01/01/2026
What a beautifully written piece and so true.
NEAR DEATH BUT SO BEAUTIFUL ALL AT THE SAME TIME
I have always lived by this belief, and I always will. I can die today, so make sure it is how you want to leave this earth.
Not in a dark way. Not to be morbid. But because everything that lives will die, and when we forget that, we forget how to live. Life is brief. A blink. A breath. A thin thread we step onto each morning without knowing if it will hold us through the day.
A few days ago, that thread tightened.
I walked out to feed the horses like I do every single day. Same routine. Same quiet rhythm. Buckets filled, each one prepared with intention, each placed according to hierarchy because that matters to a herd. The horses came in calmly. Everything felt normal. Grounded. Familiar.
I stood in the arena by the hitching posts while they ate, doing what feeds my soul just as much as feeding them. Watching. Listening. Letting my shoulders drop.
Breathing in their presence. That deep, sacred stillness where time slows and nothing else exists.
Then a sound happened.
So small it barely registered to the human ear. But to a prey animal, it was everything.
The head of the herd lifted. Ears snapped forward. And in an instant, the calm shattered. One horse moved and the entire herd responded. Flight is not a thought. It is not a choice. It is hardwired survival.
They surged toward the open back door.
I stepped forward to gather the buckets, knowing they would not return in order and each horse needs what is theirs. Three horses had already started to come back, so I ducked under the rail and bent down to grab the first bucket.
That is when every single sense in my body ignited at once.
Sound rushed in from every direction. Hooves. Breath. Movement. Energy crackling through the air. My hearing sharpened. My awareness narrowed. My body knew something before my mind could form the thought.
Then it hit.
A horseโs hindquarters came into my body from behind. Twelve hundred pounds of pure movement. No warning. No time to react. No balance could have saved me.
I went down face first into the dirt, completely flat. The impact forced my body open, arms and legs spread wide like an upside down angel in the snow.
In that moment, I was fully exposed. Every part of my body vulnerable. There was nothing to brace with, nothing to protect myself with. One wrong movement from the horse and serious injury could have followed.
Time did something strange then. It stretched and collapsed all at once.
Lying there, my brain was crystal clear. Oh my gosh. They are going to trample me.
I knew I could not protect my head. I knew I could not guard my spine. There was no rolling away, no bracing, no reaction fast enough. I heard them. I felt the ground vibrate. I remember thinking, they will never do this on purpose, and at the same time knowing fear does not care about intention.
Survival takes over.
I felt hooves strike my legs. Pain shot through me. I did not know if it was front feet or back feet. I did not know what damage had been done. I remember thinking, this might be it. Dead or paralyzed. I donโt know which.
And then just as suddenly as it began, it stopped.
I heard them moving away.
I exploded up off the ground, jumped to my feet, and all that came out of my mouth was Holy F. Holy F.
Heart pounding. Breath sharp. I scrambled back behind the rail, standing there trying to comprehend what had just happened.
And then something incredible occurred.
Nothing else came.
No panic. No shaking. No adrenaline surge.
Instead, there was calm. Deep calm. Steady. Peaceful.
I stood there stunned, amazed that I was okay, amazed at how still my body felt, amazed at how quiet everything inside me became. And the thought that washed over me was not fear, but gratitude.
If that had been my moment to leave this earth, I would have been doing exactly what I love, with the beings I love most. Fully present. Fully alive. Connected to something far bigger than myself. To die well is to live fully.
This experience carved three truths deeper into my bones.
First, A horse is a horse. Always. Their brain is designed for survival, not intention. There was no anger in me. No blame. Only respect. They do not want to hurt us. They want to feel safe.
Second, It pains me when people say, โMy horse would never do that.โ That belief creates danger. Any thousand to two thousand pound animal can cause harm, never out of malice, always out of instinct. Horses are not pets. They are powerful prey animals built of muscle, movement, and sensitivity. When we forget that and place them into a human mindset, we become unsafe. Too often, the horse pays the price for our misunderstanding.
I have seen horses punished for reacting. For surviving. When in truth, we failed them by not understanding their world.
Third, Accidents happen.
Life can change in a breath. And when we cling to blame, unforgiveness, and what should have been, we miss the lesson. Fragility is not meant to scare us. It is meant to wake us up.
To live more fully. To forgive faster. To love deeper. To be grateful for what stands breathing in front of us.
I give thanks every single day to our Lord. And to walk this life alongside these magnificent beings He created is more joy than I sometimes feel worthy of.
Thank you for the reminder. Thank you for the lesson. Thank you for this life.