Freedom is the main goal of any tried and true cowboy. It’s the reason they risk so much, stepping so far away from the easier paths that other roads might have offered. Freedom to be exactly who they want to be, to be bound only to the land, the animals, and the cowboy code. There is nobility in that – some danger too – for a cowboy to choose the cowboy’s life requires a certain sacrifice of comforts that most people aren’t willing to give up. But the reward… ahh, the reward… can you even begin to put a price tag on the reward of freedom?
Oh, give me land, lots of land under starry skies above
Don’t fence me in
Let me ride through the wide open country that I love
Don’t fence me in
Let me be by myself in the evenin’ breeze
Listen to the murmur of the cottonwood trees
Send me off forever but I ask you please
Don’t fence me in
Are there ways to operate within this quest for freedom that allow for interpersonal relationships, and maybe even romance? Of course there are – and perhaps I’ve been too broad in the strokes that I’ve used to paint this fall of the cowboy. The core of the cowboy essence, however, remains the same – and one of the main tenets of that is independence and solitude, standing alone and riding off into the sunset and being completely ok with making your way on your own. Most of the time all a cowboy needs is a horse and a horizon.
Just turn me loose, let me straddle my old saddle
Underneath the western skies
On my cayuse, let me wander over yonder
Till I see the mountains rise
I want to ride to the ridge where the west commences
Gaze at the moon till I lose my senses
Can’t look at hobbles and I can’t stand fences
Don’t fence me in
That loose sense of belonging to someone or something, of being bound and tied to another person or place, chafes at the cowboy’s sense of freedom. They erect fences for livestock; they would sooner die than be fenced in themselves. Watch as they gallop off into the distance – watch when they are given an open expanse and an afternoon off: they are movement and freedom and exultation in one.
Just turn me loose, let me straddle my old saddle
Underneath the western skies
On my cayuse, let me wander over yonder
Till I see the mountains rise
It is a glorious thing to see, the way a cowboy revels in their freedom – and the beauty is often in what we do not see, in the price it exacts, the shortened life it leaves after years of harder living. Who’s to say it’s not the way life should be? Why are we preserving ourselves with restrictions and diets and healthy living when thrilling at the pleasures at hand is so easy and feels so good? Why live a longer but unhappy life when you can have an ecstatic shorter one? Maybe this is one reason the cowboys are so often so Zen-like: they have this all figured out.
I want to ride to the ridge where the west commences
Gaze at the moon till I lose my senses
Can’t look at hobbles and I can’t stand fences
Don’t fence me in
