Put Me On A Horse With No Name

Today I read a piece by a relatable blog I follow called Zoewiezoe called Not That Easy To Forget which really spoke to me. In a slightly different sense to the identifiable subject matter but there was one specific trigger word: horse. As Zoe recalled an unpleasant incident involving a horse, a song from the early 70s smashed into my head by America called A Horse With No Name (with lyrics below).

The trigger caused both really happy memories and yet lesser ones creeped in.

You see I’ve been through the desert
On a horse with no name
It felt good to be out of the rain
In the desert, you can remember your name
‘Cause there ain’t no one for to give you no pain

I’d love to saddle up and slowly ride through the Gobi desert, away from the rain (pain?) with not a single person in sight. Not that I’m antisocial but like in the wonderful film Wild, it’s simply a solo journey of self-exploration, rediscovery, forgiveness or however you want to interpret it. That’s what I love about music, you can feel the lyrics in your own personal way.

As a child when we lived up in Livingston, Scotland, I used to attend horse riding lessons and loved it! On holidays to the beautiful Isle of Arran on the west coast of Scotland, Devon, Prince Edward Island in Canada, Egypt and Turkey we sought out horse riding trips and enjoyed the amazing sense of natural freedom. Note: after my brain bleed in 1996 I had to be lifted onto their saddles but imagine the overwhelming joy I felt being able to still enjoy a gentle ride? Ha, knowing I’d break my left ankle if I fell off but sometimes risks are worth it!

I’ve got a lot of regrets. I’ve done some fucked up stuff. But then again, haven’t we all? Have you ever caused upset to yourself or others? A resounding “yes!” should shake the asylum rafters. Anyone holding their head up high in defiant denial are, in that action alone, being shady. I don’t mean to sound a judgemental prick here, please don’t misunderstand me, but past experience dating back to the 1980s from such claims has caused me profound harm and I’m still healing from an avalanche of similar incidents. Fuuuuuck, when will it stop? I guess when my body is pickling in formaldehyde for med students (I’m a body donor for King’s College Hospital). Got to help the medical community and save money on funeral costs!! I’m wandering off-topic as usual.

I’m sat feeling as calm as you can be with yet another mug of coffee but exploring today’s trigger has reset my mind and I thank Zoe for that. My horse has wandered far and wide within the vastness of my mind and I’ve returned to the stables, been lifted off and stroked the horse’s velvety nose. I have a thing for plush horse noses. I won’t ramble off again about the police horse’s nose and manure incident at London’s Wembley Stadium. I’ll leave that to your “WTF?” thinking… but I’ll tell you if you ask below.

© Copyright: Sharon Lawson™

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