Arabian horses have been bred in the deserts of the Middle East since the time of Muhammed. In fact, there is an “Al Khamsa” designation that attempts to draw a direct lineage to the Prophet’s own herd. Arabians were the mounts of Genghis Khan, of Napoleon, of George Washington.
So it’s a little strange to find 10 of them frollicking on 11 acres in Douglassville, Pa. But friends there raise them. I saw them last night.
They are beautiful. And gentle. And just a joy to be around. They seem so natural and right and true to themselves.
And at the same time, it’s impossible to remove the hands of men, our influence, from the reality of these amazing creatures. Without men controlling the horses, domesticating them, feeding them, riding them, insisting on mates, molding them to be all leg and lung, these horses would be so much different. It has me thinking about the multitude of ripples that we all send out in the world, the way that control sometimes leads to great beauty, the way that invention plays out in flesh and sinew as well as silicon and steel and paint.
And when I see these horses, all that falls away and I’m left with the simple appreciation for a creature in the moment—complex, capable, beautiful. Yes, beauty in this world.