Back Horses, Back.

Back Horses, Back.

Horses must have been important. They’re everywhere in our language. “To beat a dead horse.” “HorsePower” “Get off your High Horse.”  And more? Geeze. That’s a lot.


Being from Wyoming, I suspect I should have had more interaction with horses. I hate to admit that I might be a “city boy.” In fact, I make amends to never say those words. I will go as far to say I’m a “town boy” but I never say I’m from the city.

Even now. I say “I’m in a city now.” But does not make me a city dweller. I am merely resting here, and schooling here, waiting until I can mozey on.


I don’t think I’ve been this depressed in a long time. I drink a lot of coffee, and I take vitamin D supplements. But I’m depressed. I lack energy, and sometime my knees buckle because I can’t stand to be upright. It’s like a psychological collapse; where it isn’t my muscles that give out, but my mind– or my will. I’m deeply exhausted, and I feel hollow. Damn.

Have you ever felt this way?

It isn’t terrible. I mean, it sort of is, but it doesn’t mean that it can’t also be important and helpful. I’m beginning to understand adults.

I’m beginning to see where their frowns come from.

The corners of people hold all the information you’ll ever need to know. We say “deep inside” or “within in me is the real me,” but in reality, it’s our edges. Maybe the deepest parts of us are near our bounds. Think about it this way: It isn’t the stuff of our middle that bends and breaks us, it’s the stuff thats at our bounds. We associate ourselves with our centers, but its our precipices and our darkened edges that reveal whom we are. (Or is it “who we are”? Are we the subject or the object? What’s it matter, but perspective..)

Here’s where thats important: watch peoples corners. They edges of their lips, and the peaks of their eyes. That’s where the truth is. Watch strangers slowly curl they’re edge into a smile.

Those crow’s feet, they tell stories. Does this person smile, or are they sullen. The way the skin sags along their long used muscles. Do they have the ability to smile? Is it long forgotten from their muscle memory.


Sometimes I hear laughter, and I remember how long it’s been since that happened. Anna plays a clip of me eating the batter from a spoon in the kitchen, and I’m laughing. I miss that sound. I haven’t heard it  in a long time. My crows have begun to droop instead of crease.


Yes. This sounds sad. Mayhaps. But in sadness is understanding. I can understand the students, whom more resilient than I, keep working through school. Kids are amazing. They keep on much longer than Adults ever will, and often live with their hearts so much more.

It’s been fascinating to work with kids, whilst I become that jaded adult. I spoke with a friend from college the other day. Her voice has changed from years of teaching. The tones have shifted down, in a sort of tired tone. A half-step down, melodically. Meaningfully.

Depression is not sadness, for sadness is something. Depression is apathy. Perhaps sadness can manifest from there. And why I feel some amounts of apathy, I still see beauty. I still take deep breaths and have what fuels me.

And I love you world. So you know.

Keep those crows crips while you can. Discover your depths at the edge of your being. Be brave, and be active. Keep walking.

Horse Dead. Back on the Horse.

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