Gravity

Gravity... it causes acorns to rain down on unsuspecting victims. It brings leaves floating to the earth like red and yellow snowflakes. It brings the body of a trotting horse to its feet moving in diagonal pairs. It's a stressful season blockbuster starring Sandra Bullock. It draws an enormous amount of fluid from one's runny nose to anything below said nose. And it grounds one flying Instructor in Training who just passed her Registered-level instructor evaluation.

I'm coming home soon.

What I leave Connecticut with is a different perspective of myself and of others.

When I came here, I wanted to let everyone know about where I had been and who I'd been riding with and learning from. Virtually no one cared. You can name drop some pretty great names, but it's still name dropping. So I dropped that idea and just became me, here to learn about therapeutic riding. As the course is wrapping up, a few volunteers have approached me who are followers of Ray Hunt's method. One volunteer even rode with Ray twice. 

It has been nice to find good company in people who are trying to make a difference for another population who could use a bit of help from horses. 

Through the horse you can learn a lot about yourself and when you learn about yourself you can, in turn, look back to the horse. In the last couple of months, I've gotten feedback from horses, volunteers, instructors, students, housemates, new friends, the earth, my husband, and myself.

After all the doubt, fear, and worry, the gravity of this experience is becoming apparent after all. 

Where's my horse?

Seeing improvement...

Since my last post, I passed an exam and officially became an Instructor in Training. I still believe that I can make something of combining my passion for good horsemanship with therapeutic riding; yet I still worry about the hows, whens, and wheres...

My lesson with J.D. this week gave me a glimpse of why. He's the one who gave me a C last week. While I was lowering the lift to get him out of his wheelchair, I learned that he's gone skydiving, twice. We got to share stories about that since I went once upon a time. I was more cautious this week so as to avoid hitting him in the helmet with the lift. He needs to ride around the arena a while before we begin the lesson. His atrophied legs are too spastic to reach for the stirrups when he first gets on. The rhythm of the horse's movement slowly relaxes tightened muscles. When I approached him to help get his feet into the stirrups, I asked him to talk me through it. He said, "You can't hurt me. I can tell you're worried about it." This kid lives in a wheelchair and he's helping me understand how much he wants to be here and how much he can do. So I set up a lesson that allowed him to affect a measurable change with his horse. He became infectiously engaged in the activity. He seemed to really enjoy seeing the changes he could make in his horse using just his body.

After the lesson, I told him I wanted to start writing lesson plans that take into account what he wants to get out of his lessons. I told him to dream as big as he wanted to. His goal: to be able to trot all the way around the arena. Once.

That's a lofty goal for him. Puts things into perspective, doesn't it. I am talking to me. And you.

Travis and I FaceTime regularly and they are bittersweet moments. The other morning, he answered my call with his face still buried in the pillow. I think he was on my side of the bed. He has put the animals on the screen for me from time to time. Drifter's body language tells me that he misses me as much as I miss him. Travis says he acts like Eeyore. No matter. What's good about it?

When I can start to look at what's good about it...every day, every ride, every time, everything...then I will be making some real improvement within myself.

What's good about your life today? What are your goals? Dream big...

C is for balance

Last year, I had a strange dream. I don't normally remember my dreams but this one was quite visual. I was standing on a cliff looking across a ravine to another cliff, with a rope bridge connecting the two sides. On the other side of the ravine, looking back at me was me. For many reasons, I was afraid to cross the bridge. I stood frozen still until I woke.

***

Sunday afternoon, I wanted out of Old Lyme, but had committed to volunteering a few hours at a hunter pace, where I saw, wait for it, a few western saddles.

This wasn't one of them.

As a "western" rider rode past, it was hard to ignore seasawing hands direct-reining a shanked mouthpiece in an attempt to obtain the almighty headset from her horse.

Sigh.

"Someday I want to learn to ride western." Someone commented, admiring the horse's overo markings.

I bit my cheek. People's riding reveals where they're at in life. I've been there. It's hard to watch, but I've been there and no one judged me. They just showed me a different path.

***

By the time we were done with our duties, we only had the afternoon to explore, so we decided on the nearby town of Mystic, CT, the home of Mystic Pizza...

Movie tourist Pizza Heaven

and a drawbridge (bascule bridge) that spans the Mystic River.

Marveled by "simple" engineering. 

Enormous concrete filled counterweights intimidate the roadbed of the southwest side of U.S. Route 1 (Main Street). Nearly 600 tons of road is counterbalanced when the bridge is raised.

***

I had my first lesson on Monday, and was evaluated while teaching. Oh boy, was it hard to walk into the arena and look past the obstacles (staff, clipboards, riders, horses, handlers, sidewalkers) in order to focus on teaching a measurable skill to riders who might rather be taught by their regular instructor.

