The Spirit of the Horse

The Spirit of the Horse

By Kateb Nuri-Alim Shunnar

Now, I ain’t one to get overly poetic unless the mood or the gumbo calls for it, but I gotta tell you the horse, that creature right there, might just be one of The Creator’s slickest reminders that life ain’t meant to be tamed too tight. You ever look at a horse and feel like you’re staring at something that remembers secrets older than Sunday? They carry themselves like they’ve had a few conversations with The Creator directly, and came back with the same conclusion: “Stop worrying, child. Just move.”

See, out there in nature, the horse ain’t just a four-legged lawnmower chewing grass for kicks. Naw, that horse is a walking, trotting sermon. They keep the land breathing their hooves stir the soil, their droppings feed the Earth (yeah, blessings come in all forms), and their spirit keeps the wild alive. They move seeds without even trying, like divine mail carriers spreading life one hoofprint at a time. They don’t need a meeting about it. They just do it. And that’s lesson number one when The Creator built you to do something, you ain’t gotta announce it on social media. Just live it, breathe it, and let your purpose leave prints.

Now down in the bayou, my grandma used to tell this old story about a horse named Magnolia. Lord, that mare was somethin’ else. She wasn’t wild, but she wasn’t exactly domestic either kinda like that one cousin who shows up to every cookout but nobody really knows where she lives. Folks said Magnolia had a gift. If somebody was out there fussin’, worrying, or acting like the sky was fallin’, Magnolia would show up like she’d been summoned by their foolishness.

One day, ol’ Leroy you know the type, full of pride but not enough sense was out in his field complaining about the drought. “Creator done forgot about me!” he hollered, shaking his fist at the clouds like he had a personal beef with heaven. Then here comes Magnolia, slow and steady, head high, mane shining like sunset on the river. She walks up to Leroy, sniffs him once, and snorts loud enough to rattle his hat. Then she rolls right into the dust, legs flailing, tail swishing, dirt flying everywhere just wallowing like she ain’t got a care in the world.

Leroy’s standing there mad as a mule, yelling, “You done lost your mind, Magnolia!” But after a minute, that man started laughing. Big belly laughs, the kind that shake something loose inside you. ‘Cause watching that horse roll around like joy itself, he realized he’d been making his life harder than it needed to be. The rain was gonna come when it came. But peace? That was something he could choose right now.

And that’s lesson number two sometimes The Creator sends a horse, or a situation, or even a fool, to remind you to loosen your grip. You can’t make it rain by worrying, but you can ruin a perfectly good day by trying.

Now, don’t let that story fool you horses got a sense of humor sharper than a Creole cook’s tongue. They’ll test your patience just to make sure you really meant that prayer you said about humility. You ever tried to bridle a horse that wasn’t in the mood? That creature’ll look at you like, “Who you think you talkin’ to?” And if you ain’t paying attention, they’ll step just close enough to your foot to remind you who’s in charge of the moment. But here’s the beauty it ain’t mean. It’s balance. Horses know their worth, and they expect you to know yours too.

Humans could learn a thing or two from that. We spend half our lives begging for validation from folks who wouldn’t recognize our spirit if it danced in front of them in a Mardi Gras costume. But the horse they don’t chase applause. They just are. Confident. Grounded. Useful, yet free. They remind us that the kind of power worth having ain’t the loud, pushy kind it’s the calm, knowing kind that stands tall even when nobody’s watching.

And you ever look a horse in the eye? Lawd, those eyes are deep as the river at midnight. You see yourself in there the parts you like and the parts you pretend don’t exist. Horses don’t judge, but they sure do reflect. They see through pride faster than a preacher’s wife at a gossip table. They sense fear, smell deceit, and recognize sincerity like they been trained by The Creator’s own hand. That’s lesson number three real discernment don’t come from talking loud; it comes from being still enough to feel the truth.

Now, I’ve spent a few days out near the fields, watching horses just be. And it hits me every time they ain’t trying to be beautiful, but they are. They ain’t trying to teach, but they do. They move with purpose but without panic. They trust the wind, the grass, the ground beneath their hooves. Imagine if we lived like that trusting The Creator’s timing instead of trying to rewrite it. We might actually sleep better and argue less.

Down in New Orleans, you’ll see horses pulling carriages through the Quarter, clip-clopping past brass bands and beignets, tourists snapping photos like they just discovered joy. And those horses? They’re cool as the other side of the pillow. They’ve seen the chaos, the drunks, the music, the magic and they just keep on moving, steady as faith. That’s lesson number four don’t let the noise of the world throw off your rhythm. Life’s gonna parade whether you dance or not, so you might as well find your beat and move with it.

And let’s talk about grace not the church kind you whisper about on Sunday, but the kind that shows up when you trip and decide to laugh instead of curse. Horses got that kind of grace. You can watch one stumble, shake it off, and trot like nothing happened. Meanwhile, we humans trip once and build a whole identity out of the bruise. Horses don’t do that. They recover, readjust, and keep it pushin’. The Creator built them to fall without losing dignity maybe ‘cause we needed an example of how to rise without drama.

Now, some of y’all might say, “Kateb, you talkin’ like horses are prophets.” Well, maybe they are just the quiet kind. See, The Creator has a way of speaking through what’s simple. The horse ain’t preaching from a pulpit, but it’s living proof that balance is holiness in motion. They don’t have to say a word to teach patience, humility, strength, or peace. They just exist as living poetry. And if you don’t believe me, stand next to one for five minutes and see if your spirit don’t shift a little.

Magnolia that horse from Grandma’s story they say she lived a long time, outlasted Leroy and half the town. When she passed, folks said the fields felt different for a while, like the wind itself paused to pay respect. Grandma said The Creator don’t take horses away; He just changes their pasture. I like to believe that. Maybe the horses we see here are just echoes of the ones already running through eternity, free as truth and twice as fast.

So here’s the moral of this whole story and you can take it or leave it, depending on how stubborn you’re feeling today. Life is like riding a horse: it’ll buck, twist, throw you now and then, but the ride’s still worth it. You don’t quit ‘cause you fell once you dust off, maybe mutter a few choice words, and climb back up. The Creator didn’t make you fragile; you just forget how much muscle your soul’s got.

And next time you see a horse, take a second look. Not with your eyes with your spirit. You might notice that they ain’t just standing there looking majestic for show. They’re mirroring something back to you that you too are a vessel of motion, grace, and power. And that maybe, just maybe, you need to stop holding the reins so tight and let The Creator lead the trot for a while.

Now don’t get me wrong, life’ll still throw a few rakes in your path, and like old Leroy, you might land face-first in the garden once or twice. But you’ll laugh later, trust me. The horse teaches us that joy ain’t the absence of chaos it’s the ability to find your rhythm inside it. And honey, once you do that, ain’t a storm or fool alive that can break your stride.

So walk tall, snort when necessary, eat your greens, trust your steps, and for heaven’s sake don’t forget to roll in the dirt now and then.

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