Let me start by saying I have been involved with a unique relationship with horses since I was nine. They have been a cathartic save to my life. Psychologically we shut down in shock, or just do not feel at all when we experience to much pain, tragedy, or mental abuse to young. When we are older and experience these same elements it generally turns to anger. If you have no outlet, four your negative energy, no balance, it turns inward, builds up, hurts you, and those around you. You must first be happy for anyone around you to be happy. Cathartic or not, work on yourself first, your choice, before you use your experiences to work on others.
I remember the first experience I had with a horse, it was in a dream. Some may scoff, others may see the light, and love, but it is my experience. I have an enormous capacity for memory, much to the chagrin of those that have caused me negative energy. However, my memory, is filled also with love, happiness, adventure, and amazing moments of light, I digress. The dream use to reoccur into my twenties. Always a white horse, a beautiful Arabian style head, with an old style quarter horse body. In the beginning, in my dream, this magnificent horse was running towards Highway 401, in a field, alongside the highway, Just outside of Windsor. The highway we always took to my Grandparents, when we crossed the U.S. border, from Windsor to Detroit. I would often wake, in that exact spot on the highway, before Windsor, from having fallen asleep in the care, and say, "Did anyone see the white horse?" It became humorous to my parent's and siblings travelling with us. There was never a white horse. We would stop in Windsor, at my cousins, then proceed to my Grandparent's house in Wesltland, to Glen Street. Where my knight in shinning armour awaited, my Grandpa John.
My first love in life was my Grandpa John, my second horses, my third dogs, they all loved me unconditionally, as I was. On with the white horse. .....
I had suffered, as many have, as a child, sexual abuse, mental abuse, physical abuse; the sexual abuse a neighbours Grandfather. My mind had no where to turn, I was a quiet child, most times, the youngest, in my first Family of four French/Metis children. The White Horse often appeared at moments of transition in my life. Something significant always happened when I saw the White horse.
My Grandfather died, when I was fourteen, May of my fifteenth year, I was devastated. My Mother had remarried, when I was six, and my step Father later adopted me. However, it was my Grandfather that had been the important male figure in my life. He is and will always be with me, in heart, and in spirit.
On the way to my Grandfather's funeral, just outside of Windsor Ontario, my parents were trying to cheer me up. My littlest brother, from this second marriage, was sitting with me in the car. My parent's started to tease, and say remember the White Horse? Just as we approached where I always dream the White horse to be. My Father pulled over, and the car went quiet, for there running towards the fence, in an open field, sided by woods on each side (a hydro tower path), was my White Horse, when the White Horse reached the fence, he tossed his head, his white mane full and flying, a magnificent site, my parents just sat looking at each other in silence. No one ever mentioned it again, as we entered back onto the highway, and continued on the most tragic event of my life, my Grandpa John's funeral.
It was years before I saw my White Horse again, and I had owned a few horses of my own since then, never forgetting my first, in my dreams.
I had almost died with my first son, an unreported hole in my heart. Doctors had thought, that as a child my hole would mend on it's own. Never mentioned, yet the culprit of years of Asthma, and breathing problems during athletic events, the hole remained small and unseen. In pregnancy, the blood pumping for two causing my heart rate to beat faster, and straining the heart beat of my unborn child as he grew, worsening as the time of delivery became closer. 'Healthy hips' the doctor had said, later to find my childhood abuse had damaged my uterus to the point I could never have a child natural and required corrective uterine surgery, so emergency C section it was. As they put me under the anesthetic I could still hear the Dr.'s and nurses talking, I felt the cut of the knife. With clarity I saw the vision of a three year old young boy, with the curliest white hair, and most beautiful long lashed hazel eyes, riding naked, bare back astride my White Horse, hands placed on the withers, relaxed with purpose and direction riding towards earth. The White Horse looked at me, his brilliant eyes kind, as if to say, this is your gift, he will bring you love. I spoke out loud of what I saw, I heard the nurses chuckle. One a personal friend remembered. They announced my son, as I drifted off. When I first saw him he looked nothing like the child of my vision, but by the time he was two, his beautiful, thick, long lashed, hazel eyes, and his, kinky white curls, was bringing much love and adventure to his Father and my life.
My second son, well, times had become tragic, his Father and I were struggling, my health was waning, I was not to have gotten pregnant with him. The Dr.'s had done repair to my uterus, and had known I was pregnant, but felt the baby would abort. They discussed it with my husband, but not me. It was to the surprise of my husband, and Dr. when I started having morning sickness a month after the surgery. Both husband, at the time, and Dr. being adamant, I had to have an abortion or I would never bare another child. I looked at them as if they were both insane, and told them I guess I will never have another child, because this one was meant to be, or he would not be inside me. The were more prepared near the end, I spent three weeks in the hospital, luckily I had other friends there also having children, we were able to entertain ourselves from boredom. Again another C section 21 months after my first son, and six months after my Uterine suspension, the anaesthetised me. Again my White Horse appeared as I heard the nurse, a friend of mine, say, "OH, what a beautiful girl", then I heard the Dr. say "can you not see that", but I had already known, as the White Horse looked at me in my vision, with a three year old golden, curly, haired, blond boy, bareback astride it, hands on withers riding towards earth.
Both my boys, have been my light, my love, my sanity, and strength. There were times I never thought I would make it, but for them. They also have had to endure, loss, pain, disappointment. However, they have always remained my strength, light, and love. Independent, with purpose, they carry on in their own lives. My brilliant lights, my warriors.
I have had many horses, but never a white horse. Each horse has always had the white base coat. Oddly Quarter Horse Paint crosses. Always special and enlightening. My first horse was a Mare I named Brandy Wine, my second a foal I imprinted from birth, named Buddy, my third a Registered Palomino/Sabina named Lacey. Lacey gave me two foals, Lew, a beautiful red Dun Tobiano, with a Bear head and shoulders on his chest, and the full body of the bear climbing under his left side belly, on his right shoulder he had a hill of red dun color with a Mama bear near the top, and two cubs climbing up. On his back right hind quarters he had the map of Florida with two little islands; her second foal was Abbey, 'Abbeniezer sneazer' a more golden Dun, with white socks, and a white blaze. Abbey gave me Dancer, Dancer wanted to be a buckskin, but with her black mane and tail and black socks, she still had one white cannon. With the cartoon Sheep dog sitting on her face in white. A golden sheen coming through, almost a bronze copper coat. All registered Paints, I had bred back to Quarter Horse/thoroughbred lines. Beautiful, loving, grounded spirits, well except Lew, but that is another story. :) But never a White Horse..... I think when my son's have Children, I will buy a white foal, to signify a new beginning.
Thank you for sharing... God Bless
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