It wasn't a complete disaster, but it wasn't a cake walk either. The mounts were all full-assist, including one—we'll call him JD—who needed to use a lift. Three instructors and a sidewalker all had input on whether or not JD was aligned properly above the saddle, as he hung suspended over his horse's back. I had the controls of the lift and, with input coming from all directions, I lost concentration of the location of the lift as I lowered JD onto the horse, knocking him in the helmet with the top of the rigging. Ooops. Thankfully, he was forgiving about it. My lesson in the arena had varying results (owning one moment, sinking the next) before we headed out on the sensory trail to make turn after turn through the trees. I fumbled a few times, but tried to roll with the punches.

At the end of the lesson, as I was lifting JD from the saddle, his mother asked him how I did for my first lesson.

"Ehhh." He commented.

"Oh, great." I said.

"I give you a C."

That's about what I'd give me, I thought.

"If I gave you an A, you wouldn't have anything to shoot for."

Touché.

***

There was something about the Mystic River Bascule Bridge that reminds me to balance and quit trying to be perfect on the first try. It's one of those things I do but don't realize I'm doing it. When it's brought to my attention, I get defensive.

But just because you are offended doesn't mean you are right.

My fear vs. my ability ended up perfectly balanced in the lesson and—according to JD—was measurable in the middle of the grading scale at C.

I've been seeking more balance. Tonight, a C feels just right.

Phase 1 Done

I am hoping to become a more well-rounded rider.

Since 2006, when I started attending clinics with my mentor and his mentors, it has been my understanding that when you pick up on the reins and make contact with a horse, he should soften...to give to the bit.

This is where things get a bit confusing for a cowgirl in Connecticut. 

I drove in the morning rain last week to ride Sir Robin and wondered what kind of connection I might make with him. I only spent a few minutes on groundwork and got about as much from him as I was putting into it...which wasn't much. 

A short warm up at the walk and a few lateral flexions later, I was long trotting him and working up the energy to pick up the canter. While I normally work in a snaffle, this horse wears something that looks like a triple barrel mullen (anyone with experience with this bit is welcome to comment). I've done a little reading about this bit and it seems to be forgiving with relaxed reins, but a more rigid when the reins are engaged (the barrels actually lock in place) and is supposedly a good bit for horses that are behind the bit. Unfortunately, Sir is above the bit. And it could just be me, but I was trying to err on the side of lightness. As soon as I pick up the reins to make contact, he noses out and braces heavy. Holding and waiting for a tuneup-needing Shire/TB cross to give to the pressure is a good gym workout. I was having much better luck waiting laterally than I had when picking up the reins evenly.  

Initially, I had luck getting him to pick up his right lead with a fairly loose rein, but only got a few strides before he dropped out. He wouldn't pick it up again and I was working really hard with my legs, as I wanted to avoid using the whip that was given to me. It was suggested that I ride him on the bit a little more in order to "support" him. Conundrum. If a horse doesn't soften when rein pressure is applied, how does one get a horse to get on the bit...without force.

I managed to end the ride with the horse making contact through the bit and carrying his head in the desired "frame" that was clearly in spite of me. I was just a passenger who couldn't feel what I am supposed to be feeling for. I want to learn something from this experience but I am not understanding the lesson.

Our lectures have evolved into more practicum hours in the arena to observe lessons and go through files. We got a tiny taste of therapeutic vaulting on a Percheron cross, which is where one of the instructors-in-training (ITCs, they call us) felt right at home. However, a highlight of my trip was driving an off-track standardbred at a fully extended trot through a cone slalom course in a 6-man/wheelchair accessible carriage. He drives in a mild, bitless bridle and without blinders. My cheeks still hurt from smiling. He may not have earned much money on the track but he is priceless here. What a blessing he is for the school. 

Unfortunately I have no pictures from vaulting or driving.

Thursday night, under the glowing light of the full moon, I cat-cowed, downward-dogged, 5-pointed-starred my way to semi-zen oblivion in a late-night poolside yoga session. Holding doubt in cupped palms, I released it to the universe. But gravity pulled it right back down on top of me. Who did I think I was kidding? I knew it wasn't ready to leave.

Rockin' Kickers in Breeches Mecca

"You must be one of the western riders." A horse handler commented, raising her brows as she looked down at my boots.

I smiled.

It's been a long day. Sigh. We are now down to six, as one of the instructors-in-training decided to go back to her ESL studies. She still believes that therapeutic horsemanship is the best form of physical therapy—she's a PT in her country and is passionate about her belief that the horse is the therapy—but she just needed to follow her dreams in a different order.

Her hours will be divvied up between the remaining students, and I am feeling anxious about this tonight. I am having a difficult time trying to find my center in a place of learning, where I am going to be teaching. The few things I have taught to other students and instructors—how to properly use a bosal, how to raise stirrups on a western saddle, how to cinch a girthy horse in a western saddle—have gone over pretty well. But I don't feel like I fit in yet. It's been more than two decades since I owned a pair of breeches. They are the jeans of the Northeast.

