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🎧 Listen to the original message from La Jardinera:

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My dear seeds,

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A few days have gone by without any new messages.

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This is because I am finishing off a few little corners, putting the final touches in place, because of course, after the work is done, there is always rubble left behind and everything needs cleaning up. That is what I am doing now, cleaning everything up so that it will be as beautiful as possible for you! For all of you! That's right, because you deserve the very best, the most beautiful, the loveliest, because your Souls are the greatest and most beautiful of all.

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Today's story, like all the others, is very beautiful, and you must learn to read what is not written and listen to what has not been said.

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In a city, as always, a very important one, on its outskirts there was a very large, very large and very important estate too. On this estate there was an equestrian centre where they broke in horses, held horse competitions, show jumping competitions, and also sold the finest specimens.

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There were all kinds of breeds: the English breed. The English horse is beautiful, elegant, refined and spirited, with a brown coat. Then there is one of the finest breeds, the Arabian horse, also of good height, with a good build, strong, slender and very resilient. There is the Scottish horse, which is white, with a very large, very long mane, and long hair on its legs too. It is absolutely beautiful.

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There is another breed from Ireland, which England has taken over, and it is golden in colour. It is so white that when the sun comes out, it looks golden. It is beautiful. Then there is the Norwegian horse, the Scandinavian horse, the Icelandic horse. These are horses that can be white, brown or spotted, but they are strong too. And there is the Danish horse, which is also Viking-like and looks very much like a Dalmatian, with black and white spots. We don't see them here; they are only found over there in their own country.

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There is the Mustang, which you have already heard about, from the United States. And there is also another horse there, whose name I cannot remember right now, but it is brown and beige. It looks as though it is wearing little blankets or coverings in those two colours. These horses are descendants of the horses brought over when the first Spaniards arrived there.

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On their first voyage, the Spaniards took horses with them, and the horses bred there. And then there is the Spanish horse. It is one of the finest horses in the world.

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I will tell you why: because it is the easiest to break in, the quickest to learn, and it has an infinite elegance. Its movements have class, they carry prestige, and nobody can imitate them. They are large, robust and also refined, because there is a mixture. There is the Spanish horse and the Spanish-Arabian horse, and it is the one with those special movements, the steps that dance, the movements they train them to perform.

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Competitions from all over the world take place in Seville. That is where the great equestrian centre of the world is.

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Their colours vary: beige, brown, black and white too.

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And then there is the French horse. The classic French breed is called the Percheron. The Percheron is a very robust horse. It has a strong, powerful hindquarters. Its chest at the front is also strong and robust. It has a very refined, very beautiful head. And it has acrinière, as I don't know what it is called in English, the long hair that hangs down from its neck and head. It has long hair there. Its legs are covered in very long, very thick hair, only on the legs. But its legs are enormous. They are shorter, but robust.

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And this horse is so strong, so incredibly strong, that it has always been used for all kinds of heavy work. This breed came very close to extinction, to disappearing altogether. It nearly became extinct because, during both World Wars, these horses were among the first to go ahead of all the soldiers, carrying the cannons, pulling vehicles, dragging everything, because they are tireless and strong: the Percheron.

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There are also other horse breeds used for racing, and so on and so forth. A very good breed. But this is the classic French one.

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Now, let us come to this estate, because that is what interests us.

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The owner of this estate was very proud of his horses. He had an excellent breed, and his stallion had cost him millions and millions, because a horse can be worth fifty million, a horse can be worth twenty million, and a stallion or a racehorse can reach up to one hundred million. Those are the kinds of horses the Arabs in Arabia, in Saudi Arabia, own. They have them, they buy them, and now you understand why.

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So, this gentleman had some very fine horses. But one day, he saw a wild one, a black horse. It was a marvel, an absolute marvel.

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It was free, running around the estate. There was an enormous mountain, vast meadows, and this horse was attracted to ajument, a mare. There were some extraordinarily beautiful mares there, but they were reserved exclusively for breeding with thoroughbreds, with purebred horses. And of course, when an animal is in heat, every animal follows its instincts, so the horse would approach them.

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When the owner saw him, he said, \"That horse must be mine!\" And he ordered his workers to hunt it down, or rather, to capture it. Not hunt it, but capture it.

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The ranch hands and workers went out with lassos and ropes and began throwing them, but they couldn't manage it. They had seven ropes on him, then twelve ropes, and still they couldn't hold him. He pulled and pulled, dragging them all along with him. Until one day, they finally managed to capture him and took him to the enclosure where the horses are trained, where they are broken in so that people can ride them, put saddles on them, and so on.

