Thanks, ((((Lighter)))) -- the damn thing's off me as of yesterday!
Oy, men. M really stepped in it this morning when his morning email included a picture of a bullfight and a totally cerebral explanation of the "crucial role" horses have played in history as "mediators" between the human and animal worlds. He got back a diatribe about how cock fighting, bear baiting and dog fights might have their interpreters as well, how they are "mediators" rather than torture victims, and that bullfighting revolts me at the most profound level and thus I do not care what it symbolises. Ooof. Not nice words for a scholar who deals in the abstract all day but jeez!
I had told him, humorously, at dinner last night how beautiful I find a horse's nostril -- one of the most beautiful things in the world -- soft as velvet, warm, full of sweet oaty breath they'll blow on your cheek. I am a person who ceased riding horses (having loved it for years) when one day I thought about how there was no good reason to subject a horse to me on its back. Light went on, boots went off. But I still adore being near them. Had an amazing experience on college graduation day when I was crushed it was over (four happiest years), went down to the stables, stood by the pasture fence and started sobbing. A horse I didn't even know, way across the field, raised its head, trotted all the way over to me, bent its head and placed its forehead against mine, and stood there stock-still until I was done sobbing. Then went away.
I ain't the right person to send some abstract defense of bullfighting before my caffeine has kicked in! (I'd also told him how when I was 14 in Madrid I was very upset that my father and brother went to the bullfight. I'd refused and stayed in the hotel because I knew what happened to the bull.) I was surprised M went there.
Just rambled through it with my T and got more clarity on how differently we see the world. Fortunately, once you scrape away the scholar there's a sweet heart inside. Whew.
xxoo
Hops