Perspectives

The little boy held the dog’s head in his hands and stared deep into its eyes. The dog looked back wagging his tail, and in his heart he said,

“If I could talk to you what would I say? That I trust you beyond all else, whatever happens? That even when we share crumbs together and I am hungry, I will stay with you because you are my whole world? That on good days when we play my whole being lights up and I cannot think of anything else more pleasurable than to be with you? If you could hear what was in my heart that is what I would say.”

The little boy saw all the love in the world right there in his dog’s eyes and said,

“If you could understand what I say to you, what would I say? That you are the best friend I have always wanted? That I trust you with all my secrets and pain? That I love it when we play and have fun and snuggle up when mum goes down stairs? If you could understand what I say that is what I would tell you.”

Mum looked at her son and the dog and thought to herself,

“If I could tell you what I thought in my heart when I see you two together what would I say? That I worry because you have no friends except that dog? That you never talk to me about things? That - when I get up to check on you in the night, that dog is with you on the bed and I am worried he might suffocate you?  That I worry about you because I know we have little but I am trying my best? If I could tell you what is in my heart that is what I would say to you.”

The little boy looked at his mum. The love he had for her shone from his face. “Mummy, thank you for my dog, I love you very much.” He got up and rushed over to her giving her a bug hug. He pulled himself away and went back to his dog. Staring into his eyes the little boy said, “You have given me my best friend. He is everything I have always wanted,” and as he said this, he hugged the dog and the dog reciprocated, wagging his tail and licking the boys ear.

“Careful dear”, mummy said, “don’t let him get too close. Push him away dear. It’s not healthy.”

How well do I know you?

A little boy sat transfixed by the view of a mountain which he could see from his classroom window. He often sat starring at it, finding himself imagining walking it’s slopes, drinking in it’s streams.

He heard little of what was being said in the classroom, instead daydreaming, working out ways he could travel there. He knew the mountain so well he could recall all it’s details and he drew it with such reverence.

Others failed to share his fascination, hungry instead for the knowledge which flowed from the teacher. As the little boy studied his view of the mountain others learnt of valleys, stream and lakes and how they are formed. They learnt how erosion affects the landscape and that both nature’s ecology as well as man has shaped much of what we see.

One day the school was taken on an outing and the little boy was so excited because they were going to his mountain.

He boasted long and hard about how well he knew the place, telling everyone of what he knew. He held court and loved it.

Eventually they arrived at the mountain, but from a side the little boy did not know. He was lost and confused. He recognised some of the landmarks but  saw things he had never imagined. The other boys had forgotten him and laughed together as they talked of erosion, mountain chain formation; hunting for things they had read about but not seen.

The teacher came over to the boy and said, “It is all very well learning one aspect but there are always others points of view to take into consideration. Look and listen to what the others say, look for yourself and learn the different views of the mountain. Learn the whole truth, and then think about how much more you have learnt today.”

Release from Excellence

She stood waiting for the next instruction. The call came and she moved forward with grace and poise lifting her feet with exaggerated elegance floating across the floor like a ballerina. She felt the next command and moved forward into trot lifting her back to meet the rider above her. He sat squarely and she settled to his familiar movement. Together they moved around the arena as if connected by an invisible thread; this way and that they danced in trot and canter, years of training, sweat and tears culminating in a dance which lasted but three minutes. An exhausting dance of all her gaits; it pushed both her and the rider to the limit of their physical strength.  She heard the applause and the gentle pat of the rider. She had performed well and she could feel he was pleased.

She stood in the middle of the arena and waited as all about her seemed to be in a state of suspended excitement. A woman approached and placed a huge rosette in her bridle and a wreath around her shoulders. This was different, this felt different. The man on her back she knew so well felt different. He felt happy and yet tense, a state of sadness which she could not understand. Had she not performed well? Had they not received one of the big rosettes?

She left the arena confused but followed the instructions he continued to give. She was filled with pride. She had been around a long time and knew what the large rosette meant. She had done well so why was he so sad?

Wrapped in her travelling rugs she went up the ramp into her box. The doors were closed and she settled for the journey home. The lorry drove steadily and carefully and as usual she dosed, tired after the days activities. Arriving back home she went straight to her box ate and slept, she would be stiff in the morning.

As morning broke and breakfast was being delivered she noticed the man already there. She was pleased to see him and hung over the door to her box calling to him. He came and she was pleased to get the mints from him, but why so early? She usually got the day off after a major event, why so early today? He opened the box and came in with her. Stroking her he began to talk in that language she did not understand. She saw wetness round his eyes and felt he was sad. He put on the head collar and led her outside, she was very confused. She stood as he put on the travelling rugs and quietly went into the back of the lorry. Once more she was travelling but it seemed different somehow. She knew the saddle was not in the lorry; he did not have his stuff in the section in front of her. She was not plaited or groomed.

The lorry came to halt and she smelt fresh grass. The back opened and she saw open fields. The man was smiling but the wet hung round his eyes. She looked out at the fields and quivered. She nuzzled him and was scratched just where she had always loved it, but the smell and sounds excited her. She heard other horses calling and she strained to see out of the lorry. Untying the rope she quietly led down the ramp with the man. He took her towards a gate and she looked out over...just fields of grass and horses and trees and…

The man opened the gate and led her in. He slipped the head collar and she stood there next to her man but longing to run. He patted her and gave the command to move on. Without thinking she responded trotting in the way he had taught her, trotting out into the middle of the field looking this way and that whilst others looked on from fields around. She heard him click once more and she bounded forward into a canter, showing off her skills and style she had spent many years learning. She stopped and turned towards the man. He was the other side of the gate looking on. He was smiling but the wetness hung more heavily round his eyes. She trotted over to him and gently kissed his face and fussed round his pockets. He gave her a fuss and another mint then turned and walked toward the lorry.

She watched as he got into the front but this time she did not go with him. She called after him but he did not hear. She watched as he went up the lane, she listened as the lorry disappeared into the distance and she turned to the fields around her looking at a new day.