“Few understand that horses are never truly domesticated. Their instincts are always there and readily take over once they are free. They stay or return to us by their choice, not the compulsion forced upon them.
Once realized you must also recognize only kindness will prevail to make a partner of an animal who’d prefer only the company of his kind and the freedom of wide open spaces. Any other relationship is based on the inadequacies of the tormentor on the tormented. One will lose. It’s always the horse, for even if he wins his defensive battle the mark of rogue will remain.
It’s been witnessed how a mustang will give up his life if his freedom can’t be regained when in the grip of adversity. There’s so much for us to learn from this, if we’d only learn to listen to their message.” ― Judith-Victoria Douglas
Several things have been bobbing around in my mind soup recently. Mind soup is the term I use to describe my conscious awareness and all the bits and pieces which enter it and then float around in it. Seemingly separate things which when observed more closely are sometimes connected. By making connections I occasionally have what I consider to be insights, whether they are by anyone else’s standards is irrelevant… they are relevant to me and my version of reality, life, myself.
I am aware that this is my perspective, and that it differs from others. I am always fascinated and intrigued by the views of others. My own views can be informed by being open to the views of others… as long as I remain aware, conscious, yet detached.
I received a comment yesterday on one of my more viewed posts from someone who announced that I was an idiot, did not know anything about what I was writing about, and they were the antidote to my stupidity. I stared at this comment and wondered whether they had thought things through. They were promoting themselves by demoting me… and expecting me to promote them and their demotion of me. They added a link to their blog, pretty much saying – the blog and the author of this blog on which I am choosing to promote my own blog and myself is an idiot (who is going to be dumb enough to approve my comment and promote me on their stupid blog and even dumber post).
There was a spark of rant which lit up in me, and then went out. I sighed and thought – let it go, another wounded soul is so deeply caught up in their wound that they are unable to see how their fight to survive their own pain hurts others. They are passing on the wound, thinking that they are healing it. Maybe their wound is healed in the passing on. Who knows.
I’ve done that. Been so caught up in my own pain that I didn’t realise how it hurt others. Until I realised it. That awareness provoked a change. Change takes time.
So when I saw this week’s Photo Challenge: Monument… at first I thought of it within the box. Then it slowly filled the box and bled out of it, overflowing.
What is a monument? What does it signify? Not so much to those who built it, but to those who see it many years, sometimes decades, sometimes centuries, later.
We sometimes build monuments to our wounds as a way of acknowledging them, especially if they have been denied, by us, by others, by society and the world.
Even if others acknowledge them… is it ever enough to make up for what we have suffered for so long, perhaps in silence, perhaps aided and abetted by others whom we believe could not or would not see. And in building a monument to our wound, our suffering, our deep pain, we hope to heal our wounds in doing so by making them solid and visible to one and all. We place plaques with these monuments, telling our story to remind ourselves of what we may forget, because survival often entails forgetting what has happened and focusing on what will happen next. To inform others. To pass on a story through time. Don’t let this happen again… but history or herstory must sometimes repeat itself, because a personal experience is best understood when it is personal to all, not just to one or a few, or even to many, and even then… it takes time for us to accept certain truths. Change takes time.
There are monuments which are not considered as such. Logos in some ways could fall into that category.
Why do certain logos catch on and others don’t? What is it about an image, a design, a form which makes us want to invest in it, be it with money, with thought, with feeling, and whatever else we have to invest?
The local village close to where I live was burned to the ground after a rebellion centuries ago. Only a few structures remain of that time. I was going to capture one of these and share it for this challenge, but something else caught my eye while I was on my quest. A wild horse. The Mustang. An emblem which in some ways is a monument.
A monument to the human spirit, to the secret, savage and wild within us all. Our nature is in nature, but as we become more civilised so we disconnect from our nature and become what we nurture. Something separate, other, apart rather than a part of.
Once upon a time humans tamed wild horses. Made them domesticated, used them for transport and other things. Then things changed. We invented a different kind of horse to carry us forward, but we paid homage to those beautiful wild creatures who allowed us to tame them and use them, and sometimes abuse the power they allowed us to have over them.
Mustangs often appear in films and TV as the transport of those who are mavericks, outsiders, rebels with a cause, who think for themselves, who feel deeply what others have chosen to ignore because… civilisation needs us to forget our secret, savage wild side. But it is still there…
“The most important thing a person could learn from being around horses is how to control the expression of their emotions, even the non-verbal ones, and lose all unnatural fears. Fear only binds what should be free. That applies in all areas of thought, belief and actions. If you can’t overcome it, then resist it. Be courageous.” ― Judith-Victoria Douglas