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So they locked him in there. It is a circular enclosure; I cannot quite remember what it is called, something like an arena, but that is where it was. A sandy area, you could call it. And there he stood, looking defiantly at everyone. The owner said, \"I want the best horse trainer to ride him, because I want this horse to be mine.\"

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They called the best horse trainer. He approached the horse, and the horse raised its front legs. There is a name for that too. He stood up on his hind legs, facing the trainer, and the trainer said, \"Well, I'll give it a try.\"

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He tried and tried. The horse threw him off several times, and he couldn't do it. Finally, he said, \"I'm sorry, but I won't be able to.\"

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They called in others. Trainers came from every country, they came from everywhere. They couldn't do it. They simply couldn't.

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Well, his son, who was young, said to him, \"Father, let me ride him.\"

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\"Be quiet, be quiet, you fool! If the best trainers and the greatest horse experts cannot do it, he will kill you!\"

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\"Father, let me. Let me try. If I can't do it, I won't touch him again, and I won't go near him again.\"

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\"No, no, no!\"

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\"Father, please, let me.\"

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\"No.\"

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\"Father, I am asking you, please, let me. I want to. Let me, I am going to approach him.\"

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\"I am warning you, he will break a rib, he will break a leg, he will kill you.\"

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\"Let me.\"

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\"All right, but you have been warned.\"

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The young man began to approach the horse. As he came closer, the horse started backing away.

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The horse was already warning him not to come any closer. Suddenly, it reared up and showed him its teeth.

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The young man looked at him and suddenly stopped. He said, \"I understand you very well. I know. Don't worry, I am not going to hurt you. Don't worry.\"

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Then the young man began to walk around, making a circle. The horse, which did not trust him, began circling behind him too, and suddenly they found themselves face to face.

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And as they stood face to face, the horse looked at him, and he said, \"Now you can see me, and I can see you too. I only want to stroke you and tell you how beautiful you are. Fight for your freedom, be free. But man is not your enemy; he is your companion, nothing more.\"

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The horse looked at him out of the corner of its eye and suddenly moved its head.

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The young man approached. The horse took a step backwards. He came a little closer and stopped. And little by little, very calmly, when he finally reached him, he gently stroked his head. The horse moved it slightly. He continued stroking him, and by the time the horse realised what was happening, the young man was already sitting on hiscroupe, on his back.

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He was up there, and gently held on to the hair... It is called the mane in French,crinière.

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He held on to the hair that hangs down around his hindquarters and neck, and with his heels, both heels, he gently pressed against his flanks, one on each side, and the horse began to walk.

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He began guiding him. They went straight ahead, then turned around, and after going around two or three times, the young man got down, stroked him and said:

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\"Father, now you can put the saddle on him, but first offer him some water and food. If he accepts, that's fine. If he doesn't, saddle him and then let him decide.\"

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The father was crying, and everyone else stood there with their mouths wide open. They asked him, \"What did you do? What did you give him?\"

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He said, \"As you can understand, I had nothing in my hands. And what could I possibly have said to him?\"

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Then he continued, \"But there is something you did not see. The horse was standing in front of the sun. It was midday, and the sun was at its highest. And you know very well that when a man stands in front of the sun, his shadow grows.

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And the horse, seeing the man's shadow multiplied six times, because a horse's eyesight makes everything appear much larger than it does to us, sees everything bigger. That is why it is socraintif, so easily frightened, so sensitive. It is afraid because it sees things much larger than they really are.

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So, it was seeing the man's shadow and perceived it as a threat. I realised this, and I changed direction. With the sun behind me, I had the sun in front of me, so the horse could not see my shadow. And because it could not see my shadow, it allowed me to approach. And that is what you have just witnessed.\"

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Looking is so simple. Being observant, learning and analysing, because there is always a reason behind things.

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We always want to know, but we do not ask. We always want everything, but we do not know what for. We always want to satisfy that greed we humans have. We are greedy by instinct, and that greed, as the old saying goes, bursts the sack. No, that greed makes us more ignorant, because it is so simple to ask in order to learn. That young man understood this.

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And if he understood it, it was because he had learned. Because he had asked questions. It is so simple: learning is wisdom, asking questions is knowledge. All those who do not do so will remain in ignorance.

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And that is what made the father cry: the realisation that he had a very intelligent son, who wanted to learn and one day be able to take his place, while he himself had been refusing to let him.

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So, let us keep this wonderful story of the horse and the young man in our hearts, with his gentleness, his love, his temperance, his calmness and, above all, his perseverance, because he insisted so much, and that is what brought him success. And that is what you must have too: success.

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With all my love,

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La Jardinera

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