Wild Horses

On my way back from Colorado, I decided to swing up through the Black Hills. I'd never been there and thought I'd be a tourist for a bit. What I expected was some beautiful scenery and an overwhelming amount of tourist opportunities. I wasn't disappointed in that regard, but I found it to be so much more.

It was October, so the bulk of the tourist season was over. There was a crispness in the air, color in the trees and that feeling of aliveness that one often feels in the Autumn. I made the required stop at Mt. Rushmore and then went on to the Crazy Horse Monument. This, I felt, was so much more impressive. More massive in scope, and somehow more massive in energy. It felt like something was coming to life, again, that had long lain dormant. That was in contrast to the old white guys on Mt. Rushmore. Not to insult our former Presidents, but seeing their chiseled faces up on a mountain just seemed wrong.

Crazy Horse, on the other hand, was a part of this land. It seems fitting that he is springing to life once again, straight out of that land and rock. I thought his likeness was gorgeous -- if it is his likeness. No one is exactly sure what he looked like, since there were no photos taken of him. Not to my knowledge, anyway. But the representation of him is splendid. Big.

I decided to take a detour south, to the Black Hills Wild Horse Sanctuary, outside of Hot Springs, South Dakota. It turned out to be a very magical day.

It, too, was a crisp, sunny October day when I drove the few miles out towards nowhere, turned onto a long gravel road and arrived at the little Visitors' Cabin at the Sanctuary. It being late in the season, I got lucky. In lieu of the standard tourist bus ride through the designated route, I was treated to a special tour, compliments of one of the women staff members. She loaded me and a very nice Wisconsin couple into her truck and off we went.

Thousands of acres of land, bought with the express purpose of giving wild horses a place to live and remain wild. Dayton Hyde, the man with the vision, started this enterprise with his own money because he felt the wild horses he saw penned up deserved a place to be wild and free, again. It has grown over the years, but still remains a product of that vision and passion.

We bumped and thumped along, catching glimpses of various herds, surrounded by rock canyon walls and the Cheyenne River. And nothing. There aren't many places I am, ever, where you don't hear noise. The only things I could hear were the wind, birds, the sound of hoof beats if we got too close, and the whispers of the Ancestors who once occupied this land.

It remains a sacred place to the Native Americans. They gather each year for their Sun Dance right in the middle of this vast horse-land. Coexistence at its finest.

Arriving back at the Visitors' Center, I mentioned that I had just completed training in Equine Massage. I was asked if I would help one of their very aged mares, who now lived near the Center. Would I??

Down in Colorado in training, we worked on the old horses one day. I felt so privileged to do this. Their bones creaked, their eyes held the wisdom of the ages and the soft Colorado breezes made me feel how much of a gift I was being given.

These horses were, for the most part, very well taken care of. They had probably known many owners, many homes, many jobs and now were in retirement.

The horses at the Wild Horse Sanctuary were just about the antithesis of this. Talk about contrasts! They had lived free, been rounded up, stuck in pens somewhere, and then brought here to South Dakota. These were indeed the lucky ones.

Wild horses seem intertwined with our sense of being American, of who we are as a people. In theory, anyway, we idealize freedom and will fight to the death to defend it. What could represent freedom better than a wild horse? Even non-horse lovers seem to identify with them.

So, here I was, running my hands over a "wild" horse -- a mare who'd had her share of babies and was now full of arthritis. She deserved to spend her days in the sun, in as much comfort as could be managed, and peace. What every living thing deserves.

I didn't want to leave her. I could sense I was bringing her some relief and for that, she was so grateful. I couldn't make her young again. I couldn't get her to run free amongst those canyons, again. Not in this physical body, anyway. But in her mind, I could imagine, that's exactly where she was. What a gift she gave to me that day. Magic.

Often, on a day when the noise, and pollution, and development, and people, make me sad and crazy, I think about those horses -- running wild and free. And, in my mind, at least, I know a bit of that freedom. I run with them, and feel the wind.