Our equines love to roll, their backs wiggling hard against the ground. It is a ritualistic art form: Nose down, circle, buckle knees, drop, twist on back, sweep dirt-angel arc with side of head, grunt, fold long legs and flinty hooves into a belly tuck, rest on shoulder sphinx-like.
Intermission: Snort, sigh, shake head, look around, ponder another roll.
Completion: Unfold and extend one front leg, rub nose against knee, unfold other long leg, rise tent-like in awkward giraffe style. Full body shake.
Rolling, galloping, grazing — the equine brain and spinal column are horizontal in relation to Earth.
Chief, our mule, is master of mud rolls. The mustangs, Geronimo and Traveler prefer softer dirt that leaves a powdery trace on their velveteen coats. Watching them roll, I remember childhood summers lolling on my back for long hours in rough grass, my sweaty salt-encrusted skin fusing with the odor of pungent resin oozing from the puzzle-patterned bark of eucalyptus trees, their towering structures crackling in the dry heat. Lying horizontal, my spine cradled in Earth home base, I could merge with the life forms around me; supernatural elfin abilities come easier when young and free.
Lucky knows all about lolling
As a vertical bipedal, my childhood days of horizontal lolling are greatly diminished. But whether vertically or horizontally configured, the larger brain ball tapers into a spinal cord of brain nerve fibers wrapped in interlocking lego-like vertebrae. Nerves exit via strategic portals to receive and send vital information: loll = rough grass, smell = pungent resin, listen = crackling trees. This elegant web of electrical impulses emanates an egg-shaped magnetic field that holds the unique energetic signature of every creature in the quantum field. Increasingly scientists are understanding the cranial brain ball may not be the central in command, but rather the gut and heart supersede; supporting the whole body egg-shaped aura theory.
Chief, Geronimo, and Traveler all have a direct million dollar view of Earth via their parallel-to-the-horizon arrangement of hugging close to Earth.This configuration receives pure unadulterated information from the landmass of our planet. Their life energy wraps Earth’s curvature in a prone embrace, whereas we shoot up like a skyscraper, our vestigial tail bone the only bit of brain that has a direct view of home base. I have overheard the equines snickering over this fact.
A horizontal brain structure is earthy, instinctual and brilliantly adaptive to receive signals from our planet. Chief rolls, grunting in ecstatic delight, rubbing his eyes and nostrils vigorously upon prickly sage and rocks to ensure dirt is embedded into the mucous membranes of all the orifices in his head; earthy residue reassures him.
He has heard the inane nursery rhyme: The mule is an animal with dirt on his face…. : and rather than take offense, he endorses his mulish character with stylish aplomb, and shifts the ignorant insult into a compliment. His is an expansive consciousness that knows Earth is our anchor, our home base. Wearing a bit of home on his face is a statement of reverent honor. I’ve seen him come undone in convulsing guffaws at the sight of blue eyeshadow and red lipstick.