It Happened

Sorry, this post is going to jump about all over the place, because it is basically a mish mash of everything that has been plaguing my head these past few days. The contents have been filtered through my close confidants, and through my personal diary and now the remains are here. In a nutshell, Pie has been put up for sale, and now I feel like Joe in Black Beauty...


I'm trying to make light of it (I mean what are the chances of all of this happening after I expressed my desire to buy Pie "in two years") but really I am heartbroken. I thought I had everything all planned out. I'd take lessons, save up a good little nest egg and then offer to buy Pie. That rug was very abruptly pulled out from under my feet. She has been listed for £2500. I'm not rich. Plus, I don't have the first clue about raising a foal. Argh.


The book I am currently reading (yes, this is related) is The Master and Margarita, and there is a little dialogue near the beginning of the story about how little control we have over our lives. It really stuck with me when I was reading it, and obviously now I have been going over it again. It is all very true.

“– But here is a question that is troubling me: if there is no God, then, one may ask, who governs human life and, in general, the whole order of things on earth?
– Man governs it himself, – Homeless angrily hastened to reply to this admittedly none-too-clear question.
– Pardon me, – the stranger responded gently, – but in order to govern, one needs, after all, to have a precise plan for a certain, at least somewhat decent, length of time. Allow me to ask you, then, how can man govern, if he is not only deprived of the opportunity of making a plan for at least some ridiculously short period, well, say, a thousand years , but cannot even vouch for his own tomorrow? And in fact, – here the stranger turned to Berlioz, – imagine that you, for instance, start governing, giving orders to others and yourself, generally, so to speak, acquire a taste for it, and suddenly you get ...hem ... hem ... lung cancer ... – here the foreigner smiled sweetly, and if the thought of lung cancer gave him pleasure — yes, cancer — narrowing his eyes like a cat, he repeated the sonorous word —and so your governing is over! You are no longer interested in anyone’s fate but your own. Your family starts lying to you. Feeling that something is wrong, you rush to learned doctors, then to quacks, and sometimes to fortune-tellers as well. Like the first, so the second and third are completely senseless, as you understand. And it all ends tragically: a man who still recently thought he was governing something, suddenly winds up lying motionless in a wooden box, and the people around him, seeing that the man lying there is no longer good for anything, burn him in an oven. And sometimes it’s worse still: the man has just decided to go to Kislovodsk – here the foreigner squinted at Berlioz – a trifling matter, it seems, but even this he cannot accomplish, because suddenly, no one knows why, he slips and falls under a tram-car! Are you going to say it was he who governed himself that way? Would it not be more correct to think that he was governed by someone else entirely?”- The Master and Margarita
Maybe I will forget all about Pie. Maybe this time next year I will be head over heels in love with another horse. I am a firm believer that everything happens for a reason, but I'm still devastated. I was in two minds about whether or not to actually post this, but I guess I will. Sorry it's a bit doom and gloom.

Kezia
xxx
Share

No comments:

Post a Comment

FOLLOW

Instagram

Powered by Blogger.

Polyvore