GALLOP IN GLORY, BEN

Rev. Dr. Kate Winters, Dwelling in Presence, July 4, 2023

This past Saturday morning, Joel and I sat under a wide and glorious willow tree with a dozen or so other people. We were invited by Val and Abe to celebrate the life and mourn the death of Ben, Val’s beloved friend and Abe’s fellow horse and buddy for over 20 years.

Not having been to a memorial service for a horse before, I was curious and happy to be there for this magnificent animal – tall and brown with wild white spots on his hind end. Ben had come through for Joel and me when we were looking for another location for our children’s message during the pandemic. Not very talkative, but fully present, Ben welcomed us into his barn with our cameras and our questions. I remember there was something very soothing in being there with him and Abe. Oh yes, and with Val, who is constantly brimming over with joy in all living things.

The circle that had gathered to celebrate Ben created a most gentle energy from the very beginning. Much like the energy of the horse himself. We were all asked to bring a story about an animal we had loved. One woman rang her Tibetan cymbals three times and then I was asked to begin with prayer. So I called us to note the sacred ground we gathered on, made sacred by the love given and received in this place among all the creatures. And then the stories came, beginning with an “Ode to Ben” written by one of the men. It was sad and funny and full of obvious care.

What is it about our love for our animals that brings out the gentleness in us? Each person spoke with such devotion of a special cat or dog or horse either still with them or gone before. As for me, I am brought to great tenderness looking into the eyes of wild things – the barred owl in the tree, the staring moose across the field, the wolf/coyote who held my gaze coming out of the woods. Val’s description of life with Ben was beautiful, with none of the caveats that usually crop up when describing life with another human being. No down side, no disturbing quirks, just pure appreciation. And deep love.

Just as Joel was about to end the gathering with a closing prayer, someone said “Oh, look!” Abe, who was not visible during the service, came aroud the house and into the field next to the willow tree. He looked over the fence and took in the circle. In silence, he told his story of love and loss. It was a holy moment. The creatures who live alongside of us understand and feel so much more than we know. They have their own wild wisdom. May we watch, listen, and learn.