On a misty morning, she appeared at my round pen. Her heart was heavy and her soul tattooed with patterns she knew were no longer random. Her wonder had lead her here — her desire to gain mastery over the things she could control and a need to respond with grace to that which she could not. She didn’t fully understand this yet. Not in a way she could voice or even understand with her superior mind — but her body knew. And the horse who had called her here, greeted her with a soft muzzle as she stepped through the gate knew.
Are the horses calling to you?
It’s okay to answer.