Is it really love?
by OurHorses community member
Berenika Bratny, Poland
This is a love story with
a happy ending, although some may say it’s sad.
It started when I was
put on an old mare’s back for the first time. I was four years old. Her name
was Rosa and she was as black as Black Beauty. She was one of my mother’s
horses. I rode her with pride and thought I loved her but also secretly longed
for the other, taller, and more “difficult” horses to prove my skills. I did
not notice when she was given away. I never asked and never longed for her
patient, sad presence. I loved horses - at least this is what I was told - to
love them for their performance, movement, looks and obedience.
Riding was something I
never imagined I could quit, like an addiction. I explored different methods,
different schools. I believed I had a “connection” with the mounts I rode. What
was really important was my pleasure during long trail rides and it was obvious
to me they enjoyed it too.
What happened when the
horses said “no”, unable to cope with the pain in their old or broken bodies? I
thought they were mean, assuming that other riders hadn’t treated them
properly. I hoped they would understand
that I am different – that is I had “soft hands” and a “better seat”. Love meant making horses obey and manipulating
them to achieve my goals. It also meant me not listening, not seeing their
struggle and their needs.
I moved to the
countryside to start the “real” life of a horse trainer. I imagined I would have a great life. I met a man and fell in love. The world
seemed full of wonder, full of possibilities. We believed we would have the
quiet and smooth life we both longed for so much.
It was eight years of
struggle. I tried the old patterns I knew so well from riding horses –
dominating, manipulating the man I loved but I didn’t see it that way at that
time. I still remember the feeling that there is no connection, no
communication no matter how much I tried. Finally he moved out and I was left alone.
This is when the real
love story started. I went to horses to heal my broken heart. After some time I
realized I was looking for the same answers in my relationship with horses and
with my partner - what went wrong, where
was the connection? Was it really love, this strange conglomeration of
domination and manipulation? Why, if my horses and I were supposed to be
partners, why it’s only me who was allowed say “no”? What if I allow them to
choose what they really need? Can I hear them? Will they open up enough to tell
me their truth? Will I be able to see their real faces? Will I lose them if I let them be themselves?
Looking for the answer
to those questions I found the documentary The Path of The Horse. During my
first viewing I could not see much, as the tears rolled down my face. I felt
like somebody took the big burden from my back after so many years. I was free.
I got the missing part of the puzzle. I knew what went wrong.
I finally understood
that love meant letting horses be who they were and loving them for who they are. I saw they are absolutely perfect, all of them, the young and joyful,
the old and damaged.
Freeing them I realized
something shifted inside of me too. I am
one of them and can be loved for who I am. When they come, surround me, sniff my hair or
rest with their muzzles over my head I know I am loved unconditionally. This is
the most unforgettable gift in the world. It makes me so rich. I saw that the
things I was taught as a little girl riding old Rosa were not right. I realize
what love is about. The horses now teach me.
My heart breaks to see
young children riding their ponies. When I hear a parent say: “We need to exchange
the pony for a bigger/better one” and I see the puzzled look in the child’s
eyes, I know that this is where their love story is lost. I see their choices,
their struggles and wonder how their relations will develop over time. I can
only hope that some day they will see themselves reflected in a horse’s eye and
be free. Horses have saved me. Maybe they will save others too.
