The timeless connection with horse

“Things draw on as destiny wills.”
– Njal’s Saga

For centuries, horses have played a pivotal role in our lives. People have depended on horses for transportation, chores, and even during warfare. In modern times, the therapeutic benefits of horses come to the forefront, and our equine friends have stepped into the role of healers. The horse can be your teacher, companion, and friend.

My journey with horses began at a tender age, and it has been a profound and personal connection that has shaped my life. My mother was the first to introduce me to horseback riding at a small stable in upstate New York. I developed a fondness for a chocolate brown horse named Banjo. Every trip upstate included a stable visit so I could ride Banjo, and it didn’t take long for us to get in sync.

I will never forget the first time Banjo and I took off in a run, blazing our path away from the rest of the riders. As a young girl, I was fearless, filled with joy and wonder as we galloped down the trail, the afternoon sun filtering through the trees. Our shared joy lingered when we stopped to wait for the other riders. We had a trusting bond, and I sensed Banjo enjoyed my company as much as I did his. Banjo had become my friend, and I believe he understood that relationship.

Over time, Banjo, an already-aged horse, grew ill and died. This devastated me, and I soon learned the inevitability of death, for a few years later, my mother grew sick and followed his fate.

My relationship with horses and nature was lost for many years as I succumbed to New York City’s mounting pressures, as many who live and work there do. The art of mindfulness became a myth, as did joy and authenticity. Like others, I became enslaved to other people’s dogma, working many hours in a field unrelated to my passion. Life became unnecessarily complicated, and I lost myself.
Then I discovered Iceland, and this all changed. I began spending time on things I felt passionate about: writing, photography, and nature. Soon, I was on the path to redefining the terms of my life. I discovered the joys of yoga, being outdoors again, and the freedom to live authentically.

This process required tremendous courage, which I sometimes lack. I often sat outside staring at the night sky, asking the universe my purpose. Why am I here? How can I be more authentic to myself?

Little did I know a chocolate brown horse named Johnny was waiting to answer this.

My travels to Iceland began in 2021 as I longed to see the places my writings were based on. It soon became much more than that. More than capturing images of waterfalls during the midnight sun. Iceland was my destiny, holding the key that blazed my path to self-discovery.

The island’s unspoiled nature and lively weather patterns brought me back to myself—and I developed a strange connection with the land that moved me beyond words. I often say it is not what I see when I visit Iceland that matters; it is what I feel, which has no explanation. I call it magic.

I will never forget my first hike across the emerald-green pastures above Skógar and catching the first glimpse of the glacier sparkling in the sunlight. The glacier’s presence overwhelmed me so much that it brought me to my knees. Witnessing my first volcanic eruption in 2021 was so awe-inspiring that I watched for hours. Experiencing the ferocity of the Icelandic wind humbled me like nothing else ever has.

Mother Nature rules Iceland, a trait that has changed little since this island was settled. Arrogance will not survive in the land of fire and ice, so harmony with the elements is crucial to thriving here.
Like her inhabitants, I had to accept this, even learning to find joy inside a rental cottage on a dark, cold evening. Iceland’s rugged landscapes are otherworldly and unforgiving, and there is no more faithful symbol of tenacity to this than the Icelandic horse.

A true free spirit, the Icelandic horse is an icon. Brought to Iceland from Norway over one thousand years ago, the Icelandic horse has adapted to the rough terrain and harsh weather patterns to become a symbol of resilience, much like Icelanders. If you mention the Icelandic horse to a horse lover, their face lights up.

I had traveled to Iceland six times in three years and still hadn’t ridden an Icelandic horse. My social feeds were filled with images of people riding across majestic black sand beaches or vast lava fields. It looked so appealing, yet I hesitated to join them.

Why did I feel nothing about these establishments? Because I knew I had to feel something. I had to choose the experience that I would connect to. I needed to find the one to bring me back to Banjo, my mother, and myself. I didn’t just want to ride the horse; I wanted to connect with the spirit of the horse much like I had connected with the spirit of the land. During my last visit, I did just that.

His name was Johnny, and he stole my heart like the Icelandic wind.

“What we seek is seeking us”
– Rumi

Before I tell the rest of this story, I must explain my state of mind. Finding myself again was no easy process. Many questions arose, and I faced many difficult, big life decisions that I lacked the courage to make. As my travels to Iceland became more frequent, more answers arrived —no less scary than the questions themselves. Ask anyone who has made a significant life change, and they have most likely faced trepidations and uncertainty. When I arrived in the spring of 2024, I was anxious, scatterbrained, and lacking focus.

Then, in February, I discovered Mr. Iceland through an Instagram post and immediately felt the connection I had sought. I had not ridden the Icelandic horse yet because I was meant to do it here. Mr. Iceland was precisely what I was seeking. I wanted to connect with the horse and the land, so I booked a stay and a ride toward the end of my trip. The owner of Mr. Iceland is Hordur Bender, a nature enthusiast and horse whisperer whose passion for sustainable living and helping others connect with this mindset is apparent in his ways.

