Image by Sarah Olive on Unsplash
Writer's Block and The Timid Mare
The morning found me walking alone toward the beach, accompanied only by the familiar silence of a writer's block. Sometimes the words refuse to come, and all that remains is to keep walking, trusting that nature may speak where language cannot.
A little farther along the path, a young woman sat astride a beautiful buckskin mare—or so I believe she was. The horse had never been this way before. She hesitated, uncertain of what lay ahead, pausing as though every instinct urged her to turn around and retreat to what was familiar. Confidence, I reflected, is not the birthright of either horses or people. It is something gently earned, one small step at a time.
I asked if I might stroke the horse. Up close, I admired the richness of her colouring and the soft abundance of her thick fetlocks. She stood quietly as I ran my hand over her neck, and something seemed to change in that simple exchange. Whether she sensed there was nothing to fear, or whether she merely borrowed a little confidence from the moment, I cannot say.
From then on, she followed me as I continued toward the shore. Together we reached the sand, and where she had once hesitated, she now walked forward willingly. The beach, which moments before had seemed an unknown frontier, became simply another place to explore.
It felt like a small miracle, one of those unplanned encounters that asks nothing of us except our presence. For me, it was a special moment. For the mare, perhaps it was the discovery that courage often begins with trust. And for her patient rider, it may have been a quiet reminder that building confidence bit by bit is sometimes the greatest teacher of all.
Now I will go and develope this story for my book that should be ready soon.
P.S. I chose sarah's image because the horse
displays confidence.
