hunterseat df: Hunter Seat Equitation is a division that is judged on the ability and the style of the rider. The riders can be judged both over fences and on the flat.
Although true, hunters DO eat, at least the skilled ones do, my name derives from the world of horses.
And because the word hunter is in my name, people automatically think I'm a guy. Not even close.
Whenever I meet someone named Hunter I have to bite my tongue to keep from saying "That's my name, too!"
Although true, hunters DO eat, at least the skilled ones do, my name derives from the world of horses.
And because the word hunter is in my name, people automatically think I'm a guy. Not even close.
Whenever I meet someone named Hunter I have to bite my tongue to keep from saying "That's my name, too!"
Chosen by a Horse
Posted 05-09-2014 at 08:37 PM by hunterseat
I just finished reading the National Bestseller, Chosen by a Horse. I found these words near the end stunning and remarkable.
"My mother's death was my death - a death and a birth at the same time. The death of the child I still only knew through my mother's eyes and the birth of someone unrecognizable - this new child, faceless without her mother mirror. A child with no proof of her own existence. The death of a mother is an annihilation of that first love, which is narcissistic and fierce by nature because survival hangs on it. ...To love without an echo is the death knell of the soul. Foolishly, the soulless body grows anyway, marches into the future without its nucleus, without is self, bonsaied by this echoless love." From Chosen by a Horse by Susan Richards
"My mother's death was my death - a death and a birth at the same time. The death of the child I still only knew through my mother's eyes and the birth of someone unrecognizable - this new child, faceless without her mother mirror. A child with no proof of her own existence. The death of a mother is an annihilation of that first love, which is narcissistic and fierce by nature because survival hangs on it. ...To love without an echo is the death knell of the soul. Foolishly, the soulless body grows anyway, marches into the future without its nucleus, without is self, bonsaied by this echoless love." From Chosen by a Horse by Susan Richards
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