Horse

 

0n the windward side Oahu, in the Keolu Hills, God provided me with a chance to ride…more accurately, perhaps…to walk a horse when I was a boy. I wanted the horse to walk because I hated the trot. A trot would bounce me about and jolt my brains. I could barely stay in the saddle. Like a wimp, I had to hold on to the pommel.

 

I did experience a gallop once or twice, with the help of a friend who cares for the horse. I guess he was a friend. I think we were showing off to a girl, when I offered to sit on the horse backward. God knows what got into me.

 

I sat behind Anthony, my back to his back, holding on to a couple of leather straps. I thought we were going to walk easily up the hill. But soon we were trotting, and I began to protest. My eyes grew big and rattled in their sockets. I couldn’t sit up straight and began to tilt forward. The horse’s behind, including its hind hooves, grew huge in my face. It was then that Anthony urged the horse into a gallop.

 

Hanging on for dear life, I experienced the wild power of the horse, a force so other, like God Himself, and so amazingly more powerful than myself, so incomprehensibly relentless. Hanging almost upside down, praying the ride would end before I got kicked in the face, I kept muttering, “Stupid…how stupid, 0 God, can I be?”

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