No. Not my horse.

Me.

I'm talking about the incredible lightness of doing absolutely nothing.

Sitting on a bucket in the Sunday afternoon sunshine in the pasture. Surrounded by horses. Scratching the itch of my daughter's Andalusian mare Caprichosa while she nuzzles my hair and then gives me a good lick or two on the top of my head for good measure. Nostril to nostril, we breathe in each other. She's telling me something. As the mare gets older (she's 15 now), she mellows. Kind of like me, I guess.

She cocks a hip, looms over me. I know it's probably not a great idea to sit on a bucket in front of a 1,000 pound her animal with a flight instinct. But her eyes are half-closed, bottom lip drooping. I watch the sunshine on her long whiskers, which are not very ladylike by the way, I tell her.

We both doze. Immersed in the stream of eternity. The here. And the now.