Undones, Do You Have Them?

img_6630

 

Having faced death several times myself and recently experiencing the deaths of two very special people, I find myself preoccupied with loss.

Adoptees tend to do that of course. Our beginnings in utero had already started the prewiring necessary for our survival which was begun with loss of our mother.

Of course, I’d like to be thinking of sunshine and rainbows, but the reality for all of us is that death is inevitable. It could be tonight even.. It will come whether you’re ready or not. That is a certainty and we don’t have many of those in this life.

My life has been filled with loss as most adoptees are. The loss of our mother, our family, our heritage, our genetic markers, our family dynamics. Each future loss such as the recent losses I’ve mentioned open that old wound.

Then of course you add in the numerous losses one tends to accumulate over the years and suddenly life appears to hold nothing but darkness, silence, the sound of tears dropping, emptiness, loss of health. Living with an illness that could at any moment take my life brings it all to the frontline.

Being a practicing Buddhist I’m well prepared for the inevitable. I don’t fear death at all and in fact, at times would welcome it. Most people living with Mast Cell Disease can attest to that when you’ve spent days in excruciating pain, vomiting into a pail, fighting the anaphylaxis demons with epinephrine.

That in no way means I want to die. It means I believe one has to prepare for their own death in order to live. A close encounter with death can bring a real awakening, a transformation in our whole approach to life.

The Nature of everything is illusory and ephemeral,

Those with dualistic perception regard suffering as happiness, Like they who lick the honey from a razor’s edge. How pitiful they who cling strongly to concrete reality:

Turn your attention within, my heart friends.

The above is a verse of a poem by contemporary master, Nyoshul Khenpo. It clearly outlines the need to reflect deeply on impermanence. It’s very difficult to turn our attention within and so easy to allow our old habits, our set patterns to rule us! To reflect on this, slowly brings us wisdom. Watch how you repeatedly fall into the same old habits that always bring you suffering. Again, and again, and again. With observance and practice we can slowly emerge and change.

Your Undones…

Your undones are that persistent, niggling, feeling that is sent to you from The Universe, Your Higher Self, how ever you think of what is “out there”. It’s telling you that you have unfinished business. Business that will pester you, stress you and take your energy until you complete it. Mental nags are undones. They remind you that you have broken agreements with yourself and time and time again you’ll notice they rob you of your self respect. Creativity…gone. True joy…gone. Internal peace…gone. You are able to get back all of those things if you complete your undones.

Right now in your mind I’m sure you can identify several. I know I can. They could be unresolved conflicts, withheld forgiveness, appreciation not mentioned, love not given, goals not met, promises not kept. Your life is probably full of many more not mentioned. They come in every size, shape, and in each and every area of your life. Check your basement. It’s probably full of undones.

Let this sink in…You won’t find peace until these undones are completed. Just remember, life is short and very unpredictable.

UNDER CONSTRUCTION; Mind, Body, Soul and Website

So, I know you have been wondering where I have been these last weeks. Right? IMG_5149Let me tell you.

I’ve been everywhere and nowhere.

Easy part first. Slowly I’m creating this blog into a better, more accessible, website. I did say slowly didn’t I?

Mast Cell Wise its been a rough time. Plenty of anaphylaxis, the insertion of a PICC Line which will lead to continuous medications via a CADD Pump and weekly hydration, not to mention the injections of Xolair monthly. My body is tired..very tired. The pain at times unbearable. I have hope that these new trials will provide a better quality of life. Hope is a wonderful thing,. even when you are clinging to it by your fingernails as we often do.  It keeps us going.

SOULSEARCHING

Life on a couch allows one plenty of time for contemplation, meditation and wonder. I have dates set up for readings at library’s, interviews being organized. I need to do these things because, as you know, the books are for Covenant House, Vancouver. The kids, my kids, our kids.

I get worried I won’t be able to honour my commitments and try to stay conscious and awake to my true feelings. Self betrayal comes easy for adoptees, well everyone, but adoptees especially. It can be a habit we don’t even know we have. As adoptees we were born without our truth which you need to be your authentic self. The discovery takes time, energy, search, fragmentation from reunion or discovery and then rebuilding on a stronger foundation.

What do YOU want for a change?

Go with your feelings. Ask yourself when and with whom do you swallow your truth. Why do you swallow your truth? Why do you hide your authentic self? Do you give in to others easily? Why? Are you not worthy of being true to yourself?

