The Ego as War Horse

Metaphorical Narrative

In the dim light of a battlefield that never really existed, a horse stamps its hooves. Its flanks are scarred, its eyes restless. Straps and reins cut into its body, even when no rider is in sight. The horse snorts, trained to run into war, to collapse in mud, to carry burdens until breath fails.

And yet, step closer, and you see something strange: the horse is not a horse at all. It is ego, dressed in horse skin, branded by history. The glory, the bondage, the exhaustion — all costumes. Still, the body trembles as though the lash might fall at any second.

The war has ended. The field is empty. Only ego’s shadow keeps the animal restless.

Core Insight

Ego often brands itself as a horse — conscripted for service, fight, and sacrifice. This “war horse” identity drags old meanings into the present: nobility through suffering, worth through burden, honor through collapse. It whispers that pain is necessary for expansion, that exhaustion proves value, that dying for someone else’s banner is glorious.

But the truth is simpler: the ego has borrowed an animal symbol that isn’t real. Without reins, there is no bondage. Without a rider, there is no war. The Observer can see the branding for what it is — a costume stitched from old history. The body’s tremble is memory, not mandate.

Saturday Experiment

1. When you feel burdened, whisper: “This is the war horse costume, not me.”
2. Notice: who is holding the reins right now? If no one is there, drop them.
3. Place a hand on your chest, imagine the straps falling away, and feel the body stand free.

Sunday Reflection

• In third person: He saw the ego dressed as a horse. He realised the war was long over.
• How many times this week did he mistake exhaustion for nobility?
• When he removed the reins, what happened to his breathing and shoulders?
• If he were never branded as a horse, what animal would his body choose to be instead?