This morning I was up before the sun to meet with one of the school's directors. She has an 8 year old TB/Shire cross that needs a tune up. He's pushy and she gave me the freedom to "use a little Buck on him". I told her I could use the equipment she uses, but asked if she, by chance, had a rope halter. I was pleasantly surprised when she retrieved one from the tack room and, although it was a little bit crusty from age and had some dust and cobwebs on it, it was serviceable for me to introduce myself to Sir Robin. I quickly established my boundaries with him, when he indicated that he wanted to tell me how things were going to be done. He ended up quiet enough so we saddled up and I put my Ariats into the stirrups of an all-purpose English saddle and we headed out to a meadow with stonewall boundaries and sheep in the neighboring pasture. I worked on some bending (which was lacking) and softening (where he rooted), but found that he had a lot of try and I wanted to reward his efforts on my first ride. He has a lumbering trot and wasn't too bad in his serpentines. We headed on a short trail ride down to a tidal creek that connected to the Connecticut River. I learned that most of the stone walls that are prevalent in this area were built in the 1700s when landowners were clearing their properties to farm or build. The dew was thick in the grass and the air was crisp with the promise of the coming autumn.

In class today, we covered several physical disabilities and ended up a little off topic a few times because, in learning that vibration is helpful when used properly to relax spastic muscles, we needed to go into a little more into detail for our foreign students who needed an explanation for the word "dildo". It was good comic relief for a day dedicated to learning about some very sad, debilitating disabilities.

I met a girl with Cerebral Palsy tonight as I observed a class I will soon be teaching. She seemed thrilled to meet me...she wears cowboy boots too. She asked me how long I had been riding western and what kind of shows I've done. I provided input on riding two handed in the snaffle bit, but she wants to ride one-handed. It's going to take a bit of convincing her that it's ok to ride two handed, even if you ride western.

All the students in the class seemed great. Most of them rode independently at least some of the time during the class. Despite the great impression they gave me, I am struggling with self-confidence. Some of these students are great riders, they just don't fit into a "traditional" lesson.

I am going to try to get some sleep, despite my scheduling anxieties. 6:15am will be here sooner than I want, but I am looking forward to another morning with Sir Robin, so sweet dreams....

Connecticut Centauro

The group...with Fanny and Buddy

Neko Case's new album plays on my computer and I keep jumping back and forth between it and some of my favorite tunes from Middle Cyclone. 

If I don't update this blog a few of you are going to come out here and write it for me. I need to sleep so I want to hurry, but I know that makes for a less than interesting blog entry.

I force myself to write a word. I keep thinking about what my new Brazilian friend called me last week.

Centauro.

It was on the evening of my birthday.

"Virgo, you mean?" I tried to correct her.

"Virgo, yes. But Centauro." She said as she described her perception of my assessment ride, interlinking her index finger and thumb from each hand, she spoke of a connection she observed that I had with Bella. It's been a dream of mine that my riding would generate inspiration without provocation. I don't feel like I am there yet — maybe I've experienced little pieces for myself — but she caught me off guard with her comments and I felt humbled, regardless.

Last night a few of us went out to the Rustic Cafe to regroup. It was good conversation and a good way to unwind. Quizzes and tests are due just about every week. With fall in the air, those of us closest to the fire-breathing dragon stayed the warmest.

The more I get to know the other instructors-in-training, I get a better idea of why they are are here with me. Each of them are inspiring and have their own struggles. These girls are all striving to make a difference. I am not alone.

Our first week has been chock full of various subjects: volunteer management, anatomy of horses and humans, lesson plan creation. I've had good and bad days. Yesterday and today were relatively good days for me. Tuesday was downright frustrating. I was reminded of the struggles I had in school with losing focus, my wandering mind leaving the present to explore a future that is possibly years away. Reining it back in was a constant battle.

Tonight, my head aches and slight nausea tickles my throat. I worry. A lot. But worry gets shoved away in a hoard under the bed. Monsters can't hide under there. There's no room; they can't fit.

Today and yesterday, hours of lecture was broken up by heading out to the barn to ride. Yesterday, I had the pleasure of riding both Taylor and Buddy.

A much bigger Buddy than one I've ever known...
with as gentle of a heart as the one I used to own

Today, we all got to ride seven different horses in the herd to feel their gaits and experience different types of tack. Geri was by far my favorite. She was sensitive to rein and leg cues and had a lovely gaits that rolled my hips in therapeutic figure-8s. Plus she was wearing a sheepskin fleece with an anticast surcingle. I could ride her all day on that. Some of the horses were difficult to handle, some had jarring gaits. They each have a story. But there is a purpose for each of them and getting to know them will help me when I start teaching here. Of course I want to flock to the sensitive ones, but we've been taught how to match horses to the riders...not only for the riders well-being, but also for the horses.

I still don't know what the outcome is going to be, but at this point I hope to find a way to help people of all abilities to find their inner Centauro.

If you can't be a unicorn, I guess this might be a close second...

Glimpses of Inspiration in Connecticut

Think big when your shadow looks like this...

The transition to Connecticut through the Carolinas—with support from Travis, my family, and friends (and a little unicorn and a tiny elephant)—went smoothly, despite my stomach upset from leaving Travis and the comfort zone I call home. I had a nice visit with my parents, brother, and grandmother; albeit a brief visit. Then, I hit the road at 2am on Tuesday. 

