But sometimes the natural yearning essence of the horse depends on its owner. My horse, her name is Mathilda, finds it far more natural and enjoyable to trot along behind the cart, sniffing the heather, watching the birds fly, dreaming of the far-distant future where there will be no carts at all, just a shady tree to lie under and lots and lots of lettuce to feed her and, occasionally, to roll around in in an obscene manner. The problem with Mathilda’s nature is that sooner or later the cart starts to roll downhill, and, as it is filled with countless heavy bushels full of tasks left undone, it careens faster and faster down that hill, forcing Mathilda to go from trot to canter to gallop to stumble to roll, until cart and horse and tasks and dreams end up in a crashed and broken heap.
Ah, nothing like a cheery blog to get you going in the morning!
The moral of the story is this, I have learned through hard experience and countless times digging myself out from under the rubble of crashed enterprises, to keep Mathilda up there leading the cart, all four hooves on the path, rocky though it may be sometimes. And ultimately she feels better in that spot, more purposeful and proud, and finds her time for dreaming on Sundays when the cart stops for restocking.