Gryph's Lair

Tonight's class was centered around learning about the Sabbats and doing a God journey. The journey was interesting, and I still am not sure I understand the messages completely, but I've taken note of them and if I am meant to understand them, I will.

As we were led down a path, suddenly at my side looked a huge pure-white Gypsy Vanner. Strange that it was pure white, since they are usually paints (which is one of the attractions for me). I've been in passionate love with Gypsy Vanners (some people call them Gypsy Cobs, Irish Cobs, etc. There's some debate about the "correct" name, but since I first learned about them as Gypsy Vanners, that's the name I use) when I started my Draft Dreams website more than 12 years ago. The OLDEST version of the site is still online here. Be warned, it's FULL of dead links. Draftdreams.com isn't up anymore, although maybe one day it will be. During it's time, Draft Dreams was the second largest draft-horse website on the 'net. To see what a Gypsy Vanner looks like, here is a website from a Redmond, WA based breeder.

Anyhow, back to the subject at hand- Gypsy Vanners. One day I will have one. At least one. I know now's not the right time for me, and it kills me not to be around horses. The smell literally kills a little piece of me, I miss horses so bad. I got my first horse when I was 10, and when I was 18 I sold her because I didn't have time for her. In the meantime, we had four other horses that came and went. Judy was my heart-song, though. She wasn't a Vanner, but she was literally my best friend.

I think I've been in denial of my horse-passion for many years. I can't afford horses right now, and quite frankly even if I could I simply do not have the time to commit, which is the most important thing. Maybe it won't be until I retire that I will be able to have horses again, but one day I will. I'm certain of it.

This white Vanner, who I know (somehow) was a stallion, turned to look me in the eye, and said straight into my thoughts, "Do not deny me." All the while I was preening about my wolf spirit guide, I think I was denying my horse spirit guide. I had always assumed that once I became a parent, the horse spirit guide left me, but I think the honest truth is, I left him.

The experience brought tears to my eyes. The rest of the journey was almost anticlimactic. I leaped onto his back (yeah as if THAT could happen in real life- he was HUGE), and we continued on down the path, together. I could feel his comforting warmth through my jeans, and his muscles bunching beneath my thighs. I wrapped my hands into his incredibly thick mane, and then just closed my eyes to enjoy the experience. If you've never ridden a horse, it's hard to explain the swaying, the sound of his hooves, the smell of horse-sweat, leather, and sweet hay.

We reached the described creek, and rather than me drinking from it, he did. But I could taste the crisp clean water anyhow. We continued on to the described giant oak, and once we reached the tree I slid from his back, pressing into him for a long moment, just breathing while he reached around his massive head and blew his sweet hay breath over me.

Finally I turned to the tree and wrapped my arms around it, eventually melding into the tree and heading for the breeze-tossed branches at the top. God came to me as a Centaur, eerily enough, but darker and swarthier than my white Vanner below. Dark charcoal dapples covered his horse-half, with heavy feathers like a Shire. His human half was sleek and heavily muscled, as I would imagine a draft stallion would look if he turned human. He sported long, thick, tangled dark hair and a flowing tangled beard. His eyes were pools so dark they looked black. He leaned towards me, and stated clearly. "Be strong." Then he handed me a scroll, and I unrolled it to read "Share your core of strength." I looked up and met his eyes, confused, but the look he gave me was knowing. A name floated into my head.... and I knew it was my Craft name. StormSong.

I reached into my pocket and pulled out an arrow. I remember thinking, "what, do I have Mary Poppins pockets, to pull this thing out of there?" The arrow was sleek and black, with some sort of ebony, heavily grained wood, a chipped obsidian head, and sleek iridescent black feathers as the fletching.

I retraced my steps back to the bottom of the tree and was once again with my White Stallion, where I leaped onto his back again and we made our way back down the path before my journey ended.

I literally had tears in my eyes. While my wolf spirit guide brought a fierce sense to me, my horse guide brought me passion.