Some horses don't defend themselves. Others might toss their heads, kick or bolt, but this kind stays still, their eyes become bigger, glaze over, their body shrinks and tightens. They tuck their tail, contract their mouth, grunt or gasp trying to tell us humans to back down because they are having trouble. But we don't listen, we don't see their struggle and we continue with our demands, our loud aids, our whips and reins and spurs. 

The gelding I have been taking care of for the past ten years is such a horse. Gentle, obedient, still. And facing no resistance, we humans drive and push all the more, we want to develop, form, improve, reach our goals. It took me a long time to understand that the lack of fightback in a horse doesn't necessarily equal understanding.

But the horse countered my ignorance and my impatience with softness and loyalty. With helplessness and attentive eyes, maybe hoping - I don't know if horses are capable to feel hope - that I would change for the better. 

This is why I write this blog. 

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