People are drawn to the bronze, winged mythical horse, standing strong in Tucson airport. He pulls them in with his mystery, magesty and nobility. He stands poised, ready to take flight in the place where the two-legged can fly across the lands and oceans.
His shining turquoise gaze is attentive, ready and watchful. Listening for his call to take flight, to spread his wings and his messages to those willing to listen.
He came to me from the stars one beautiful clear night, to remind me of my spiritual calling on this earth. And to show me the love waiting for me, when I trust and let go, and just be.
He stars at me now, intently, asking: "Are you ready? Come fly with me, to the stars, to the spirits of this land, with the horses in form now, and the horse ancestors."
He's ready to gallop, to fly, to bring forth his wisdom and guidance; as am I.
And so it was with my own experience with a magestic real-life horse. A stunning, big bay mare called Laramie. He reminds me of Laramie. Of her alert eyes when she's listening and watching. Of her desire to move, freely and with such power. Yet as she grazes, dozes, enjoys a good, long scratch or just stands quietly with me after we've joined-up, her eyes soften to a mellow, silky black coal, exuding peace, contentment, love and beauty.
She is Beauty.
I am Beauty.
We are Beauty.
As I looked in to her eyes that first time and saw her, I saw a reflection of myself shining back. One I had only a vague inkling about, one that was deeply, deeply buried beneath layers of dross.
As we felt nothing but pure love for each other, the possibility of having fun together sprang forth, like a mountain spring. My heart re-opened and began to sing. Memories of the beautiful relationship I'd had years before with another beautiful bay mare came flooding back and kick started a fire in my belly.
I can be strong. I can be with a powerful big horse and be safe, and, have fun. And so we did. We played together. We ran together. We rode together. And we were could just BE with each other.
And so, Pegasus stands and waits. Content to draw the souls and spirits of people to him. Unconscious of the pull, they keep coming, he touches something buried deep inside their psyches and their souls.
It's lying dormant now, waiting for its moment of re-awakening; of resurrection. Like a phoenix rising from the flames, his golden bronze skin shines. Patience abides his golden hooves and wings. Poised yet patient, his presence glows like the Arizona evening desert sunset.
And so it will be tomorrow and the day after that.
His glittering wings are like an Indian's feathers: sacred, golden eagle feathers. They're flared, open to the winds, lifting up to the sky. The eagle sits astride the horse, lending his magnificent wings to the creature of the land, to transport him into the skies; into the heavens.
His jewelled eyes sparkle with a deep, intense blue glow. They question, they wonder: are the humans listening yet? And I tell him, yes Pegasus we are listening and we are changing.
I await our next dance together.
© Angela Dunning, 1 October 2006