This is about the journey.
My path, your path, the way they converge mountaintop in the setting sun, the way we each have to pick a careful trail through the detritus of shifting plans and outcroppings of trials. It's the sharp gulp of air across the tongue, the heady rhythm of a gallop, the wind blowing through every hidden layer. It's the way memory is recalled in scent and sound: the crunch of oak leaves under hoof and the smell of late afternoon grapevines. It's about wearing grime under fingernails as proof, about those frayed pony hairs you braided into your own.
Really, this is about holding a streak of horse-fire in your soul.
Last weekend I had one of those moments of insistant intuition, those moments where one has to drop EVERYTHING else and leap into the abyss of an idea. I sketched and drew and sawed out this tiny thundering herd, not entirely sure where they would gallop but positive they needed life. As they began to take shape, I thought about everything that the horse symbolizes to me; an open road, the afternoon sun, the start of a fresh journey, soulful travel and above all, the intimate connection with the wild. I think when one had horse-fire in their blood it never leaves, but always courses with a whinny and a snort.
The Equus Ring
(100% sterling silver)