On the day of my ride, Hordur greeted me warmly outside of the barn. I explained that I was nervous, which was to be expected for someone who hadn’t been on a horse in twenty years.

Hordur spent time explaining what to expect and the nature of the horse. His patience put me at ease. It was time to choose my steed.

When I entered the barn, I was greeted by a chocolate brown horse named Johnny, who became instantly intrigued by me. The feeling was mutual, so he became my horse for the day. Johnny had chosen me before I even had the chance to think!

It was ready to mount after some time brushing and walking my horse. I was surprised at how at ease I felt when I did. As I sat atop the horse, reins in my hands, looking out toward vast farmland, I was no longer the uncertain person who had arrived but the young girl riding confidently into the wind with Banjo. I was still nervous, but the joy of returning to horseback overtook my fears. It was as if the horse was the fountain of youth, reconnecting me to everything that matters: joy, mindfulness, being present, and myself.

The sun was bright, blue skies were ahead, and a slight breeze made me grateful for the wool cloak Hordur had given me to wear. We traveled on a narrow path that wound through a vast field. A river snaked through the field beside us. In the distance, the Eyjafjallajökull glacier sparkled like a diamond between its surrounding mountain peaks.

This was the land of Njal’s saga, which thrilled me. As a lover of the Icelandic sagas, I draw on these stories to inspire my writings. My imagination ran wild with scenes from the saga, like when Flosi and his men ride through the night to reach Njal’s home to deliver his horrible fate. You can almost hear the galloping as these epic stories haunt these landscapes forever with their passion and bloodshed. What a scene they must have been!

At first, it was difficult to let go and relax in the moment. But Johnny was so in tune with me that I returned to myself every moment of the ride. Hordur had taught me to focus on myself, and Johnny was there to remind me of this. Was I tense? Was I relaxed? Was I breathing? Was I present? Johnny knew everything I felt. In many ways, he knew me better than I knew myself.

The ride demanded that I be present with the horse. This was refreshing in a world where mindfulness is a lost art.

Mindfulness is the key to joy. When we immerse ourselves in an experience, we savor its every gift: the sun on my face, the wind across my skin, the body of the horse beneath me, the sound of his hooves, or the sweet song of the lóa as she sang. The ride was a feat of alchemy, transporting me to the purest form of myself, unspoiled by unnecessary distractions, into a state of mind I craved.

Every moment and every breath were gifts, and Johnny was there to remind me to savor every single one. Our unspoken communication echoed what I had with Banjo: the bond that forms between horse and rider when you open your heart.

Now it was time to speed up. One of the unique things about the Icelandic horse is its gait, known as “tolting.” This is very different from Western riding, and it was a bit unnerving at first, but eventually, I relaxed enough to feel secure going faster.

As I rode, my mother came to mind. These were not sad or distracting thoughts but fleeting whispers of her memory. I’d like to believe she was there with us.

Near the end of the ride, we crossed the river again. It was beautiful. The sun reflected off its surface, rendering the water a rich golden hue. Orange-billed oyster catchers waded at its shore, and birdsong filled the air. At this point, I was relaxed, connected with Johnny, and immersed in the experience.

I will never forget Hordur’s words, “Look at all this beauty. People ask me if I ever get tired of this. How could I?”

I agreed with him. Like the day I had hiked above Skógar, that moment may appear simple, but when fully aware, simple can be richer than anything.

One of my best memories in Iceland was lying in a field of grasses beside a stream, feeling the earth beneath me. There was no camera, phone, or distractions, just me and the connection to nature. Now, I experienced this through the spirit of the horse.

Although the ride ended, a new journey had just begun. A friendship formed between me and a chocolate brown horse named Johnny, which gave me the greatest gift one could receive: the art of mindfulness and the return to my true self.

This ride did not tick off the “I rode an Icelandic horse” box, but it provided the answers to the questions I had asked many times over again: What is my purpose? Why am I here? The answer was simple. Sometimes, the purpose was just to be. As they say, it’s not the destination but the journey itself. This was all the answer I needed.

That evening, above my cabin on Hordur’s farm, I witnessed the most powerful Aurora display I had ever seen. There was no question in my mind that this entire experience was destiny. In Iceland, the word Tillhera means “a belonging.” I felt this while riding an Icelandic horse through the land. Confirmed by the green lady in the sky, I knew I belonged to this moment.

This day, I had felt this connection with everything around and below me: the horse, the Aurora, the wind, the sunlight, and the whispers of the past. For this moment, I belonged to Iceland, the horse, and the spirit between them.

So, if someone asks me what riding an Icelandic horse is like, I will tell them it is like Iceland itself; it is magical. You may lead the horse, but the horse will teach you. Be prepared to find yourself.

You can book this magical experience with Mr. Iceland and experience this beautiful connection with your horse here.

by Arielle Lokadóttir