Dad, Russ, and Lady got out of bed to see me out.

Inside, I felt alone and empty...a container ready for filling. Robin Thicke's song on nearly every station (but country) "blurred lines" in the road as I crossed state line to state line, edging my way closer to my destination. I met briefly in Ashland VA for breakfast with Uncle Jim and Aunt Maxine. Cracker Barrel. Of course.

Baltimore tried to road block me but I found an outer loop that re-routed through the Baltimore Harbor Tunnel, and the New Jersey Turnpike went on...for...hours. I waited for someone to drop from the sky after being John Malkovich.

It never happened.

I held my breath as I drove across the George Washington Bridge from New Jersey into New York, looking across at the new Freedom Tower in the hazy sky. All the talk about driving through New York was scarier than actually doing it. It was just a bunch of congested traffic with a view of ashy, dirty brick buildings in the Bronx. I think I paid my last toll here after spending about $50 in tolls alone. No biggie, but get me out of here.

It welcomes...muah?

A couple of hours later, I made it. I was at school. 

I met the other instructors-in-training and we went to the store, then off to the house I am sharing with two others: One from New York, and the other from Israel. Both 21. Both totally sweet.

On the first day, we had a special guest to welcome us to school.

Adorable Smokey

We were all assigned a horse to perform a riding assessment upon. This is the horse that was assigned to me, Bella. I loved her. She was very sensitive and was a joy to ride.

Bella and me

And I have had the opportunity to meet many of the staff who really appear to love what they do. Over the first three days of school, we intensively covered equine anatomy, received brief lessons in sidewalking and leading, learned the feeding schedule, and learned many of the procedures of how things are done in the therapeutic riding world.

I woke up this morning to a birthday unicorn crown from my new Israeli buddy and housemate...

Mazel tov!

I also got two surprise deliveries at school: Starbucks from Rachel (yay!) and flowers from Jason and Lou (beautiful! Unfortunately not what was ordered. I have a feeling someone at ProFlowers got their heads chewed off). My birthday gift this year was being here, but I did miss not being able to spend it with Travis. Luckily, I didn't have to spend my birthday alone. All but one (who lives in a nearby town and had plans with family) of the students came out to dinner with me. This gave me an opportunity to get to know the others a little better. I had a blast.

They are a great group of girls. I wish we were all staying at the same place. Everyone has something incredible to offer. Listening to each one and their varying levels of experience and education is inspiring.

Beginning a new chapter in our lives, both separately and together...

Last Day

As a lifelong migraine sufferer who has had an 18-month-or-so respite, it hit me like a falling piano yesterday. The nausea and hyper-presence of peering through these little windows we call eyes, inspecting each little speck on the toilet, wishing I had cleaned it more recently. I tried to focus on the veiled reflection of myself in the water, observing the highlights and lowlights of my image that otherwise lacked detail. Everything evacuated and made room for the crown of flames and hallucinations. A shadow of myself hovered nearby as I cowered on the cool floor in the dark and simmered at Bephegor's cunning attempt to fan the flames of doubt.

Where have you been? I wondered. Hiding beneath the shield of my left scapula? Waiting for your perfect opportunity to seize my body and render it immobile? Well, you're a day early, f*cker! I get on the plane tomorrow.


A couple of hours later, I was among the living and ready to eat. Travis offered one more Yahtzee Tournament before I left and I wanted to take him up on that.

Please, please, please don't come back today...

Travis left this morning for a local golf tournament (wearing a pink bling belt in my honor) and will be home around 1pm. I went back to bed after feeding breakfast to everyone for the last time in three months. But I want to start this journey with a post.

"Landslide" came on Pandora last night and these lyrics resonated, "I've been afraid of changing 'cause I built my life around you." Yes, I have immense fears. I worry about leaving Travis and the four-legged kids. Travis is my love, my motivator and support. Sweet Jaeger is getting older and loves his mommy. Pichu is my little muse (who inspires me in fits and starts, and waits patiently as I try to see the story). Drifter is my teacher. Montreux and Wilfred are just starting their lives with us, and I worry they won't remember me. And Jake is down the hill with Jamie, and I wish them the best. And then there's Tramp, who, if nothing else, is good for a laugh.

I have two traveling companions that were given as gifts — a Thai elephant from Siri and a magical stuffed unicorn from Peggy and Genelle — and three journals (from Melissa, Henriette, and Mindy).

In the next three months, I have a lot of writing to do.

As for my last ride, on Wednesday, Kathy and I rode on the west side of the ski resorts, up trail 1E01 to Grandview point. I gave Drifter a big awkward, goofy hug up there. I will see you when I get back, buddy.

Yes, I am riding like a "pig farmer"...

Neo, Jack, and my upcoming journey

An update on Neo and Jack...and me. Unfortunately, both horses were too much for their owners to handle.