Having lived a life of search and discovery I see clearly now as my authentic self. That little whisper of a voice you hear, that sense of spirit, intuition…it belongs to you. That is what you need to tune in to, pay attention and listen to. Overtime, if you don’t follow that inner wisdom, you will feel a loss of energy, power and a sense of spiritual deadness.

Have you given up your own personal story for that of another?

Have you sold out yourself?

Behind that.. lies the voice of fear. Don’t let fear run your life. Ask yourself questions, face fear straight on.

People may judge but in the end it is yours to live, just yours. Embrace yourself and your story. Time passes quickly, life changes. Find your authentic being.

Live loud and strong.

As I contemplate my recent losses, my recent discoveries, my new normal in the physical/medical world, I know I’m now living from my heart and spirit.

David Whyte, the poet reminds us that the soul would rather fail at its own life than succeed at someone else’s.

Times will present themselves where you are given the option of which direction to go.

Which will you choose?

THE WAY OUT….IS THROUGH

I want to know if you can sit with pain, mine or your own, without moving to hide it or fade it or fix it.”

ORIAH

I was talking to a friend last night about our daily struggles, our adoption trauma that never ends, my little blind dachshund that is declining in health, my own declining health. Facing my own mortality, loss of what used to be a different life, loss of a mother, loss of a family. Loss of my friends in Nepal and so many other lives.

So many losses, so much pain. From the past, the present and the soon to be.

IMG_1034Instinctively, we try to avoid pain. It’s ugly and messy. In fact, these experiences come to teach us that joy and sorrow are two sides of one coin and you can’t have one without the other. Give yourself a shake, open your eyes to your dark nights of the soul. What is the lesson? What wisdom do they bring? What healing do they offer?

THE WAY OUT IS THROUGH

Actually, it’s the only way if you want to grow and move forward. I was thinking about my books this morning and realized I never talk about the rapes, the near death experiences, the violence, abuse and the effect it has had on my life. It is the way of psychiatry to dig deep, unearth those wounds and heal them…walk through the pain. I’ve gone that route but there is also another to see trauma.

In the Buddhist way it’s simply called The Realistic View.  How easy is that? Did you know that Buddha himself began his journey spiritually after losing his mother at a young age and experiencing great trauma? His prescription for the end of suffering is outlined in The Four Noble Truths. Realistic View held an important place. It became a critical component of what became to be known as The Noble Eightfold Path.

The reason I mention this is that The Realistic View means/says that trauma, in any of its forms is not a failure or mistake. It’s not something to be ashamed of, not as sign of weakness, and not a reflection of inner failing.

Its simply a fact of life.

This is the kind of post that can go on forever and I will continue taking about the path that takes you through to the other side to a place of peace in many posts.

Buddha’s prescription was one of self investigation and mental discipline.

Mindfulness and clear comprehension

You don’t have to be a buddhist to get to the other side with this method. It’s for everyone who wants to grow and move forward from trauma. This is the simplest explanation of what the Four Noble Truths are.

1.Life has inevitable suffering

2.There is a cause to our suffering

3.There is an end to suffering

4.The end to suffering is contained in the eight fold path

So often, I hear people saying things like: I just can’t take any more. I can’t continue to live like this. I don’t have a life. I’m in so much pain.

Adoption, reunion, rapes, abuse, mast cell disease, so many things to experience and live with at once. I’ve said all of the above myself.  It’s a fine line between everyday life and trauma. I can only speak for my own journey when I say Trauma is the way into the self, and the way out

To be free, to come to terms with our lives, we have to have a direct experience of ourselves as we really are, dark side, warts and all. The freedom the Buddha envisioned does not come repression, holding onto thoughts and feelings or from abandoning our suffering self; it comes from learning how to hold it all differently, holding space for ourselves and others and not getting attached to the many stories/traumas we carry.

MINDFULNESS AND CLEAR COMPREHENSION

IMG_4831

Interview by Karen Pickell from Lost Daughters

SATURDAY, FEBRUARY 28, 2015

We Are Not Our Story:

An Interview with Author and Adoptee Claire Hitchon by Karen Pickell from http://www.lostdaughters.com
I recently reviewed Claire Hitchon’s latest memoir, The Wall of Secrets, in addition to its predecessor, Finding Heart Horse (you can read those reviews here). Claire’s life has been affected by adoption in profound ways, and I thought she might be able to give important insight to those of us who continue to struggle with processing trauma from our own adoptions.

