Taking a Ride
He takes leave of me with “some pace”, as my father in law used to say. He’s powerful, and that is why I use him for so much. I need him. He’s powerful. It’s a wonder that he works for me. He’s more powerful than me, but it is as though he is dependent upon me. He isn’t though, and I know it. I feel like I am putting on an act for him, as if I know he needs me more than I need him, but I do know that I am the one who depends on him.
He lives in a duality. He has a natural power that transcends my daily existence, yet he is devoted to my needs. He does not have to be compliant with my wishes. He could throw me in an instant with a slight exertion of his own power, yet he is willing to let me make the decisions. I don’t think of this fact often, but when I do, it astounds me.
Sometimes I see his own will independent of mine. I have stood and watched, with him not engaged with me, and watched the force with which he has galloped off toward something that caught his interest. It seems to me that he should be allowed to go his own way at times. When I see him do so, I can see the desire in it. It is like watching the power of nature, and I do not like containing nature. I feel grateful to be immersed in it…to observe it.
I learned to ride quite young. It is not that I did it younger than anyone could. It is only that my parents were interested in teaching me how to ride. My father taught me that I should always respect his power. He taught me that he was far more powerful than me, but that if I respected him, he would work for me. In fact, if I built a solid relationship with him, he would work for me like he worked for no other. Even when I was a kid I saw how he was more dedicated to me than he was to my dad, and dad clearly had mastered this portion of the journey that he was guiding me through. Early on, I saw that dad was right. He was mine, and I knew it.
Mom said different things about him. Mom always said to respect his dignity. He deserved it. He had a life and required nurturing. He had needs, and it was my responsibility to provide them. I could be judged by his health, and whether that was anyone’s right or not, it was bound to happen. There were a number of principles for his care, and I should hew to them on principle, rather than for the approval of those who might be watching or judging. This, she said, would be important because I would always need him.
Mom and dad are gone now, but oddly enough, he’s still with me. I wondered when mom passed if this would continue, but I kept it up. I didn’t see him for a few days, but I went back to how I was taught when I could. He’s still with me, and he’s healthy. He’s good. We’re good. He still surprises me at times, but we work better than ever now. He’s a great connection to my parents for me. It let’s me know that they are never really gone.
He’s my mind.