Of Quiet Nights and Peaceful Choices

A barn at night is one of the most peaceful places on earth. I think of it more when the wind is howling outside, and the rafters in the hayloft softly creak in protest. When the chores are finished and the lights are out, the sound of contentment; teeth methodically grinding hay, is the most calming, rewarding sound on earth.

Why do horses inspire us? Why do many of us devote a large portion of our waking hours to keeping them? In this day and age, when so many people live in such crowded conditions, those of us who keep horses at home are in the minority. And some of our friends, colleagues, and even family members find this occasionally inconvenient devotion hard to understand.

We all know that keeping a horse at home limits some of our activities, or at least makes us circle back round to “home base” at regular intervals, if only to replenish hay and water. We tend to take fewer exotic vacations, and don’t spend three out of four weekends in a condo at the slopes or on the beach. So, is caring for horses a way of hiding from “modern life,” or of seeking a simpler, quieter way of life?

In years gone by, nearly everyone had a stable. Horses weren’t merely hobbies; they were an integral part of daily life. Today, for many, a stable is a remote fantasy, or at best a yearly vacation destination.

Keeping a horse is certainly different from having other pets. A dog sits beside you, eats where you eat, sleeps where you sleep, and requires only a small outdoor spot to go to the bathroom a few times a day. For the most part, he is able to adapt to your choice of lifestyle; be it a city flat, a country estate, a yurt on a mountainside, or a Winnebago at the beach. A horse, on the other hand, requires you to adapt to its lifestyle.

I’ll never forget the search for my first house. It took a while to train the Realtor. He was at first of the opinion that any “outbuilding” would suffice as horse housing, and that any type of acreage (swamp, 90 degree slope, etc.) would do for turnout. We finally located a vacant, bank-owned property buried under 4 feet of snow. The ramshackle barn was the closest building to the road, so we shoveled our way into it first. The inside was dry and cozy, the floors were level stone dust, with soft light creeping through the dusty windows, and not a bit of snow had blown into the properly situated run-in doors. My ecstatic Realtor said, “Do we have to get to the house, or do you just want to go back and sign papers?” He finally understood.

For you fellow fanatics, determined to do your own stalls, come hell or high water, who are feeling outnumbered and questioning your sanity, take heart! You are not alone, and you are not (entirely) crazy!

One can do yoga, or one can methodically pick stalls, or quietly brush one’s horse. Those cavernous lungs have perfected the art of deep breathing, and their quiet wisdom overrides the chaos of the day and imparts a calm, peaceful spirit to those that take the time to listen.