I am grateful to Claire for the open and honest answers she’s given to my questions on difficult topics. There is encouragement here for all of us. It is soothing to hear Claire’s words.

How did you become comfortable talking about the difficult circumstances of your childhood and adoption? What types of reactions have you received from others, both inside and outside of the adoption community?

I survived by disassociating at a young age from the pain of abuse, rapes, and street life. The Wall of Secrets was a real wall in my parents’ library. I carried it in my mind until my adoptive mother passed away and I found my biological family in 2003. I could relay my story to anyone and not feel anything, until then…then the drawers started flying open and my worst nightmare became real.

It wasn’t until I began to write that I actually crawled into the places that hurt the most. I relived each and every secret. It was the most painful journey I’ve ever experienced. It was as if, once I found my birth mother the secrets had to be hauled out, one by one. I was already fragmented from reunion and all the secrets had to be dealt with in order to become whole and healthy. I went into seclusion, exhausted and physically ill. There were many times I wondered if I would ever reach the other side.

Each rewrite became a bit less traumatic and finally, the parts I had disassociated from were spread out in front of me in words, including the primal wound of adoption. Only then could I speak freely and without hesitation knowing I had dealt with, processed, and accepted all of it. The story that had been inside me, poisoning me, was now nothing more than words between the covers of books. I was no longer my story.

I’ve received various reactions, more positive than negative. You’re in a place of complete vulnerability when you share a story such as mine. I decided those that judged were not the people I wanted in my life anyway. Reactions have been from absolute horror and shock and being told, “Things like that are best left untold” from an older woman at a book reading, to tears of gratitude and validation that one is not alone. I’ve had women of my generation open up about their experiences with narcissistic, mentally ill mothers, comments from young adults about finding hope, to people unable to listen or read as it is a trigger, a piece of their pain not yet processed.
Have you connected with other adoptees who also experienced abuse in their adoptive homes? If so, have you discovered any commonalities in how adoptees who have been abused process that trauma throughout their lives?

I’ve been able to connect with others in various settings. I was an RN in psychiatry for over twenty years and many histories of patients held the secret of adoption in them. Most of us survive by disassociation from abuse suffered at the hands that were supposed to care for and love us. We tend to self-medicate when we get older with alcohol or drugs, not realizing the core issues of our pain. A disconnect keeps us from being re-traumatized or even loved. We live from a fear-based place. I’ve seen some that act out and then there are those of us who crawl up inside and just go on, carrying the pain until we are ready to look at it, if ever. There is a need for search even if it doesn’t lead to reunion for most of us to face our initial trauma, the primal wound. All adoptees begin with the initial trauma of loss. You can come from an adoptive family full of love and still experience similar issues; the abuse is just another layer to dig through.
As an adult, you cared for your adoptive mother for many years until she died, which seems remarkably compassionate considering her treatment of you. How were you able to reconcile your complex feelings toward your mother during that time?

I held on to the hope that things might change for many years. We all want our mothers to love us, adopted or birth. I realized nothing was going to change so I had to find a way to care for her without destroying myself. I had to work and I had a daughter to raise. I was a practicing Buddhist, yet finding compassion for her as my mother was beyond my abilities then. I had to look at her as a psychiatric patient, nothing more, just an ill person needing my care. I was an only child, there wasn’t anyone else, my father had died years before. I felt an obligation as one human to another. It wasn’t until years later that I was able to find forgiveness and also compassion for her.
Did you receive an explanation from your birth mother about why she relinquished you for adoption? If so, were you satisfied with her explanation?
Claire Hitchon
No, unfortunately my birth mother was quite ill and also emotionally detached when I met her. My understanding is that her mother insisted she give me away. This was in the early 1950s. She was twenty-five years old, not a young girl. She went on and had two more girls and a boy and kept them. Her mother even moved in with them to help. I have no words.
In The Wall of Secrets, you discover that your birth mother had two other daughters. What is your relationship with your sisters today? Have you been able to develop a close connection with them?

