6,000 years ago, man asked the horse not just for his flesh for food, but for his obedience in our quest for land and power. The horse delivered.

Two centuries ago, we began to record and plan the Master Race of horse.  A horse imbued with all the qualities we hold dear – strength, fortitude, courage, determination and grace. We asked the horse to show us these things in contests that might take his life – and the horse delivered.

We saddled the horse with our hopes and dreams – we celebrated his Glory as if it were our own and when he disappointed us, we turned our backs and looked forward to a new generation that might again deliver that thrill that shakes our deepest souls.


“Thoroughbreds” by Louis Icart

We glorified him in ways he didn’t understand.

To say that the horse doesn’t understand Triumph is to undermine his nature and the dignity he deserves and the sacrifices he makes.

The horse finds comfort in  safety and he will always recognize and honor kindness. He knows that gentleness may come from strength or from innocence.

He asks silently for fresh air, room to move, a tribe.  If in addition, he could

Wind Lady with Black Horse by Luis Icart

receive friendship – he  lends us his back and harnesses himself to our hopes  to be able to rise above the terra firma as he bears us, albeit more slowly, toward Glory.

We passed the inferior, the wounded and the meek horses on in hopes that they might touch the humans who society deems inferior, wounded or meek.

Without complaint, the horse delivered.

The horse is my conduit on my path to God.  Whenever I make strides, not towards greatness, but toward humility and gratitude, the horse is there before me, waiting to deliver me to my next destination on the path to being awakened.

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