Random July 4th Highlights

July 4th fireworks,
a very primitive way
to remember the gods...

This was an independence day like no other, a festival amongst a treehouse city. Literally: a village of treehouses connected to one another by swaying rope bridges. Remember the Ewoks? Kinda like that. Amazing.

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Meet a crazy old lady. Get to talkin'. She thinks I'm 10 years old. Really. When I tell her I'm 27, she doesn't believe me. Calls over her crazy old husband, a man dancing with his cane in the air.

"How old is this boy...?" she asks.

A toothless grin.

"Ohhh... I'd say about 29."

It's not often you witness strangers argue whether you're a child or a man. Here's a little secret: I'm 10 and 29. And 43.

---

I need a break from the throngs of celebrants and walk over to the meadow where the horses graze. I meet a solitary horse, also taking a break from the herd. He's magnificent. Solid tan color, muscular, walks with poise and grace. A single word comes to mind and repeats. Noble. Noble.

Most times, when a definition of a word is needed, you go to a dictionary where it describes words with more words. But as I gaze at this horse, I know nobility like I never have before. Of course, using words, I can't describe it better than any book. But in this instant I know that being noble has nothing to do with bloodlines, wealth, or manners. Nobility is simply knowing what you are. Understanding you are a vessel in which God lives. Seeing the miracle of life manifest in you. No ego. No pride. Just glory.

I try to woo the steed over by clicking my tongue on the top of my mouth. He shoots me a sideways glance and measures me up. He resumes grazing. I attempt to lure him with a handful of straw. He makes that sound which horses make and can only be interpreted as laughter. It becomes clear he won't be commandeered by any two-bit stable boy. "What are you?" he seems to ask. "Do you know like I know?"

These are intelligent creatures, no doubt. I begin to suspect the psychology between man and horse can run deep. I think of the stories I've heard about men "breaking" a horse; forcing it's will beneath his own.

I turn my back on the horse who ignores me, and gaze into the distance. I watch the color fade from the hills and retreat with the dying light. In wordless wonder I feel the beauty and complexity of life and am thankful, horse or no horse, to be standing right where I am. What a life. What a life.

I turn around and he is next to me. I smile and we share an understanding. My hand reaches out and touches his face. He enjoys my touch for a moment, then turns and walks away, as if glory can not be possessed.