of accomplishment. I have to have it, a sense of accomplishment.

So today – I didn’t dwell on the fact that writing any proposal is an onerous process. I worked on it and tomorrow I will work on it some more. Instead, I focused on other things.

Pete and Ryder look out the kitchen window
Pete and Ryder look out the kitchen window

This morning I got an email from our friend Claudia who with her husband Frank are in Arizona. She said in her message that Hroun, her four year old Icelandic gelding, colicked on Thanksgiving. They took him to a clinic where the veterinarians did surgery. He did not recover and was euthanized a few days later.

The Sihlers are of course, heartbroken. I wrote her back and said I know the feeling – I’m still grieving about the combined losses of Siggi and Signy. In fact, I’ve felt bad every day since their respective deaths. And quite often I feel frustrated because I can’t go back in time and pull them back into the present. They were both spirit horses and Pete and I will always miss them dearly.

Spirit horses, they accompany us on our hero journeys. Right now, we have four in our barn. Ryder is also a spirit dog. Siggi sent her to us.

I also said that when I am down, or when Pete is down about this, that we get the other to focus on the wonderful animals that now reside with us. Then I suggested to Claudia that she do the same, adding that the waves of grief will subside; however they will always be a constant.

And lastly, I said that I’d take a walk today and send positive energy their way.

I did this, late this afternoon. I took Tinni and Tyra out on all our trails. It was blustery and again the sky was, like yesterday, flat gray. But out on the trail, the landscape and Tyra’s coat were red-brown, sepia in color. It was breathtaking watching her exert herself. She ran and bucked and kicked, and squealed and crow hopped. This, I thought, is a horse that owns her own movements. And Tinni, he moved along at a brisk pace, right alongside me.

Every so often Tyra would race back in my direction and skid to a stop, as if to say, I am really something, aren’t I? And I replied “oh yes you are!”

What I’m getting at here is that in observing this wonderful horse, I was fully in the moment. And in being in the moment, I momentarily ceased to mourn for Siggi and Signy. I think that, yes, we all need to allow ourselves time to mourn when a human or an animal that we care about passes on. And when the time’s right (and today was the right time), we need to remain cognizant of the joy that resides in the hearts of others and makes itself manifest to us.

Next: 330. 11/26/18: A Conversation with Raudhetta

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