Yes, she also had a son. The two sisters and I share the same father although she wasn’t married at the time. I grew up, as I mentioned, an only child. To find siblings was beyond my wildest dreams. So many synchronicities and similarities we immediately connected. (This is so very painful to even think about.) Unfortunately, trying to integrate into a family after fifty years of absence is difficult. I looked at reunion as a chance for the whole family to heal and grow together. I found my birth mother and lost her. I found my family and now they are lost as well. The second and third rejection only magnifies the pain and loss of not growing up with them. Adoption affects everyone. History won.
What advice would you give to other adoptees who have experienced abuse or disconnection from their adoptive families? What has been most helpful to you in coping with and recovering from the trauma of your early years?

Understanding that it wasn’t your fault is huge. To know that all babies are born innately pure and none of us deserved the pain handed down from generations past. As adults, we have to take responsibility for re-parenting our inner child, healing the wounds and discovering that we are not our story. We have to break the cycle for our children. You must clear your life of toxicity no matter who it is. Leave the negativity behind and create the life you deserve. One filled with love and acceptance of self.

Thank you Karen Pickle from the amazing website http://www.lostdaughters.com for this interview.

IMG_4831

Lost Daughter’s Review of Finding Heart Horse & The Wall of Secrets

IMG_4905

Two Memoirs by Claire Hitchon: Finding Heart Horse and The Wall of Secrets
Those of us who speak out in favor of adoption reform are frequently accused of being angry and maladjusted due to having a bad adoption experience. We are dismissed as anomalies. Show us the happy adoptees who are on your side, many say. Most adoptees are happy about their situation, don’t you know? Most adoptions give children better lives than they would have had otherwise.

We feel compelled to make the case that there are so-called “happy adoptees” in our ranks who also recognize problems within the institution of adoption that need to be addressed. But what about those of us who did, in fact, have a bad adoption experience? Are we not entitled to speak? Do we not count in the big picture of adoption?

This was the thought I couldn’t shake as I read Claire Hitchon’s first memoir, Finding Heart Horse. Labeling her adoption experience as “bad” would be a gross understatement. She was placed with a physically and verbally abusive adoptive mother who clearly had no love for her and a meek adoptive father who did nothing to intervene on her behalf. To make matters worse, the family attempted to keep her adoption a secret, even from Claire herself.

Young Claire had a passion for horses and found escape from her daily abuse by creating an imaginary pet, the way some children turn to pretend friends for solace:

IMG_4906

“I always wanted a horse . . . And so it was that when I was eight years old, I gave myself my own horse, my imaginary Heart Horse.”

But not very long after she leaves home at fifteen, Claire makes her way to the rough streets of 1960s Toronto where she becomes entangled with another horse—Street Horse, her private name for heroin.

The title of the book refers to her quest to find a real Heart Horse, both literally and figuratively. The memoir chronicles her struggles on the streets with dangerous substances and relationships. All the while, Claire holds tight to a vision given to her as a child by a kind uncle—that out West, there was a place where wild horses roamed the land. She retreats to this place in her mind, imagining she will someday find her Heart Horse there, while in the real world she strives over and over again to create a home and family for herself.

Finding Heart Horse is a difficult book to read, because Claire’s early life was very painful. Yet, it is also a hopeful book about finding strength within oneself to keep trying, to never give up, even when there seems to be no one and nothing you can count on. Claire learned to count on herself and ultimately was rewarded. The tenacity of her spirit could not be broken.

Her first memoir left me with questions that I was pleased to have answered by her recently released second book, The Wall of Secrets. In addition to her imaginary pet Heart Horse, the young Claire also concealed her most private secrets in the wall of antique bank deposit drawers in her father’s library—the place where she would hide to escape from her cruel mother.

In her second memoir, all metaphorical drawers are opened, their secrets revealed. We learn how she discovered that she was adopted when she was eight and that her adoption was more complicated than even she had ever imagined. We see all the ways her adoptive mother continues to torment her into adulthood and how her adoptive father shrinks under the weight of his wife.
Claire Hitchon
Despite the devastation of being virtually family-less, we watch Claire grow into a capable, caring woman who raises a daughter on her own and cares for her aging adoptive parents—even the mother who has been only vile toward her. None of the bad that’s been done to her can squelch Claire’s true, innate nature as a compassionate human being, though her ability to trust in other people’s love for her seems to be indelibly damaged. Claire is a good person, worthy to be loved, yet she struggles to see herself as worthy.

At the age of fifty, Claire resumes the search for her birth mother that she started and then abandoned when she was thirty. All of the drawers in her wall of secrets are finally emptied.

