I met up with my good friend Dawn Brunke this morning at the Vagabond Blues Coffee shop.  I’d asked her to take a look at my book proposal.  She was incredibly gracious, incredibly encouraging, incredibly nice.

I didn’t tell her what happened the previous night. It happened quite suddenly.  All of a sudden, I had no more words.  I drew a blank.  I had to stop working on my proposal letter, and bring in the firewood.  I also didn’t say that I’d tired of hitting dead ends.  And I didn’t say that I’m again thinking about finding another line of work.

And I didn’t say what I’ve been thinking, which is that writers use one part of their brain when they write and revise, and another when they market their work.  I really believe this.  I am never in the moment when I’m working on marketing. No, I didn’t say any of this because Dawn’s been there and done that.

I instead tried to keep the conversation upbeat, and talked about one of her areas of expertise, animal communication.  I told her how Raudi recently told me she wants to be considered a pony, and how Siggi told me he wants to be considered a horse.  I added that this came in so loud and clear that I know it to be true.  Icelandic  horses, I added, are incredibly stoic, which is why Tinni and Signy remained

Tini and Siggi

Lots of heavy wet snow

mum on this matter.

I sounded like an expert, but I sometimes miss the mark when it comes to animal communication.  Like after I got home.  Pete and I went for a ride. He rode Siggi and ponied Signy and I rode Tinni and ponied Raudi.  I was talking to Pete about how in Iceland they specifically breed horses to be adept at ponying, and they cull out the ones who fail to make the grade.  It was then that Raudi barged ahead, veered to the left, and cut off Tinni, causing me to drop her lead rope and Tinni’s reins.  I watched, as she ran off, kicking and bucking, down the road.  Then I clung to Tinni’s mane as he took off after her, this at a more determined but equally fast gallop.

Time stopped as we flew down road.  I thought of nothing, just fumbled for Tinni’s reins.  Raudi finally turned up a neighboring drive, and Tinni followed suit. Seeing as the road was both unfamiliar, and uphill, Raudi soon stopped, as did her herd mate.  I leapt off him, and grabbed her.

I did not begrudge either for their supposedly bad behavior.  I am really glad that both are feeling so good.  But I can’t help but wonder.  Was Raudi’s taking off her way of bringing about an abrupt change of subject? After all, I was dangerously close to inferring that uncooperative ponies become dinner fare in Iceland.  Or was this an honest attempt on both horses’ part to assist me in freeing my chi.  If so, this worked.   I’m again back at it, writing cover letters to include with my proposal. 

Next: 3. December 3, 2011: Snow and Rain, Mixed