Neo's owner attended all days of Paul's clinic and absorbed and practiced as much as they could on their more reliable horse. When realizing that their reliable horse needed some work, and it was a chore for them, but far less than they'd be facing with Neo, they began to question if they were doing what was right for him. They talked to Paul and pulled me aside to ask my opinion. I received a text two days after the clinic that said they'd found a home for Neo with someone (a "trainer") who was willing to work with him.

Jack gave me some work on the ground during Paul's clinic. Riding was pretty simple, but groundwork was challenging at times. He's just pushy. But you can't fault him for that. He's been taught to be pushy. Kids had been riding him. Kids make great "trainers" don't they. (I'm not talking about all kids...but in general, unless your kid's been started in the Ray Hunt method of horsemanship, kids make very poor horse trainers.) But anyway, even though Jack had made noticeable improvements, and we addressed and improved everything that was asked of us in 30 days (trail riding alone, cow sorting, and buddy-sourness) he wasn't going to be the "beginner" horse that she was looking for when friends come over to ride, she decided to put him up for sale.

While both of these situations are somewhat disappointing for me, they are what they are. I do realize that the human must be invested and involved in order for horsemanship to work for the horse...and I can't want it enough for someone else in order for them to get that.

So best wishes to Neo and Jack in their future.

And now for my future.

Let me preface this by saying that I'm both excited and apprehensive, optimistic but yet doubting every decision I make. I am heading down a new path with PATH Intl. I leaving for 3 months to study and ultimately become a certified therapeutic horsemanship instructor. I hope this journey not only helps me understand how to better communicate with people who have various emotional and psychological disabilities (no matter how great or small), but also to help people with physical disabilities who need the help of a horse to provide them with legs or to strengthen their core muscles in order to have a better way of life. In the process, my hope is to bring the level of horsemanship I have become so passionate about into a therapeutic program that will help horses and people.

I have quit my job. This scares me.

I leave in a week. This scares me.

I will be away from my husband, horses, dogs, cat, family, friends. This scares me.

I will be in New England for the fall colors. This excites me.

I will be in an intensive learning environment. This excites me.

I am following my dreams and starting a new life that is centered around horses and people. This excites me. And terrifies me.

See ya later, Comfort Zone.

Pack your bags, Doubt; you're going with me.

Neo

A couple of months ago, I spent a day in the sun picking up manure and riding horses. I had finally gotten back on Strega after a winter hiatus, rode Drifter in the arena and, despite my exhaustion, decided to finish the afternoon with a short stroll around Shay Meadow on Jake. As we rounded the bend of rocky trail to grassy meadow, we rode upon two people and their horses. The woman was grazing her buckskin paint horse and the man was mounted on a bay.

Courteous greetings were exchanged and when they asked how I was, my response was, "Tired. This is my last ride of the day."

"Do you train?" She asked.

"Not officially." I responded. "This is just my passion."

The conversation progressed to where we realized that we had met before, at Paul Dietz's Big Bear Clinic in 2008, and I recognized the grazing paint, Neo, as the same beautiful 3 year old from that clinic.

Neo in 2008 at age 3

"You're Maggie*, right?" I confirmed, remembering when I met her that she was just 3 months recovered from a horse-related broken arm. She came to Paul's clinic for confidence building and said he helped her tremendously.

She insinuated that they wanted some help with Neo, that there had been some changes in her life. Things were left open-ended, and Jake and I continued down the trail.

With Paul's clinic fast approaching, I've sent out flyers and emails and text messages, I got a response from Maggie asking about the clinic for her new husband and if I could indeed help them with Neo. So this week, we set up a time and they came over yesterday afternoon.

At a towering 17 hands, Neo was nervous, so I got him moving freely in the arena. He didn't appear spooky and was not bothered by the flag sending him in different directions. He was, more or less, distracted but eventually came back to be haltered. He crowded my space and wouldn't back up, was heavy when leading, and he was not interested in flexing laterally. As I spent some time figuring out how responsive (or unresponsive) he was, I was able to get a few things working for me a little better to move on to what was a bigger problem for his owners: saddling.

"He steps away. My ex used to sneak up on him to saddle him."

"Do you tie him?" I asked.

"No. He pulls back."

Hmmm. I thought. "OK, let's start from scratch."

So I decided to get myself in colt starting mindset. I carried my saddle and pad out into the arena and worked at swinging the pad up and off, repeating several times as he occasionally stepped away from me. I reached down, grabbed my saddle and swung it up.

"He never does that!"

"I believe you." I said as I pulled the saddle off. He wildly swung away as the saddle slid from his back. He planted his feet in cement as I asked him to step forward.

"Here's the horse that pulls back." I said. "He does not yield to pressure here. He should step forward."

So I changed gears from saddling to groundwork again, trying to build through pressure and release a horse that will lead properly. While working through this, Maggie gave me a little glimpse into Neo's past from 2008 where he was a colt with a lot of promise to the troubled horse he is today. He'd been to a few different trainers for 30 days here and there, but last year bucked off someone who had just offered to ride him. I'd heard the story previously and tried to keep my opinion to myself (gymkhana without quality, riding with legs draped over the saddle forks, riding in a mechanical hackamore are all observations I've had of this particular person).

