The World In Chewy's Eye
Inspired by JPS Brown's “The World In Poncho's Eye”
Chewy gave me my first ride on his back one late October morn. He wasn't much to look at, a grade horse whose ears were more than a tad too long, making him look muley, and he had a roman nose and scarred up face which confirmed his rangy look and namesake, “Chewbacca”. His scarred face came from his selectively obstinate personality. He would stand ground tied while being shod, or while waiting for his rider to complete some task not done from the saddle. But, he could not be tied to a post or fence or a bale of hay for even a minute. He would pull back with all the strength of a tractor, pulling the object he was tied to along with him. And, if he could not pull it with him, he would lunge forward, ramming his face into the post or side of a trailer or barn, then pull back again until either the object gave way or he was cut loose. A few people told me they could “fix” Chewy. I told them I had the fix already, just untie him, he will stand.
He'd been ridden in the Texas brush for all of his seven years. The day I first met him, and we trotted out to locate and bring up a remuda, he was prime, well muscled, bright eyed and alert, his coat shone in the sun like copper tinged with gold. Chewy was not flashy, but power and try emanated from him and proved out when he went to work.
And, we worked, horses mostly, a few cattle. Turn-back was his specialty and he could turn west and leave you in the air still facing east. He left me there more than once, I have to admit, but he always came back to get me, and right now too. He never made me go after him, he never ran out his momentum. He just turned on that proverbial dime and came back, like a partner, like a friend.
There was an underlying gentleness of spirit, and a playful soul in him. Tag was a favorite game, steal your hat and run like hell was another. You learned quick not to show up with a drink and crushed ice, you wouldn't get anything done till he had that cup in his teeth, tipping it back to drink off the sweet residue. I would often go to the barn late at night after my bartending job, stopping for a burger and fries, then sit in the paddock with the horses turned out. Soon enough, quiet and slow, as if I would not know he was there, Chewy’s head would come over my shoulder and snitch my French fries one at a time.
My daughters were very young then, not in school yet. He taught them both to ride, taking them from walk to trot to lope when he felt they were ready and not until. Many a time, as I rode of an evening through the old church yard peach orchard, or across a sunset painted pasture, one child in my arm, one tied on behind me, Chewy rocked my babies to sleep.
From a long ago horse in my child hood I had learned about the world in a horses' eye. I was fascinated to watch the scene behind me in the large orb that painted everything brown and sepia like an old time photograph. I had shown that world to my children, that world in a horse’s eye. I held them up so they could see, and they would reach a finger out to try and touch that world, to connect, to prove it was there. Maybe that world is where children really come from and wish to stay....maybe it was familiarity as much as fascination that made them reach out. A sense of belonging in that place, the world in a horses eye. But, living life makes you think hard and long and it'll make you weary and worn if you let it. You can forget the magic if you're not careful. And, there was I one summer afternoon.
The girls and I had all climbed up on Chewy's bare back and ridden out to a tank for a swim and picnic. They were laughing and splashing in the water, I was lying on the grass watching them as Chewy grazed behind me. I turned to see his head only a foot or so away from mine, my eyes directly in line with his one eye when he paused his munching to look at me. In Chewy’s eye, there were clouds sailing by. Seed heads on the grass were bobbing in the breeze, the trees in the distance, the little cut bank on the creek that fed the tank and, right there were my children, dancing in his eye.
The world in Chewy's eye was rich and full, dynamic, vital, and encompassing no more than he could process in that span of time. You could not see the past in his eyes, and you could not see the future, just the more-important now. Chewy's world could be no bigger and no smaller than what was taking place in that moment, no bigger or smaller than the world reflected in his eye. If he saw opportunity to steal my hat, or give one of the kids a gentle shove away from danger, he took it. He did not fret, or plan. He was exuberant in what he had now and he drank it up until he was satisfied. There were no embarrassing moments, no thought of too much or not enough, no fear of the dark or perhaps of tomorrow’s not coming. Fear was experienced only at the precise moment it was necessary. It was not a constant state of being.
I saw the phases of the moon in Chewy’s eyes, I saw the stars in the big night sky. On a stormy night, when I went to find him, I saw in his eyes flashes of lightning and the sleet that stung our hides. When I looked in Chewy's eye, I saw me as he saw me, plain and true and honest. What I read in his eyes was the pure reflection of his reading of me. There was no supposing or pretending of thought or intention. He knew what I was thinking and feeling and intending. We humans spend too much time looking at our selves with carefully selected mirrors. And worse, we examine our selves, our very souls and spirits, from the outside, sometimes with a microscope, often with a kaleidoscope. We rarely take measure of the purity of our reflection in our fellow human’s eye. We have forgotten, if we ever were taught, the language of the soul. We have learned to ignore the yearning for knowledge of another’s innermost being. We deny our desperate need for spiritual connection to another human because the work, the time required, remove us from what the world is telling us we should be doing instead. The fear of being hurt, abandoned, rejected keep us from looking deep, living deep, breathing deep into another’s eyes and soul. We have been deceived, lead astray from the purpose of our creation; relationship. We do not know who we are, not for certain. And, we do not know who we are in relationship to other souls.
The world in Chewy's eye told me exactly who I was, who I wasn't, and who I needed to be each and every moment. Whether we were heading out to bring in the other horses, or I had my face buried in his winter coat, crying my eyes out over some pitiful, fleeting moment in time; or taking an end of chores jaunt to the drive-through at the Dairy Queen, there were no hard edges, no lies, just the truth in my heart looking back at me through the world in Chewy's eye.
(C) 2008 Nancy Elliott Music & Sonoran Desert Sage Pub. ASCAP