Anyone who read my column printed last Ash Wednesday knows of my contempt for Carnival. I’m sorry to say that my attitude towards it hasn’t gotten any better.
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A connection that empowered me
As I bent over to pick something up from the ground, I heard a snort and felt a hot, powerful rush of air hit the base of my back with what seemed to be decisive precision. A bolt of electrifying energy shot up my spine, tingling, filling my body with heat and creating goosebumps all over my skin.
Instantly I knew it was more than just “a breath.” It was a fiery zap of life force, injected into me by the being who towered above in that moment, nostrils flared and eyes staring directly into mine while seemingly looking at everything else around us. As I write this, I realise that the point of the hot “zap” is the point over which “Dan the acupuncture man” said a moxa stick (a cigar-shaped, coal-like object with a fiery glowing tip) needed to be held, to warm and move my chi/energy.
I had met my fire-breathing friend almost two months ago. He was standing in an empty lot with another horse, grazing hungrily. Both horses had arrived in Tobago by ferry the night before, destined for the stables in Buccoo where they would experience healing and spa treatments.