I saddled him again, it wasn't perfect, but it was progress and cinched him up while he stood quietly. But then he became unglued and nearly ran me over (thank goodness I built in a smidgen of respect, because he backed off when I threw my hands up in defense). Neo bucked across the arena, flinching and kicking at the saddle strings. When he came back to me, I got back to groundwork again, confused by the saddle issue with an 8 year old horse that's had "professional training". After several passes of stepping hindquarters away and moving the front across to switch directions, I moved back to lateral flexion in a tense neck that couldn't bend without moving the feet.  Neo made me wait for minutes until his feet stopped and he could get soft to the pressure on the leadrope. This was not going to be easy. No wonder they've been having trouble.

Finally, he was in a place where I felt I could get on him. He bridled pretty easily, when asked to lower his giraffe head down to take the bit. I became the best contortionist I could to reach a toe into the stirrup and hopped on my right toe in several circles until Neo stopped his feet. I lifted my body and balanced on my left toe until I felt he was stable enough to swing my right leg over. His mouth gaped and fussed with the bit and he was not light to my hands. Serpentines later, he was moving a little better.

All throughout this process, I could not comprehend what happened to this horse. Maggie told me stories, but there is a massive hole in this horse's foundation and I can't quite put my finger on it. Thankfully in the colt starting video I shot with Paul in 2011, he caught me several times with my boot too far in the stirrup. I remembered and placed it as far out as possible so as not to get caught because when I dismounted, Neo bucked away from me.

There big black hole in his foundation.

They returned again this morning, where a few things were a lot better (including their walk over to my house), and I began to introduce to Neo that picking people up from the fence is another mounting option. I noticed a few vertebrae that seemed to be out of place and asked if they've had his back checked. Maggie said she has a chiropractor and would seek getting an adjustment for him. Understandably, with Neo's height, her small 5'2" frame cannot see that high. I really wanted to revisit mounting from the ground because, naturally, he should be able to do both. Saddling and mounting today was worse than yesterday. While not cinchy, when asked to first move when saddled his body twitched and flinched and he made an odd audible noise before taking a first step. I am no doctor and typically don't think about pain issues with horses that don't like to be saddled, but something is amiss here.

After some groundwork under saddle, I worked at mounting. Maggie shared with me a slicker story that sent a trainer to the hospital. I discovered that he oddly was almost more accepting of me trying to mount from the right than on the left, but his height made that attempt awkward for me so I didn't pursue it. After possibly 10 minutes of bending and releasing, flapping the stirrups, and fake mounting by putting the weight of my hand in the stirrup and hopping on one foot, I was able to climb onto the quietly standing giraffe. I rode him a bit, worked with trying to get him soft on the bit, and approached the fence to visit and build patience in him to let me dismount there. When it finally happened, it was uneventful.

But Neo is on my mind.

What happened to him and how can I help him?

And how can I help his owners, who seem very open minded and care about him, but currently lack the education and experience to help him break through his barriers.

It's hard to not pity a horse that seems to have some dark secrets.

Nothing is quite so destructive as pity, especially self-pity.

No event in life is so terrible that one cannot rise above it. ~ Robin Hobb

In Transition

I have a dozen unfinished blog entries. But my plan is, starting late next month, to blog regularly...as my life will be heading down a different path.

Two weeks ago, my friend Al called and asked if I could take her horse Jack for a month. She had tried to sell him, but the sale fell through and she just didn’t have the time or resources to deal with the problems he had. She bought him about 8 months ago, he was supposedly a dead-broke “beginner” horse, but she had some trouble letting friends ride him. Then when she invited a friend, who is a capable rider, to take him cattle sorting with her, Jack had a major meltdown. Al knew he had issues with being buddy sour, but when the cows came out, he was uncontrollable. They left him tied to the trailer to throw a fit while Al sorted on her horse.

Al decided to give Jack one last chance. Either get a tuneup so he is worth keeping, or get tuned up enough to sell.

I’d ridden Jack twice before…at the Murrieta Equestrian Center and again to shoot a video of him to post for sale. In that short amount of riding time, I discovered he moves off your legs pretty responsively, he can do a 360 degree turn on his hindquarters, and has a slow lumbering lope that feels like he is counter cantering or cross firing. But that afternoon, I was warned that his arena manners were limited to the arena, and if they had left with their horses, he would have another dangerous meltdown.

Jack

 So Saturday, June 22, she trailered him up and I decided to take him sorting that night. Siri joined me with Bandit and we arrived early to ride a bit before sorting started. Jack was very alert to the cattle while tied to the trailer, but his warm up was enjoyable. Since I was unsure how he’d react to the cattle, I informed all the sorters that evening that I couldn’t help gather the cows to move them to the sorting pens. I am glad I remained cautious.

He balled up like a gymkhana horse ready to race speed poles, coiling back and sideways, refusing to bend. I teetered on a thread of popping him up with the reins, working a block and release, and just tried to keep his feet moving in some direction other than up. Once the cows were on their way to the pen, he freed up and cautiously followed, but felt pretty unstable. We watched a few riders sort, then I asked Siri to support me and Jack and we rode into the sorting pens.

