She’s in Iceland, author Pam Houston, sharing pictures of Icelandic horses she’s ridden at high speeds through weather, including pelting ice. I am awed by her bravery because horses can kill you. I suspect it’s her trust and her radiant love that keeps her safe.
I look at how cautious I am with my horse. I hesitate to do much more than drive around our fields even though Morgen has never bolted.
Orthodox priest, Stephen Freeman identifies my problem, in his essay Only Love Knows Anything: “There’s a part of us that is wired to be careful. It senses danger and hunkers down…A warning system is not designed to serve as a world lens. It does not see beauty, it fails to see the true complexity and wonder of the world, and it darkens and obscures any knowledge of God, including our sense of His presence.”
In her memoir, Deep Creek, Pam Houston says, “There’s not enough luck in the world to explain all the gifts I’ve received since then, all the strangers who’ve come through for me when I trusted them with my life.” Time after time, she offers proof, including paying off a note on her ranch through her creative writer’s livelihood.
As for me, it’s time to put down my fearful, cautious lens, and like Houston, in my own way, behold the world—the tree I look at multiple times a day, Morgen’s happy ears when I do drive her, the moon settling her bottom on the horizon.
I’m Katie Andraski and that’s my perspective.