by Andrea Neve, L’Ecole des Loisirs, ©1996 translated by JP Giacomini
The more I read it to him, and he repeats the words after me, the more I feel a resonance about my own relationship with horses. Naturally, the horsey play that I indulge in with my stallions is more of the grown-up kind. Currently, I am teaching them to do fancy dressage stuff on the long lines, which really feels like the closest thing to dancing with a partner: I watch my step and they learn theirs. When the day is over, I dwell on our attempts, our accomplishments and our little misunderstandings. At night, they are often the last thing on my mind before I fall asleep. They keep on dancing in my dreams, just like the little wooden horse of the story probably gallops in my child’s mind all night.
I know that the horses probably share in my dreams too, just as they perfectly read my mind when we work together. As a possible proof of this strange idea, I have often noticed that the stallions come out the day after practice, having miraculously progressed in the night while they were standing in their stalls. What else do they have to think about, anyway? Eating is a mindless habit and herd friendships (or hatreds) are limited in their expression by the stable lifestyle itself.
On a different note, let’s reflect about the underlying thread of the deceptively simple story of the Little Wooden Horse: I see it as an allegory for the two greatest horse related myths of Antiquity. Though I did not know how to put a name to them until much later in my life, I have always felt a profound awareness for the feelings represented by the story of Pegasus, The Flying Horse and by the myth of the Centaur, the half human-half horse creature from the Greek mythology.
The ancient story of Pegasus describes how Bellerophon received from the Gods the gift of riding the Winged Horse, a magical horse that could fly and was cooperative enough to help him slay the dragon of the day, thus achieving great fame in his village. As Bellerophon started to believe in his own greatness and forgot to whom he owed it, the Gods made sure that he fell off Pegasus and returned (painfully) to Earth and to a more humble attitude. This metaphor reminds us not to turn our horses into the pedestal for a monument to our own glory. Funny enough, the Flying Horse is the logo of USEF, the organization who runs half of the horseshows in America. Ponder a minute on the choice of this ego-building (and sometimes destroying) symbol.
The other myth is very different. Chiron the Centaur, this half horse - half human - and part divine - creature, is reputed to have taught medecine and philosophy to many Greek heroes born from the encounter of a human with a god. Hercules became his close friend and student, but wounded him by mistake with a poisoned arrow. Eventually the pain of Chiron’s wound was so great and unending that he gave up his immortality to Promethee in order to end his suffering. Chiron the Centaur symbolizes the perfect interspecies integration that all serious riders aspire too. He was a divine creature with nothing to prove who found his humanity through pain and suffering, yet kept on giving.
The two myths are a perfect reflection of our ambivalence toward horses. As a small human weakness, we all enjoy a little public recognition from all our horse training work, yet we too often forget the horse when trophy time comes, just as Bellerophon did. On the other hand, we dedicate our lives to learning what this humble animal can teach us. This is why we can, for a few fleeting moments, achieve a glimpse of equestrian unity. Horse training is an unforgiving, physical, mental and spiritual exercise and we only find the strength to keep at it through the dreams we most likely share with our horses.
Horsemanship is a skill, but Centaurdom is a way of life fuelled by an unestinguishable aspiration. As a model, the Centaur transcends the limitations of our species by identifying with a being that idealizes our animal/human/divine nature and can helps us reflect on the great lessons of life.
The bedtime story written by Andrea Neve describes in very few inspired words all the elements of our ambivalence between using animals and loving them. It charmingly suggests how the tension between Chiron and Pegasus exists in the psyche of every child and how children may relate to the idea of a horse as the door opener to the secret world of dreams. This is particularly true for an autistic child like Ruy-Philippe who cannot express himself in the real world but has clearly a very rich interior life. I think this is why he wants me to tell him this story over and over in a mysterious language (French is my native tongue but his is English). Somehow the images are clear to him, and he might just see himself riding our sweet mare Sultana in the sort of dream all little boys prefer: battles and conquests with a horse under you, a best friend smoothly flying trough the sky.
THE LITTLE WOODEN HORSE
By Andrea Neve ©1996, L’Ecole des Loisirs
The rocking horse has infinite patience.
Never backing and never advancing.
The wooden horse is rocking silently.
If a nasty dragon attacks the gentle knight,
The little horse must not tremble from fear.
When the acrobat does pirouettes on his back,
The horse dances to the tune of trumpets.
If the cowboy takes up the reins,
The little horse flees his heart out.
And when the princess goes to the masked ball,
The wooden horse is quickly forgotten.
One evening, tired of so much travel
Without ever departing from the house,
The little horse escapes to the horizon.
The wind blows in his mane.
His hooves fly over the grass.
Wild and proud, the little horse
Runs around the World.
But Mina hears him galloping in the night
And, quickly, she joins the dream of her friend.
Then, reunited, they cross together
The sweet country of secrets,
Where everything is fabulous.
