I had a friend who was prone to bouts of depression. She was
one of the most talented and brave people I have ever known. Still, waves of self-doubt
and despair would sweep over her now and then. Modern medicine’s pharmaceutical
solutions only made these waves deeper and fiercer.
In the depth of one of these episodes, she had a vivid
dream. In it, she rode a horse and her spirit soared. She woke up and remembered
that as a child she not only rode horses regularly, but had lessons in dressage,
and it always centered her spiritually. Those were happy times, and she had
somehow forgotten all about them.
My friend bought a horse. Her horse was housed in a saddlery
nearby. He was an older horse who had been neglected. Dressage was no longer on her horse’s menu.
But my friend went on to ride him and even knitted him a special blanket.
Caring for him, brushing him, and going on country trails together healed them
both.
I’m no horse woman, but my friend’s healing informed me
also. There are times when what is needed is remembrance of simpler happier
times, and revival of what made them so. For me it’s a good cup of coffee with
a loved one. My father used to take me to European style cafes that
proliferated in West Jerusalem, and we’d sit and talk. We could do this at
home, but it was not the same.
This ritual is my horse.
There’s the tale of the knight who comes to the rescue on a
white horse. Some say the Messiah will be riding a white horse to the gates of Jerusalem.
We all need a horse now and then.
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