Today as I was brushing out the second tail of the day, after soaking Capprichio’s abscessed foot, and grooming Amadeo, I suddenly looked up and wondered, why do I love this?  Why do I love touching horses?  I was holding the tip of Deo’s tail, and looking at his very fuzzy hamstrings with their winter wisps of long hair.  Why do I love this?  Why is it that the acts of touching, massaging, brushing, picking out feet, stroking the face never get old.  Why is it that a day without those movements is not complete?

I honestly do not know.

My birth chart has absolutely no earth in it.  I am all air, fire and water.  Maybe the deep groundedness of the horses gives a balance to my energetic constitution.  Or I just love them in this deep helpless way.  They take my breath away.  They are happy to see me.  They express that in many ways.  They nuzzle me, they lay their noses on my cheek and ask me to stand there and breathe.  They appreciate my touching.  There is something in the ritual, the connection, the meditative quality of those movements and those moments spent together that soothes me to the bone.  To the soul.

As I said, though, I really don’t know.

(Asked and answered . . . )

ps.  I re-enabled comments on the blog.  My thought of the moment is why cut off conversation anywhere?  (Thank you Nicole),