the Story of a War Horse

It’s been a while since one of my horses has volunteered their stories, guess today is as good as any. 

Everyone has dreams, small ones, big ones, no two are really the same. 

When animals incarnate into their lives, especially those who came to partner with humans, they hold a broader vision of those dreams. 

I dreamt of being a horse girl. For as long as I can remember. I still remember the very first time I sat on a horse. She was a bay mare named ShakeItUp, actively racing at a track in Ruidoso, New Mexico. My mom’s boyfriend threw a white hand towel on her back and sat me on top of her as she walked circles in the stall. She was amazing, she ate warm soaked oats mid day and I got to help stir them. My mom won first place at the state fair with a photograph of her and my sister. 

I’m not sure if because of her my soul became tied to Thoroughbreds, or if I was born with a soul to seek them out, but all of my greatest loves are Thoroughbreds. 

It’s no surprise that most Thoroughbreds who incarnate into this world are born to a demanding and unyielding industry. The industry itself has always left a bad taste in my mouth. As a kid I watched kind hearted people push and pull young nervous horses around with chains under their lips. I also watched unkind people whip and beat horses who were scared to move forward. I know, it happens everywhere… but I’m talking about Thoroughbreds and my experience. 

I currently have three TB’s and two in spirit. One changed my life forever, and he is soul tied to my most recent arrival, Saintly Son “Geno”, reunited after being pulled off the track together over ten years ago by the Winter Farm OTTB Rescue (Love you Holly, we feel you watching down all the time). 

I know my own beliefs about how I want horses to be treated. I also know that every soul chooses their purpose and experiences through their energetic alignment. Humans are humans everywhere. Industry or not. Everyone is learning. 

If you ask all but one of my TB’s about racing, they have a more negative outlook…which probably explains their very few races or none at all. Not their path. 

But Geno, he spent 10 years on the track.

And he was good at running. 

The people who retired him memorialized him, they still do. Actually a recent post from his last owner (who was the one to retire him) inspired this conversation. (Thank you Kembrough for loving my two boys, you are a big reason I have them). 

I believe horses have a voice. We should not assume their path, or what’s good or bad for them. Humans tell enough stories, and for good reason, but horses have their own stories too… and it’s been my life’s purpose to help them tell them. 

Geno’s story is a little like this… 

He knew he’d be born into an industry and it would not be easy, and because it would not be easy on him, he would not be an ‘easy’ horse. He would be born to a body that could withstand a lot, for the sake of all the dreams it would carry. He would work hard, his body would change and become sore because of it, but he would never lose sight of why he chose this path. 

Life is a journey, it’s un-ending until it is. As the journey persists so do the experiences that carry us through it. Some of them better than others. 

He showed me, someone in his path would have a dream. 

She’d have something to prove, to others, maybe just to herself. That she was bigger than her fears, her doubts, the limitations placed on her. She’d need someone to help her. Someone with the same vision for themselves. Someone with heart and who’d know hers. She’d need someone who could help her believe in herself, and in return she’d believe in them too.  

He wouldn’t meet her right away, he’d wait for her. 

He’d spend what feels like a lifetime running toward that person and her dream. 

And when they’d meet, they’d win. It would be the only win in her name. It meant something to her, and she meant something to him. 

And that win would live in her heart until it one day carries her into the afterlife. She’d remember him, honor him, and make sure he knew how grateful she was. 

She would say things about him like - 

“Geno wasn’t a horse that would submit to “training,” he just let you hold the reins once in a while and it wasn’t for long. He was trained by the wind and the heavens.”  

And 

“I'll never forget him. He and I were so young and in our prime.. We were ready to take on the whole world. He was an absolute warrior on the racetrack.” 

And she’d be the one to release him from the industry he was born into. She’d promise to find him green grass, and a home that feels like “thank you.” And she would. She did. 

He would live on grassy hills, and nicker for treats every day, and have a mare to call his own. 

He’d stand under a fan in the summer with a mountain of hay under his chin. 

And he’d end up somewhere where he could tell his own story. 

.

.

That felt ok to him, he thought…

So he raced. 

And now he rests, on grassy hills, and in the hearts of everyone who’s known him. 

He’s the loudest nicker in the barn. 

He says: “I could have chosen anything, but the person who believed in me liked to run, and so did I.” 

Thanks for loving him Kembrough, and for helping me see a different perspective in all of it through loving Big Gene. 

He says, “I love you too. We believed in each other. We both kept our promise.” 

Every horse in my life has changed me for the better, but Thoroughbreds man… they’re something else. I feel so blessed to  be home to this guy in his later years.

Saintly Son, “Geno”

Pictured above is Geno and his soul mate, Kip, reunited for the first time in over 10 years