Jack flattens his ears when he gets focused on a cow. Pardon the mule ears.

The goal was just to get Jack to get the feeling of moving the cattle. He was uncertain, but Siri and Bandit rode alongside us and helped encourage him to move forward. We used our two minutes to transfer the herd from the east pen to the west pen. We repeated this several turns, and when we exited the pens, Jack was pretty attached to Bandit and went back into gymkhana mode when Siri rode across the arena. I worked at bending him in serpentines until he would relax somewhat and give him a release. The fourth time in the pens, Jack sorted a cow…then another…then another, while Siri and Bandit blocked the gate. The fifth time, we were sorting as a team, switching of as gate and sort horse and Jack seemed to get the hang of it.

Good boy!

I suggested to Siri that we make Jack a winner and not separate him from Bandit that evening. Dealing with the buddy-sourness could be done later. We loaded up and headed home. I suggested to Siri that it would reduce stress for Bandit, who was going to his new home at Siri’s house that night, if we unloaded them, and let them settle, then load Bandit again to take him to her house. Siri unloaded Bandit and began to head to the barn. Jack was looking over the divider of the trailer and when I went to untie him he impatiently  raced backwards to exit the trailer to be with Bandit. When he hit the end of the leadrope, he went into fight mode, thrashing with his hind feet out of the trailer. I watched silently and fearfully as he fought the pressure on the halter as he thrashed between the closed left door and the right wall of the trailer, thankful that the left door was closed to provide me with a safe place to stand without being beheaded.

As soon as it started it was over and Jack stepped back into the trailer for me to help him. I worked the tightly wound slipknot loose and backed him out of the trailer. Travis told me his hind legs were underneath the trailer at one point.

Noted. He is reeeeeally buddy sour.

So Sunday, I decided I needed to face that problem. One that I have had experience working through personally on Jake (my homework assignment coming home from Buck's 2009 clinic was how to completely rid your horse of buddy sourness), but was able to witness Buck work his young horse Gidget through it in 2011. It was a perfect display of patience and it worked.

So Sunday, I asked Jack to leave my arena, which is attached to my corrals housing Jake and Drifter. As they called, his anxiety increased and he wanted to turn back. I let him return to the arena where I worked him at the trot and lope, letting him choose to stay or leave. When he decided to leave, I let him walk quietly. When he wanted to return, I picked up the pace and let him be near Jake and Drifter as long as he was moving and busy. I made a couple of passes around my house, where he could not see Jake and Drifter, but could hear them. And we repeated the process of stay or leave, Jack's choice, but staying was going to be more difficult. After about a half hour of this, he decided we could walk off the property on the far side of my house, where he could hear my horses, but was ok with leaving. We rode down the street and returned after about 10 minutes and before he could change his mind and get upset.

Jack's choice was eventually to head down the road. (I know I said I would quit taking pictures while riding...oops)

I let him soak on his success on Monday, but got him back out on Tuesday to try again. This time, he only wanted to return once and then was ready to go for a ride. We went out on the lakebed and walked, trotted, and lumberingly loped.

The beautiful lakebed, with miles of area to lope.

Wednesday, I decided to try cows again with Jack and trailered him alone to the arena. He cried in the trailer as we left the house, but he wasn't too bothered when we got to the arena. Still alert at seeing cattle, he let me saddle him and warm up with little trouble. The big difference from his previous sorting night was that he was totally ready to work cows, and did not act like gymkhana horse. He sorted great, got some great blocks, and really seemed to enjoy the job.

Yes, I understand I am a pig farmer for riding him like this.

I anticipate I need to spend a few more sessions on his buddy sourness until that is resolved, but this 15 year old horse can learn a few new tricks.

Anniversary Ride...

In other news, Travis joined me on a horseback ride to celebrate our 16th wedding anniversary. Drifter was a squirrel when we first headed out, but settled once across the lakebed and we rode up to The Eye Of God, which is a quartz rock formation that stands out in the arid forest with its bright white crystals. Travis seemed to enjoy trotting Jake and figuring out whether Jake was trying to pull one over on him by pretending to be exhausted.

We were out for about 3 hours (Travis will add an hour to that estimate) and I planned on washing them off, when he came out and asked how to bathe Jake.

"Just point the hose at him," I said.

I can't tell if they bonded over this experience, but it was worth it! For me, anyway.

Never Say Never

Looking back on last summer and finishing a post.

I am pretty sure I said never....

Sorting with Paul in the 4th of July 2012 Sortapalooza Jackpot - on the one and only Jake

I know I have said it about other things, but I am going with a 98 percent probability that I, at one point in my life said, "I will never rope a cow."

On the last day of a four day Paul Dietz clinic and a marathon 18-day Big Bear visit by the Dietzes (Paul, Christine, Gene and little Miss Davina) and the talented Megan Palmer, Paul had the cow working class split. People were working in pairs with a single cow between them, working on their turns that they practiced in horsemanship.