“. . . I was standing in the same spot I’d been standing in just minutes before, but I’d become an entirely different person.

I was someone . . . .”

Along with her original identity, she finds the reason for physical ailments she has struggled with her entire life. Reunion does not mend all wounds—she calls herself the “almost daughter”—but it allows her to view herself and her difficult life with a new perspective.

“Life is not without suffering of some kind. It doesn’t mean that something is necessarily wrong. It just usually means we are clinging to the hope that things will be different.”

Although all is not resolved, The Wall of Secrets concludes on a hopeful note. I wanted Claire to be okay, and by the end of her second memoir, I felt confident that she would be.

Of course, her being okay now does not—and should not—erase all the wrong that was done to her via her adoption. Nor does it mean that she no longer struggles or that she is always happy. None of us who have endured a difficult adoption experience should be expected to never struggle or to keep quiet about it. It is only by opening up all of these walls of secrets that we can understand where changes need to be made to ensure that every future adoption truly brings more good than bad to a child.

Claire Hitchon’s two memoirs describe myriad ways in which adoption affects a person throughout the entirety of her life. Rather than dismissing adoptees like Claire, we need to be listening and learning.

Thank you to Karen Pickell from the amazing website http://www.lostdaughters.com for taking the time to read and review my books.

CARPE DIEM

We each have a finite number of heartbeats, a finite amount of time.  But we have enough heartbeats and enough time to do what is important in our lives.

Susan L Taylor

“THAT DAY” is over…Valentines Day of course.  For those of us alone, depressed, adopted, abandoned, abused, lost… it’s a day we hide from. Who wants reminding that they are any of the above let alone not loved?  Not me, that’s for sure.

CARPE DIEM-SEIZE THE DAY

This saying contradicts what i just said above doesn’t it.  What if we really are and just didn’t know it, couldn’t feel it, couldn’t believe it…what if?

I know it’s a big what if for most of us who have experience with the underbelly of life..but why not try..just for today..to believe it? Myself included.

Byron Katie says that the truth is, that our mattering is innate….no one or nothing can make us matter and no one can take it away.

Is it true?

This is one of her questions of inquiry which I use often.  If this is true, how much time have we lost in feeling like we don’t matter, like we aren’t loved.  Each moment that goes by that we feel like we don’t matter is a moment lost forever.

Ask yourselves..why would we be not loved, why wouldn’t we matter?  I know it’s not easy, far from it.  Our wounds go deep, the pain unbearable, yet underneath all of that lies our perfect buddha self.  Nothing external can bring us the feelings of “mattering or being loved”. Our willingness to dig deep enough to uncover the beauty within, along with the discovery of our strength and courage will allow our vulnerability to shine.

 Just do it.

Seize the day, the hour, the moment.

Activate your warrior energy, the fire within your heart.  Don’t wait until tomorrow because tomorrow might never show up.  Put aside the excuses and do the work.  You do matter,  You are loved.  Someone told me that today and I said I would sit with the words until I believed them. Thank you.  I will…until…

In fact, perhaps I’ll keep THE WALL around and fill it with moments of love and  mattering.  Moments of belonging and wonderment, that after six decades, I too, am worthy of what many take for granted…LOVE & MATTERING

IMG_4838

I WANT MY MOTHER !!

Today, I launched, put into the world, set free, gave birth to…

THE WALL OF SECRETS MEMOIR OF THE ALMOST DAUGHTER

Releasing a book to the world is known in book talk as “birthing”.  The pain is different but just as real.  I have had to edit and re-edit as one always does and each time it’s brought tears to my eyes.  Not mast cell ones but genuine pain filled ones. I am The Almost Daughter.  I’ve never had a Mother.

The definition of Mother is many things depending on where you look:

a woman who gives birth or has the responsibility of physical and emotional care for specific children

Through the blur, I wondered if I was alone or if other parents felt the same way I did-that everything involving our children was painful in some way. The emotions, whether they were joy, sorrow, love or pride, were so deep and sharp that in the end they left you raw, exposed and yes, in pain.  The human heart was not designed to beat outside the human body and yet, each child represented just that – a parents heart bared, beating forever outside its chest.”

 Debra Ginsberg

My emotions are raw today, part mast cell, part pain and sorrow because I, in my sixth decade have never had a mother, never been mothered.  How can that possibly be?  I’ve laid to rest 3 parents and yet have never had a mother…how the hell can that be?

