what happens on friday nights

It happened in the blink of an eye, immediately after i complained on my instagram about having no place to do horse-y things …I found a place.
I came across a non profit horse revival organisation that helps horses in need. And its in town. Crazy — cause i’ve been looking for  places like that since before i even stepped foot in Laramie. I went to a few and never heard anything back when i attempted to reach out after our original meetings. But this one i found out about yesterday morning, sent in my form a little after lunch and had set up a casual meeting at 5.30pm that afternoon.

I left work early, i figured it was owed to me as i arrived earlier than expected in the morning. Jack picked me up from work and we went home, i threw on whatever farm gear i had handy and left, lickity split.
The sun down is always beautiful on that edge of town and everything was beautiful hues of pink and soft purple. The mountains in the distance were already cuddled up to bed.
The people i met were lovely, wonderful and happy people. Folks that you like the moment you meet them. For me thats saying a lot. They treat horses with respect and don’t act like they’re some fluffy teddy bear to show around like a fairy on a string. This non profit is working its bones and doing whatever they can to help what ever horse they can. And i am honoured to be able to become even a little part of it.

Prada – the sweet arabian princess.

This afternoon i’ll be going back to get my hands dirty and trying to get into a swing. I’m a little nervous as i always am when it comes to new things, but im so excited too. I hope i can remember what i’ve learnt over the years, by law im not really a “horse person” like the others around here or anywhere. I didn’t grow up living in it. I grew up chasing it, but this is a great start in a good place. I’ll update you when i can about how it goes.

I hope you enjoy the little video i made of my first trip out there today.
If you like my updates and videos; dont forget to subscribe to the blog and my youtube! You can also find me on instagram.

old bow leg

Well, as you can see I found a home in Wyoming. A place that is enough to possibly persuade me to stop running one day. If Wyoming were an ocean I would spend my life trying to drink it, whether the salt would burn and poison me would be trivial. Though even New England where the sea was close — I found myself missing the sea because it was so cramp and full of tourists. It was never like those cold nights alone on Sand Bay beach. Thousands of miles from me now and years of memories past.
Here there is no ocean or tall ships, there is only waves and waves of empty prairie. And for now I shall have to get my oceanic fix when I fly home to Denmark or you know.. if I ever get lucky enough to take a holiday to Saint Vincent where the sea is blue and the sand is whiter than I am.

I could never choose what I loved most or what I wanted to do. And so I told the world to go fuck itself.
I’ll do it all.
And I have.

I’ve sailed with pirates and commodores. Ive ridden horses on the Texas front and I’ve been the clown I was born to be. These days I find myself in a strange state of mind. A happiness wrapped in dark melancholy that is oddly comforting.
I have a job that pays me and will fund every dream from now. I have the west and I find my dreams coming true even weekly. But when you are a part of so many things that make your heart pump a million, there is always something missing.
Today is not a day that I will sail. Nor is tomorrow. But there will be a day when I see the sea and we’ll kiss like we always do.

I don’t know what kind of believer I am, but I know things do happen. And one thing that happened most recently, something that shook me to my core, was that I met a horse.. a horse that captured me like a sail from a mast holding the wind. An old man whom I call Old Bowleg. Im sure local photographers have an actual name for him, but I gave him this one.
A majestic horse that has seen war with half his ear chewed from its cartilage and a leg bent all out of shape. Yet still he stands as tall as the trees at the bottom of a valley. Still he knows the favorable wind and it flows through his mane. If there was a god — he walks this earth with a bowleg. Now that is something I can believe in.
He was a painting. He was an old chieftain without his tribe. I believe that he had been run off from his mares by a younger suitor. So out there on top of the mountain I found him. Between the reeds and the straw. This beautiful animal, stronger than any man I’ve ever seen, and his faith never wavered in all his years regardless of the fact that his leg struggled beneath him. It didn’t matter because he could fly.


If I had had the time to sit and talk with him a while I would have, but alas it was not be this time. If he Is still alive when the summer comes I shall look for him and maybe I am destined to look for him for an eternity. If that is the way, so be it. But how grateful I am to have seen him even for a moment, it seemed but a second. He was what I always dreamed a true American mustang must be. What America was and can be again. Thats unfair. America is a wonderful place, but the politics — the never fucking ending political bullshit is nonsense. And so I don’t think about it. I think about what I see and what I feel.

And that horse, that day — he took something from me and since I saw him I haven’t been able to stop feeling like I wanted to run back. I don’t relate to people. Thats not my business. Animals, its always the animals. They have me in a vice. Bowleg gave me something… a vision. I will remember him as my spirit horse — the one who taught me that though I have been pained and wounded it doesn’t have to stop me. It doesn’t have to define me. As long as I remember.
Remember. Remember. Remember.
To as true to you as you can be.
It doesn’t matter what Agatha did or what Johnson said. Riley can go fuck himself. What matters today and tomorrow is what you are.

No one can take that from me. And no one can take it from you.
Wopila!