“Have ye ever tried mindfulness?” His tone is a bit hesitant, like he’s afraid to offend me.
“Is that like meditation?”
“That’s resting your mind. Mindfulness is listening to your mind and the emotions you are feeling and learning how to control them,” he answers.
I shake my head, having only ever meditated before.
Torin’s smile is comforting, bringing me back to the present. “I want ye to try it with me.”
“Uhhh, ok, what do I do?”
“Close your eyes and open up your other senses to your surroundings,” he begins, his voice taking on a tranquil quality. “Focus on what ye hear, what ye smell, and what ye feel physically.”
“I hear?—”
“Nae, dinna tell me, lass, just think about it.” He chuckles softly.
“Oh, sorry,” I grumble. I feel like a giant idiot, sitting atop Sleipnir in the middle of the ring with my eyes closed, trying to hear and smell things.
But Torin continues without missing a beat. “Nae problem. Ok, we’re finding our place, our senses are open, and we’re going to open our minds to what we feel on the inside.” He pauses. “Listen to whatever your mind is feeling, whether you’re tired, hungry, scared—things of that nature. Now, you’re gonna hold it, metaphorically, in the palm of your hand while taking a deep breath to the count of four.”
He waits, allowing me time to inhale. “Now hold your breath for a count of four, and then exhale for a count of four, and hold that emptiness for a count of four.”
Again, he gives me time to do what he’s instructed. I begin to feel the effects.
My pulse begins to slow, and my mind stops spinning.
“Now you’re gonna tell yourself: I feel this, but I’m gonna put it down and you’re gonna put what ye ha’ in your hand down while ye continue doing another sixteen-count breath.”
My thoughts, once screaming through my mind, are now only whispers. The weight on my chest lightens.
I peek open my eyes and see Torin smiling broadly up at me. “Did it help?”
My smile is answer enough. “Where did you learn that?”
He shrugs off my excitement. “Ach, when you’re my age, ye pick up a thing or two, lass. Now let’s see if we can fix your seat, too.”
Torin leads me around the ring once and then makes me do another round of mindfulness before he leads me around again, but this time at a trot, and follows it up with yet another sixteen-second breath.
On and on that goes until I get the hang of it and feel more in sync with Sleipnir’s gait. Torin hands me the reins and nods at me to give it a go on my own. I ease Sleipnir into a canter, and my nerves, which usually roil under the surface, do not reappear.
I’ve never felt so sure of myself, especially while on the back of a horse. My cheeks are burning from the ridiculous grin I have plastered on my face.
A shooting star of a thought whizzes by.
I wish my dad could see this.
All too quickly, my happiness dissipates, and my smile falters before completely dropping. I pull Sleipnir to a stop in front of Torin and quickly dismount.
“Thank you for the lesson, but I’m sure Gran’s therapy is almost through, and I should head back,” I mumble, holding the reins to him.
Torin pauses, sensing my discomfort, before he takes the reins from my outstretched hands. I came down here to avoid being alone, but now that my emotional walls are crumbling, solitude is all I crave. The amazing feeling of riding without fear is overshadowed by the heartache of my dad never getting to see it.
On the way back to the house, quieter than the songs of the birds and the wind rustling through the evergreens, is the very distant gravelly caw of a raven. I look up from the path, but don’t see any ravens. Chalking it up to my imaginationand hoping it’s not another omen, I keep heading for the house.
The soft notes of a piano echo down the hall and gently tug me towards the formal living room. When I peer through the door, I see Maggie, Gran’s music therapist, squeezed onto the bench beside her. Maggie is a sweet soul and dutifully nods along to Gran’s playing.
The song is soft and whimsical, flowing like a gentle river.
