Magic and emotion
Sometimes I am captivated by unique moments that touch me – perhaps only me – with fulfilling emotion and inner joy.
Sometimes these are superficially simple, insignificant experiences – and yet they can go deep. Like these days during a short vacation at Dienstlgut in Carinthia:
—
Attracted by the magical sound of horse hooves I look up from my thoughts …
there it appears …
a horse’s head …
right at the corner of the beautiful yellow building … pauses – pricks up his ears …
and then strides on relaxed under the saddle of his rider in the four beat of his hooves …
a white horse under yellow-gold shining maple trees …
on well-kept cobblestones of the noble estate …
a neigh – another neigh and another neigh … horses calling to each other …
filling the autumn air with loud, quivering sounds …
The white horse advances …
and moves further and further away …
his rider trots on …
white gravel road …
country lane …
forest floor …
I sense the joyful synchronous beating of both hearts.
What remains is supposed emptiness.
Where has it gone – the magic, the flair, the spirit of the horse?
It is still there – in my heart …
conjures a smile on my lips, makes my heart dance and my lungs breathe freely.
What would the world be without these wonderful creatures?
Hardly imaginable, at least not for me.
They have always fascinated me – since I can remember until today. Always searching, always following their trail, always hoping to understand them one day, to really understand them. And to be able to ride them – in deepest trust to each other, listening to each other, being with each other.
Like a CENTAURA.
Irmi Kronsteiner
Magic and emotion
Sometimes I am captivated by unique moments that touch me – perhaps only me – with fulfilling emotion and inner joy.
Sometimes these are superficially simple, insignificant experiences – and yet they can go deep. Like these days during a short vacation at Dienstlgut in Carinthia:
—
Attracted by the magical sound of horse hooves I look up from my thoughts …
there it appears …
a horse’s head …
right at the corner of the beautiful yellow building … pauses – pricks up his ears …
and then strides on relaxed under the saddle of his rider in the four beat of his hooves …
a white horse under yellow-gold shining maple trees …
on well-kept cobblestones of the noble estate …
a neigh – another neigh and another neigh … horses calling to each other …
filling the autumn air with loud, quivering sounds …
The white horse advances …
and moves further and further away …
his rider trots on …
white gravel road …
country lane …
forest floor …
I sense the joyful synchronous beating of both hearts.
What remains is supposed emptiness.
Where has it gone – the magic, the flair, the spirit of the horse?
It is still there – in my heart …
conjures a smile on my lips, makes my heart dance and my lungs breathe freely.
What would the world be without these wonderful creatures?
Hardly imaginable, at least not for me.
They have always fascinated me – since I can remember until today. Always searching, always following their trail, always hoping to understand them one day, to really understand them. And to be able to ride them – in deepest trust to each other, listening to each other, being with each other.
Like a CENTAURA.
Irmi Kronsteiner
