From the very beginning, animals have been my constant companions, my teachers, and my guides. Among all those treasured connections, Thunder—a magnificent grey horse with a flowing blonde mane—came into my life at the age of ten, during a time when I needed his steady presence more than I knew.
Thunder arrived on our family farm as I was navigating a childhood filled with emotions that often felt overwhelming and confusing.
Back then, I didn’t fully understand why I felt so deeply, why joy and fear could wash over me in such intensity.
Looking back, I recognize now that being highly sensitive shaped much of my early experience—and Thunder was a quiet anchor through it all.
One of my most vivid memories with Thunder was the day I decided to ride him alone for the very first time.
Up to that point, my sister always accompanied me, but I wanted to prove to myself that I could be independent and brave. As we ventured into the wide-open fields of our 25-acre farm, a wave of fear washed over me—but with Thunder beneath me, I found the courage to push past it.
The ride began with a steady trot, and soon I was galloping—feeling the wind whip through my hair and the freedom of movement surge through my veins. It was a moment of pure joy and triumph, a breath of empowerment in the midst of emotional turmoil.
Then, suddenly, everything changed. I lost my balance and fell hard to the ground. Looking up, I saw Thunder calmly moving ahead, his saddle slipped awkwardly to the side. The weight of failure hit me all at once—I blamed myself for the fall, terrified that I’d lost the trust we shared. I was afraid to climb back onto Thunder, afraid to risk that fall again.
But there’s a saying in riding: “If you fall off, you just need to get back on.” Thunder became my teacher of resilience—not just to get back on his back, but to face my fears and the emotions I had locked inside for so long.
That day, hidden beneath the story of a childhood fall, was a deeper lesson. Thunder invited me to heal—to acknowledge the trauma I’d buried and to find the courage to move forward. With his patient spirit holding space for my healing, I learned to embrace my sensitivity as a strength, and to trust in the process of growth.
Our bond went beyond rider and horse. Thunder communicated wisdom and calm strength every day. Whether braiding his forelock, sharing quiet moments in the barn, or feeling his steady presence beside me, he was a soul friend who carried me through challenging times with unwavering kindness.
When it was time for Thunder to leave our farm and begin his next adventure, I felt a deep sadness, but also immense gratitude. I keep his photo on my desk, a daily reminder of the lessons he gave me about bravery, trust, and unconditional love.
Thunder’s gift was more than the rides or the companionship—it was the way he taught me to hold space for my feelings, to get back up when life knocks me down, and to find strength in vulnerability.
He was, and always will be, my teacher, my healer, my blessing.
Beautiful Thunder, thank you for your many gifts.
