saying goodbye to Láska

Last night was the first night I spent with my horse in a long time. I have been out to see him many times, but I wasn’t fully there. Being at the barn is a time when I can leave my phone in the car and be in nature, be in the moment with my surroundings, let my mind go as I do the simple and repetitive chores of grooming him or conditioning my tack. While I do my best to be present, the barn is also a place I zone out. I lovingly clean and care for Láska, I haven’t been excited and thus I haven’t been present, numbing myself to the truth I didn’t want to hear, that this chapter in my life is coming to a close.

It’s a terrible thing to know deeply that it’s time to separate from a loved one. In the past I have been so stubbornly loyal that I have ignored this message from my heart and ‘made it work’ long past when I should have. I have not wanted to willingly endure the pain of the separation, opting to stay in a relationship despite knowing deep down it was time to go.

I’ve been getting inklings that it was time to sell Láska, and they became undeniably clear in the spring, but I still denied them. I knew deep down that we wouldn’t go back to showing and that I didn’t want to push him into advanced levels. I knew that his gift was given and it was time for him to be the light of another riders life, that the love and safety he could offer someone was a true gift could help heal a scared rider. Just like his name, this horse is pure love.

I knew it, but I didn’t want to know it. I wanted to save him for myself, to pretend I would do the things I wanted to do, pretend work would settle down and I could take lessons again, that I’d bring him back to shape and fox hunt or trail ride or jump cross country one last time. I didn’t want to let go of my identity as a horseback rider. I didn’t want to let go of this built in time in my week to be in nature. This horse that I have started from scratch who I can now ride without a saddle or bridle, who knows sign language, who is safe enough to wander the property and stay out of trouble, I didn’t want that magic to become a memory.

I ignored the whisper and in May it became a shout. Just as I was starting to admit it was time to sell him, Láska got a soft tissue injury in his foot, ending his half lease and creating vet bills and five months of board for my sweet horse to enjoy life in a pasture. Twice a week I would go groom and graze him and time healed the wound. He is now sound, healthier than he has ever been, and happy to be ridden again.

Of course, the part of myself that is afraid to feel pain and doesn’t want this good thing to end once again is trying to bargain. Maybe I’ll go back to lessons, maybe we can take on more advanced challenges, maybe I’ll trail ride or take him on another trip or find another leaser and keep him and still ride him sometimes. I could delay the inevitable, but that doesn’t resonate with Who I Am.

I want to be someone who listens to signs. I want to follow my intuition when it whispers so it doesn’t have to yell. I want to be big enough to say goodbye to things not meant for me even while they still bring me joy. I don’t want to be the person who waits for things to get bad, so bad there is no more choice because the circumstances have made it for me and I have done in relationships in the past.

It hurt to realize the time to let him go had come. It hurt again to see how I ignored the signs. Ram Dass writes about ‘unbearable compassion’ and that is exactly the amount of compassion I need for myself, more than I can bear. That is how much this decision hurts. I want my life to be lead by moving towards what feels right, hiding from what is painful. This hurt is the good kind. The hurt of regret from not listening to myself is not.

So, I will be brave and listen to the signs. I will have faith that my faith will be rewarded, that Láska will find the perfect home with a big pasture and a rider who will be as dedicated to every facet of his comfort and care as I was, someone who will love him as much as I do, someone who he can heal as much as he has healed me.

I’ll have faith that I will find time to be in nature. That I can trust myself to use the time and money that will be freed up to go to new places to hike, bike, swim and sail. Horse or no horse I will always be an equestrian. Láska or no Láska, he will always be in my heart and a creature that helped me become the person I am toady, the person whose life is so rich she doesn’t have time to love him in the way she used to and the person who is strong enough to know that and to let him go, even as she cries typing those words.

I am putting this out into the world to anchor it. Láska is one step closer to finding his dream owner, a person who it won’t feel hard or heartbreaking to let him go to. I am read to be ready now. I’m calling them in and I’m asking for a sign that is undeniable so I’ll know for certain when they appear.