The Ride

A simple statement was made, "We can always cling to hope." I understood the context and yet something in me recoiled. In rejecting the statement I was transported back to the first time I rode a horse. Of all the instructions I was given, the most important was not to hold the reins tightly. I was told more than once to hold the reins loosely in my hands. If you have ever had a rope, a leash or the reins of a horse's bridle ripped out of your tightly clutched hands you will understand how painful this lesson can be. 

No, I will not cling to hope, I will hold her reins loosely in the palms of my hand. I will hold them loosely not because I fear the pain of hope, love, life or faith unexpectedly jerked out of my clutched hands. No, I will hold them loosely so Hope's Windhorse feels my trust. I will hold them loosely because relaxed hands are more sensitive to movement and changes than clutched hands.

In a world with so much anger, despair, hopelessness do I ever feel like the only hope is to cling? Yes, oh yes but it is a different kind of clinging. It is at those moments, when I trust my heart, that I lay my body down upon the bareback of Hope's Windhorse and clutch her mane, no longer a bridle needed. I press my legs against her muscles, her mane flying in my face, her head thrust forward in energy against the wind, and I whisper in the ear of Hope's Windhorse.... 'I believe! Let's ride!' 

The way I ride is up to me.