I, myself am a mother.  Not a perfect one by any means. Never having been mothered I had no healthy base to work from.  There was never any question  when I held my baby for the first time, I knew I was in love. I also felt my birth mother’s pain. I knew I would do everything in my power to protect, to love and cherish, to advise, to teach, to do and be everything I would have wanted for myself from a mother. Far from perfect with many mistakes and still there is an amazing young woman in this world that I am proud to call my daughter that radiates pure joy and love.  As flawed as I was as a mother.. she had one that loved her more than life..she knew that, felt that.  I did not.  Therein lies the difference for those of us abandoned, abused, adopted. We had no mother.

I’ve been known to go deep into the greens of the rainforest alone with my little dog.  I go to sit.  I go to meditate.  I go to cry.  Mostly I go to scream, sobbing into the dark hallows of nature…I WANT MY MOTHER….

IMG_4433

I’ve done this for decades.  I searched for decades, weeping on birthdays and occasions that should bring joy.  I grew myself.  Not in the best way but the only way I knew.  I learned to mother myself, sadly not very well but enough to allow growth and survival.  I was the only one there, to soothe, to comfort, to hold tight.  I now know I can survive anything because I have.  With each trauma another layer of protection was added.  You can imagine then, launching a book with my truth in between the covers lays my heart out on the table as Debra says in her quote. Raw, beating on the outside, so vulnerable, so open.

I watch my beautiful daughter with her newborn son and my eyes well up.  I’m reminded of my time with her, how I tried to everything right.  I’d stare at her for hours in wondrous amazement that this little being was so perfect and had been entrusted into my care.  I see her loving him with her eyes, her touch, her heart that is now on the outside wide open, as mine has been.  He watches her every movement, he smiles at the sound of her voice.  He nuzzles into the safety of her scent, her skin, her genetics, her being, and he knows with all of his heart, he is where he should be and that he is so loved.  Even in utero, he knew.

 I WANT MY MOTHER….PLEASE, PLEASE, LET ME HAVE MY MOTHER

We aren’t taught how to be our own best friend, how to look after our hearts, our minds and bodies.  We aren’t taught how to comfort and soothe our broken hearts.  We learn along the way usually at a great price.

We know the pages and pages of studies that document the importance of babes being placed in their mother’s arms or on their chests for that immediate connection, the knowing, the feeling of love and belonging…the foundation for building a solid base for a healthy being to flourish.

 We, the abandoned ones, the adopted ones, the abused and neglected ones feel that disconnect, the unworthiness, the not being loved and protected, the grounding, the roots.  WE KNOW….WE LIVE IT DAILY.

I’m now going out onto my deck, wiping the tears and sucking up as much oxygen as I can so I can scream at the top of my voice…again….

IMG_4831

It’s Alive !!

The role of a writer is not to say what we all can say,

but what we are unable to say.

Anis Nin

I’ve been away for awhile….again.  Those uncontrollable mast cells have gotten the better of me lately.  I had planned on topics for several blogs in relation to the first memoir Finding Heart Horse.  Many exciting things are happening.

Today I realized as soon as I sent the final cover edits in…the book went live!

Today the cover reveal

If you haven’t read Finding Heart Horse, memoir of Survival  you need to.  The Wall of Secrets, memoir of The Almost Daughter is the sequel.

THE WALL OF SECRETS

MEMOIR OF THE ALMOST DAUGHTER

IMG_4905

About a Horse

ABOUT A HORSE

excerpt from

FINDING HEART HORSE

 

I always wanted a horse. I’ve wanted a wild horse, a Palomino horse, an Appaloosa horse, a racehorse, a pony horse and even a miniature horse. I would have settled for a rocking horse, a stuffed horse or even just a picture of a horse when I was a child, but even those small pleasures were prohibited. And so it was that when I was eight years old, I gave myself my own horse, my imaginary Heart Horse.

I’ve had this strong attraction to horses for as long as I can remember. Like a magnet, they have always pulled me in and held me close. They appear in my dreams and on blank pages in my sketchbook. They calm me when I’m disturbed and excite me when I’m bored. My nose longs to inhale their warmth and my fingers crave the feel of their soft wet nuzzle. My eyes are drawn into their own dark, all-knowing eyes and I immediately feel an inexplicable connection.

This must be what it feels like to be loved

  I think, whenever a horse looks into my eyes.

IMG_0715