“Keep your secret gardens and your fantasy worlds. Write things on paper every so often. Be curious about the net you live in — digital literacy is our best chance at true freedom. Meet face to face, without your phones every so often. Make your offline time valuable. Read old books. Love things without shame and take time to consider who you are away from all the things in the world trying to tell you who to be.”
“When I was young my mother gave me her favorite books to read.
For every page of light, there was another written in shadows.”
-— Gregory Orr, from “Some Notes on Shadows,” from The Caged Owl: New & Selected Poems (Copper Canyon Press, 2002)
“When we must deal with problems, we instinctively resist trying the way that leads through obscurity and darkness. We wish to hear only of unequivocal results, and completely forget that these results can only be brought about when we have ventured into and emerged again from the darkness. But to penetrate the darkness we must summon all the powers of enlightenment that consciousness can offer.” — Jung
“The range of what we think and do
is limited by what we fail to notice.
And because we fail to notice
that we fail to notice
there is little we can do
until we notice
how failing to notice
shapes our thoughts and deeds.”
“Where love rules, there is no will to power; and where power predominates, there love is lacking. The one is the shadow of the other.” — Carl Gustav Jung
“I don’t need a friend who changes when I change and who nods when I nod; my shadow does that much better.” — Plutarch
“The brighter love’s radiance, the darker the shadows we encounter; the more we feel life stirring within us, the more we also feel our dead spots; the more conscious we become, the more clearly we see where we remain unconscious. None of this need dishearten us. For in facing our darkness, we bring to light forgotten parts of our being. In recognizing exactly where we have been unconscious, we become more conscious. And in seeing and feeling the ways we’ve gone dead, we start to revive and kindle our desire to live more expansively.”
— John Welwood
“Part of every misery is, so to speak, the misery’s shadow or reflection: the fact that you don’t merely suffer but have to keep on thinking about the fact that you suffer. I not only live each endless day in grief, but live each day thinking about living each day in grief.”
— C.S. Lewis
“Where there is much light, the shadow is deep” — Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
“Things need not have happened to be true. Tales and adventures are the shadow truths that will endure when mere facts are dust and ashes and forgotten” — Neil Gaiman
“Between the conception
and the creation
between the emotion
and the response
Falls the shadow”
— Joseph Conrad
“With consistency a great soul has simply nothing to do. He may as well concern himself with his shadow on the wall.” — Ralph Waldo Emerson
“Filling the conscious mind with ideal conceptions is a characteristic of Western theosophy, but not the confrontation with the shadow and the world of darkness. One does not become enlightened by imagining figures of light, but by making the darkness conscious.” — Jung
No matter how fast you run, your shadow keeps up.
Sometimes it’s in front!
Only full overhead sun diminishes your shadow.
But that shadow has been serving you.
What hurts you, blesses you.
Darkness is your candle.
Your boundaries are your quest.
I could explain this,
but it will break the glass cover on your heart,
and there’s no fixing that.
You must have shadow and light source both.
Listen, and lay your head under the tree of awe.
When from that tree feathers and wings sprout on you,
be quieter than a dove.
Don’t even open your mouth for even a coo.
“Some periods of our growth are so confusing that we don’t even recognize that growth is happening. We may feel hostile or angry or weepy and hysterical, or we may feel depressed. It would never occur to us, unless we stumbled on a book or a person who explained to us, that we were in fact in the process of change, of actually becoming larger, spiritually, than we were before. Whenever we grow, we tend to feel it, as a young seed must feel the weight and inertia of the earth as it seeks to break out of its shell on its way to becoming a plant. Often the feeling is anything but pleasant. But what is most unpleasant is the not knowing what is happening. Those long periods when something inside ourselves seems to be waiting, holding its breath, unsure about what the next step should be, eventually become the periods we wait for, for it is in those periods that we realize that we are being prepared for the next phase of our life and that, in all probability, a new level of the personality is about to be revealed.”
— Alice Walker (Living By The Word)
I have been in love more times than one,
thank the Lord. Sometimes it was lasting
whether active or not. Sometimes
it was all but ephemeral, maybe only
an afternoon, but not less real for that.
They stay in my mind, these beautiful people,
or anyway beautiful people to me, of which
there are so many. You, and you, and you,
whom I had the fortune to meet, or maybe
missed. Love, love, love, it was the
core of my life, from which, of course, comes
the word for the heart. And, oh, have I mentioned
that some of them were men and some were women
and some – now carry my revelation with you –
were trees. Or places. Or music flying above
the names of their makers. Or clouds, or the sun
which was the first, and the best, the most
loyal for certain, who looked so faithfully into
my eyes, every morning. So I imagine
such love of the world – its fervency, its shining, its
innocence and hunger to give of itself – I imagine
this is how it began.
– Mary Oliver
“Often, change doesn’t come trumpeting itself in. It comes in quiet, barely noticed ways. No bolts of lightning and grand entrances here. Just a subtle relaxation into the body. A tiny shift towards where you are. An old belief, an outdated story, seen for what it is. A new path emerging in the darkness. A vague, unspeakable hope dawning in the first light of the day you imagined would never come. Everything the same, everything different, everything always resting in motion, and the mysteries of change forever unresolved.”
– Jeff Foster
UPDATE: There is a snowman movie coming out! They are looking for film and photos of snowman if you have any available! Please contact Pam directly and not me. Thanks!
Docutainment Films is seeking content for the upcoming documentary on Snowman & Harry de Leyer.
If you have film/photos/articles about any of the topics below, please contact Pam Aguilar at email email@example.com.
• Harry de Leyer & The deLeyer Family
• 1950s jumper champions: Andante, Sonora, McLain Street, Australis, Windsor Castle, Sinjon
• National Horse Shows between 1955—1965
• Riders: David Kelley, George Morris, Bobby Burke
• Dutch Crown late 70s
• Horse Shows between 1955—1965
• Jumper classes between 1955—1965
This is a post from April 2006 that I’m reposting, since I was just contacted by Elizabeth Letts who is writing a new book about Snowman! Elizabeth writes:
I am so pleased and excited to see all of these posts about Snowman and Harry de Leyer.
I am currently working on a new full-length book about Snowman and Harry– it is such an inspirational story that I hope a whole new generation will learn about this wonderful tale. The book is currently titled THE CINDERELLA HORSE and it is coming from Random House in 2011. It is a love affair with Snowman, with horse stories, and with the wonderful world of show jumping in the 1950s and the old National Horse Show at Madison Square Garden…
I would LOVE to hear from anyone who has personal memories of Snowman, including anyone who remembers watching him compete.
Please contact me at ElizabethLetts@gmail.com
Please contact Elizabeth if you can share any information about Snowman or Harry!!
For one of those days when lately I’ve felt like an old nag myself…
The abundant life is within our reach if only we will drink deeply of living water, fill our hearts with love, and create of our lives a masterpiece.
Harry de Leyer was late to the auction on that snowy day in 1956, and all of the good horses had already been sold. The few that remained were old and spent and had been bought by a company that would salvage them.
Harry, the riding master at a girls’ school in New York, was about to leave when one of these horses—an uncared-for, gray gelding with ugly-looking wounds on its legs—caught his eye. The animal still bore the marks that had been made by a heavy work harness, evidence to the hard life he had led. But something about him captured Harry’s attention, so he offered $80 for him.
It was snowing when Harry’s children saw the horse for the first time, and because of the coat of snow on the horse’s back, the children named him “Snowman.”
Harry took good care of the horse, which turned out to be a gentle and reliable friend—a horse the girls liked to ride because he was steady and didn’t startle like some of the others. In fact, Snowman made such rapid improvement that a neighbor purchased him for twice what Harry had originally paid.
But Snowman kept disappearing from the neighbor’s pasture—sometimes ending up in adjoining potato fields, other times back at Harry’s. It appeared that the horse must have jumped over the fences between the properties, but that seemed impossible—Harry had never seen Snowman jump over anything much higher than a fallen log.
But eventually, the neighbor’s patience came to an end, and he insisted Harry take back the horse.
For years, Harry’s great dream had been to produce a champion jumping horse. He’d had moderate success in the past, but in order to compete at the highest levels, he knew he would have to buy a pedigreed horse that had been specifically bred to jump. And that kind of pedigree would cost far more than he could afford.
Snowman was already getting old—he was eight when Harry had purchased him—and he had been badly treated. But, apparently, Snowman wanted to jump, so Harry decided to see what the horse could do.
What Harry saw made him think that maybe his horse had a chance to compete.
In 1958, Harry entered Snowman in his first competition. Snowman stood among the beautifully bred, champion horses, looking very much out of place. Other horse breeders called Snowman a “flea-bitten gray.”
But a wonderful, unbelievable thing happened that day.
Harry continued to enter Snowman in other competitions, and Snowman continued to win.
Audiences cheered every time Snowman won an event. He became a symbol of how extraordinary an ordinary horse could be. He appeared on television. Stories and books were written about him.
As Snowman continued to win, one buyer offered $100,000 for the old plow horse, but Harry would not sell. In 1958 and 1959, Snowman was named “Horse of the Year.” Eventually, the gray gelding—who had once been marked for sale to a low bidder—was inducted into the show jumping Hall of Fame.
— Rutherford George Montgomery, Snowman (1962)
For many, Snowman was much more than a horse. He became an example of the hidden, untapped potential that lies within each of us.
We will have gun control in this country. History, demographics, and the accumulated and accumulating evidence that it works elsewhere make it inevitable. The accumulated evidence that our archaic lack of gun control does not work also makes it inevitable. The political pendulum will swing, as it already is swinging, and courts and legislatures inevitably will follow public sentiment. It is only a matter of time and needlessly lost lives. How far that pendulum swings also is a matter of time and needlessly lost lives. Because the worse things get, the more people are massacred, the more people are killed in the less headline-grabbing daily accumulation of gun-related violent abominations, the farther that pendulum will swing. Those who fight against effective gun control will, in the end, have done more to assure the more severity of gun control, when gun control inevitably happens, than all the consistent gun control advocates put together. Because gun control will happen in this country. It will be effective. It will work as it works in every other developed democracy. It is only a matter of time and needlessly lost lives.
Seems like all I post on the blog lately is the sad news.
We are off to Tucson again, this time for my brother-in-law’s funeral. Randy was way too young to go, but actually made it a lot longer than he was expected to be around when he was first diagnosed with leukemia many years ago. He survived leukemia, with a lot of scares along the way. He survived thyroid cancer, too, having his thyroid removed a couple years ago. This time he was not so fortunate, although he fought a good fight, as always. He lost the battle with pneumonia, after suffering a broken hip.
My sister-in-law is holding up well, so far, dealing with all the details and going into that “numb” place for now where we deal with what has to be done. My son was there for them, and wrote a lovely tribute to his uncle:
There were no miracles the day that my uncle passed away. If anything, they had been the previous 15 years, two decades or so when he’d been given 5 to live. Cancer drugs sucked, but they’d offered years more for me to get to know my uncle.
He loved science fiction, he wrote an as yet unpublished children’s novel, he loved antiques. He collected Minox cameras and 8mm Disney films. He was a chemist, who produced kits to excite kids, like me and my brother, about Science. I think a big part of why my brother is getting his degree in the field is because of my uncle.
I only realized as I walked into the hospital that, when I feared that I had not used the years with him very well, that my uncle Randy, and my aunt, had known how to value time spent together all along, after making it through those first 5 years.
I hadn’t even given it much thought. But they knew better. They had treasured the years. The days. The hours, and made sure I did too, even if I didn’t look up every time the clock struck looking for the sword hanging over our time.
Words for me are almost useless when it comes to death, and I take little comfort from them. But there’s no other real way to express the feelings here, the sorrow, the loss, the grief, the understanding that none of us lasts forever. Life is precious, temporary, and remarkable, no matter what life you have. Loved ones will not be around forever, so appreciate them, love them as best you can, and cherish them while they are here. What else is there to say, or to do when we come to an end. We loved those who are gone, and we love those who remain behind.