I often wonder what Capprichio sees, what is the record of his world that is held in his body, in the tissue of his memory.
Aug21
Author Archives: Paula Josa-Jones
Aug18
Jon, Maria, Simon, Rose, Lulu, Fanny, Frieda, Izzy, Lenore, Mother. . .
I read Jon Katz’s remarkable book Rose in a Storm last winter in the midst of a big Northeaster. I was hooked. I suddenly needed to know what Rose was up to. Fortunately, I discovered Jon’s excellent blog, Bedlam Farm Journal, and have been feasting on a steady diet of Jon’s daily reflections on life at Bedlam Farm since. Following their adoption of the donkey Simon, I had the opportunity to interview Jon and his wife Maria for my book, Horse Dancing. Jon is the real deal. Maria is too. I feel as if a part of me is nestled in a corner of their farm, relishing the animals, the light on the morning glories in his wonderful photos, the sound of Simon’s morning brays. See you there!
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Aug17
Open heart, open life
I have had this quotation from Alice Walker floating around on my computer forever. time to share it.
“Hearts are there to be broken, and I say that because that seems to be just part of what happens with hearts. I mean, mine has been broken so many times that I have lost count. But it just seems to be broken open more and more and more, and it just gets bigger. In fact, I was saying to my therapist not long ago, “You know, my heart by now feels like it has just sort of dropped open, you know, like how a big suitcase falls open. It feels like that.” Instead of that feeling of having a thorn through your heart, that feeling [Buddhist teacher] Pema Chodron talks about in tonglen meditation, you have a sense of openness, as if the wind could blow through it. And that’s the way I’m used to my heart feeling. The feeling of the heart being so open that the wind blows through it.”
Alice Walker, Shambhala Sun, January 1997
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Aug15
Nelson
Nelson is a wild Mustang culled by the Bureau of Land Management that I have been working with for several months. He has gone to a horse that could not bear to be touched, to a horse that is learning a new vocabulary of touch with humans.
Here I am with Nelson first thing in the morning. Happy boy. Happy me.