UPDH has been taking me for such a ride. It's like a bucking bronco trying its damnedest to toss me. When I perceive being tossed to be a failure, I try like hell to hang on tighter—I want to show that horse who's boss, gosh darn it.
But, a few fleeting moments of exhilaration aside, the ride is pretty painful.
I eventually decide to let loose the reins. I take the resulting airborne journey, replete with inevitable bone-rattling landing, as a gift.
I dust myself off, hobble out of the ring, take stock.
Three things are clear to me:
1. the ride was wild,
2. every inch of me is sore, and
3. I am fascinated by the creative dynamic that was in play. From the moment I started this painting, there was some kind of mismatch between horse and rider. Our energy never aligned.
I've put a blanket on the horse; I'm putting myself in a hot tub for a soak.
The latter part of the ride in review: