with those readers who would put themselves in the favored category.
I project that you might have already discovered -or explored your own beautiful sensitive connectedness to one of nature's most magnificent creatures. I sense that you have the easy and confident way of moving and being in your body -- that I have seen in my trainers and friends that have horses.
My best girlfriend in Idaho, Pam - who I always wanted to make love with -- though never did -- sold me her favorite mare "Call Me Macho," a retired quarter race horse. Pam had that easy comfortable way of being in her strong and sensuous body too. The mare, a full 16 hands of beauty and power -- a perfect reflection of Pam, turned her affection deeply onto me as my riding horse, my barrel racer my show horse and my brood mare. She "threw" the grandest colts and was a natural mother.... I loved watching each new foul suckle her generous milk filled teats.
As a riding horse - I loved the feel of her under my ass -- the warmth of her bare back - the strength as we climbed mountain trails. I was secure with her and her incredible power - yeah quarter horses - they can go from a dead stop and move in a moment into a full out gallop - enough to jolt you off and onto the ground it you're not paying attention. Yes, it did happen to me - fortunately landing on some well ploughed fallow farm ground - with enough natural cushion to allow a minimum of pain and a maximum of awe and self humor over my own lack of mastery as a rider.
One of my favorite times on horse back was in upper state New York. I was visiting an estate of an eccentric couple - she was into meditation and yoga and raising prize peonies, he was into raising Arabians and filming soft porn fantasy erotica - using the members of the commune from the adjacent estate as members of the cast.
It was a late spring day - on the out skirts of Rochester - where spring comes with such a vengeance after the torture of bitter winter cold. There had been several suicides that winter - at my college dorm. Between the drugs sex and normal depression of isolation over the holidays.... the icy winds that dug deep into your bones having gathered their power from Lake Erie storms - relentless. The relief of spring in the Rochester country side is a cascade of life giving joy.
So....the buoyancy of springs magic was running in me - and with it came my discovery of a commune in the pastoral community of York. My bisexual girlfriend - from my college dorm in my freshman year - her older world wiser sister was a member of this extended family group. An informal extended family of friends and ambiguous coupling - where visiting traveling friends brought the best in the mind altering substances for all to share; Turkish hash - carried in big blocks - like cheese wheels - hidden in the bottom of giant candles - the finest quality grass - from South America and the Far East.
We would sit on the grass in amorphous community gatherings - surrounded by the opulence of the newly leafed trees and the smell of lilacs in full bloom - passing hookah's and other smoking apparatuses - Hubbley Bubblies....Often there were 10 or 15 or even 20 of us. A highly intelligent crowd - who were friends with Andy Warhol and Allen Ginsburg and Timothy Leary and Richard Alpert (Ram Dass). Who shared the stories of the experiments in consciousness that were going on with LSD just down state from us - at a similar estate. Who shared the stories of making their way through India, Turkey and Afghanistan...of close calls with police and nights in foreign jails.
These were the cast of characters that were drawn into the home made movies of the Arabian horse breeder. I remember one crazy scene - we had all just finished doing an Indian sweat lodge - near the small pond on his 50 acre estate - 20 of us or so in various stages of clothed and unclothed - sunning on the lush lawns.
