“And, so this is Christmas
and what have we done
another year over
a new one just begun”
(John Lennon)
I’m up before the sun on this Christmas Eve morning. I didn’t plan it that way. It just happened. It’s actually the opposite of what I had planned for this morning. I imagined lingering in bed on a rare day when I don’t need to rush, don’t need to produce. I was going to sleep in, drink coffee in bed and read. Yet here I am, eyes wide open, in a silent house in the company of sleeping cats and a big fluffy dog who snores.
Yesterday evening, in the hour or so before the sun went to bed, we took care of horses. Fed them their evening meal. Brushed grass and twigs out of their manes with our fingers. Touched their soft noses, inhaling their scent. Rinsed and refilled troughs. The theme of our lives is water for horses.
As we waited for the troughs to fill, we stood there, taking it all in. The golden light. The two horses making their way over the hill and disappearing from sight. We thought we saw the third one but couldn’t be sure.
“Do you think she’s with them?” I asked John.
“Yes,” he said. “I do.”
She’s here and she isn’t. It’s that ‘isn’t” part that’s still so hard.
“She comes to me through the receding or approaching darkness, her breath visible in the cold,” First Horse said.
I remember that horses can’t lie and let myself sink into the magic of that. The magic of complete honesty.
Christmas has a way of showing up, whether we’re ready for it or not.
“It came upon a midnight clear.”
I never knew exactly what “it” was, but the midnight clear always got me. Still does.
The sky along the horizon is turning pink against the grey. The dark silhouettes of the trees like an ink sketch against a changing sky. The magic of honesty is the highest form of art. All we have to do to be part of it is open our eyes.
“Do you see what I see?”
One of the horses in our field is a philosopher. A professor. He says, “We traffic in the sacred by being. That’s it. We are.”
The sky outside my window changes color again. Pink replaced by orange.
“We are Surrounded. Surrounded by beauty. Surrounded by holiness. Surrounded by love, which is the highest form of holiness,” the philosopher horse continues.
Horses cannot lie.
Several days ago, we stopped off at the co-op in Hendersonville to buy some rose hips. The cashier, who looked like she went to a lot of Dead shows back in the day, commented, “Somebody’s going to be making tea.”
“They’re for our horse,” I told her.
She looked at me like I had two heads. “For your horse?”
“Yes,” I told her. “He asked for them.”
I’m pretty sure she thinks I’ve lost my marbles. I forget there are people who don’t know horses talk. Honestly, we were a little taken aback. You might expect that at Walmart, but the co-op practically stinks of enlightenment.
Later, after I’d soaked some rose hips* to soften them a bit, I fed them to First Horse in my hands. “Thank you,” he said, chewing thoughtfully.
Maybe the problem isn’t that horses can’t talk but that some of us can’t listen.
Today is Christmas Eve. The magic is happening whether we see it or not. Whether we hear it or not. Whether we’re ready for it or not. It’s not dependent on us, but we are dependent on it.
The philosopher in the field continues, “Some people are so focused on what comes next, they miss The Now. They miss The Here.
“”What happens when we leave this place?” they ask, as they set their sights on the afterlife, doing their level best to rack up ribbons and trophies that will only gather dust.
“Horses aren’t the only ones who have trouble seeing what’s right in front of their noses.
“They’re missing the point, which is this:
“This is the point. The Now. The Here. That’s the point. It’s The Everything. It’s our part in The Everything.”
Horses cannot lie.
Last year was the Christmas immediately following Helene. I didn’t know how to do Christmas in the midst of all that destruction and loss, but somehow Christmas knew how to find me. The destruction and loss of Helene is still here. Some of it’s better. Some of it’s not. There are far too many people who haven’t had stable housing, or any housing, since September 27, 2024. With the leaves gone for the winter, the destruction of our forests is painfully visible once again.
This year, Christmas snuck up on me when I wasn’t looking. My eyes and heart are still clouded by grief. Yet the stars of a winter night in Appalachia still shine impossibly bright, and a winter sun rises in a chorus of color.
We can hold all of it, and all of it can hold us.
Joy and sadness.
Comfort and despair.
Love and loss.
Maybe it really did come upon a midnight clear. Or maybe it showed up with the sunrise. Perhaps it’s in a kind word from a stranger or a caress from a loved one. Maybe a big white dog barked it into being, or perhaps a horse exhaled it on a sigh. Whatever it is, it’s waiting for us.
There are two horses in the field. Only two. Yet they call to me, as they always do. “Bring hay,” the horses say. “Bring yourself. You are part of it. The Everything.”
Horses cannot lie.
* “Whether fresh or dried, rose hips retain their vitamin C, which makes them an ideal source of vitamins for horses. In addition, rose hips are rich in essential vitamins, they contain vitamins A and E as well as numerous vitamins of the B-complex. Vitamins K and P are also present. On top, rose hips contain beta-carotene, flavonoids, calcium, iron, copper, magnesium, sodium, phosphorus and zinc…
They also help horses with osteoarthritis as they are said to naturally relieve pain and reduce inflammation in the joints. This is due to the high content of galactolipids, a compound of fatty acids and sugar that provides more mobility and thus often alleviates the pain of joint problems.” (e horses magazine)
[None of which I knew, at least in relation to horses, until after First Horse asked for rose hips]
This morning as I trudged to the barn afraid of what I would find, I heard First Horse say: Why not you? And then I quit pouting and got busy being present. Thank you both. I love you both.
Thank you Tamar for this marvelous Christmas benediction. Still following your writings and the horses, dogs and other loved beings you have. May you feel the holy in your deepest being tonight, tomorrow and as many days ahead as you can...and remember, all things shall be well!