As the rest of the class waited, Paul announced that the handful of ropes laying near the sorting pens were open for people who wanted to mess around with them.

OK. I thought. But maybe just to get Drifter good with a rope because he can be a little shy about that stuff still.

So I rode into the West sorting pen and grabbed a coil of rope. And Drifter shied sideways in protest. I slowly worked at rubbing his coat with the rope, dragging it along the dirt around his feet before he allowed me to gather the coils. I halfheartedly tossed out a short section of coils and Drifter recoiled on his hind end to escape out the other side. I rubbed him with one hand full of rope and reins, while my right hand busily gathered the coils back up. I tried again, with less resistance. Bring in a cow.

Man, was this a clumsy attempt, but my ego sat patiently outside the round pen while I tossed coil after coil. Gene Dietz, Paul's dad, reminded me I was damn near holding my rope by the honda, so I worked the rope through the honda and slid the honda closer to the ground. I began to swing the rope again and marveled at the big loop I had made, while Drifter's ears hung sideways in humiliation at the noob on his back (perhaps it wasn't roping he was fearful of...it was ME roping). I tossed out the rope and caught one.

Clearly the shock on my face was missed by none, as a resounding "Dally! Dally!" was shouted from outside the pen. I raised my rope-and-rein-carrying left hand, wrapped the rope around the mulehide-wrapped horn and backed Drifter (not very straight - bad) until the breakaway honda popped free.

"YEEHAAAAWWWW!" I screamed. "It's better than fishing!"

My only comparison is fishing with my dad when I was younger. I remember a day at Canyon Lake. That was a good day, but I was more interested in getting a suntan than I was pulling a fish out of its habitat, ripping a hook out of its mouth and deciding whether or not to keep it. My choice was always to toss it back...and if i remember correctly, my dear old dad did toss them back that day. I am sure my mom was expecting a fish fry that night, but back then she was unaware that her daughter was a vegetarian in carnivore suit.

So maybe it's not better than fishing. It's different, but it's fun, and I am pretty sure I said I'd never do it.

Since then, I've caught one other cow...at Paul's clinic in Norco. The other 73 or so tosses were always misses, but I've not practiced at all. I have no form, but I can learn.

Looking forward to Paul coming to Big Bear in July 2013. There's room at the inn if anyone wants to come.

Riders on the Storm

If you are going to be any good at this, you need to be consistent. I am learning. I am working on this. Trying to really live real life and blog about it at the same time has proven difficult for me, I am finding, but I hope I will step up to the challenge.

I don't have an excuse for the past few months, but I had kind of a rough week.

I am inspired by the prolific blogging of Robin at On the Trail to Somewhere and Brian at Another Year in Equestrian Living. They are keeping a journal of their journey with their three horses Steen, Bear and Laredo; following the "Ray Hunt/Buck Brannaman-style" of horsemanship. They support each other and practice. It's good stuff.

I intended to write a report about Buck's clinic, and still have that intention. I left the clinic with a lot to consider, and under all that consideration, I find that I am still learning how this is going to go.

As for today, I went outside with the intent to work with Drifter with more focus. The wind was howling. 40mph gusts according to the weather report.

Siri and I texted about being blown away by horsemanship before we met outside to ride. Those texts seemed to set the stage for the dead calm in the wind.

After Drifter got his bucks and gallops out, I worked him freely in the arena and began to direct him. While I was directing his energy, I thought about the wind. I took notice of the tarp and thought it wasn't well secured under the cone. Whatever happens, happens. Soon I had him connected with me and got Drifter haltered without incident but I realized I might need to continue to work with Drifter with the tarp. It's been an issue since I first started him. It's a very big hole in his foundation. Something I became aware of early, but one that I was intimidated to take on. Paul did some work with him during a pre-clinic free horsemanship demonstration in 2011. He got a good start for me, but I didn't follow Paul's lead.

In my doubt, I didn't try at all.

And this takes us to a quick recap to June 2012, an experience that was not blogged on this site because it was not about horsemanship. Despite a very fun, but somewhat frantic extreme cowboy race clinic, which indeed resulted in getting Drifter on a tarp—but not without scaring him half to death—the only time Drifter had been on a tarp was when Paul got him to cross it in his demonstration. After the cowboy race clinic, I laid a tarp out in my arena at home. I figured since he'd been over one several times now, he would go over it at my house. As soon as a hoof touched it, he barreled out of dodge and wouldn't get on it again. 

It took some time before I really could comprehend the perceived damage the extreme cowboy weekend caused. Forcing a horse to do something doesn't mean he is accepting of it. It is my responsibility to get Drifter accepting of the tarp.

I've occasionally used the tarp in approach and release sessions since then, and have even rubbed him with it a few times. But he is still very much afraid, and I've not been consistent.

No matter what happens today, Drifter is not at fault and needs support, I thought. The wind whipped the tarp around in my hand as I walked the arena, leading Drifter behind me. He kept his distance, but followed, although a few times I needed to free a stuck foot. He allowed me to approach. Twice, the wind whipped the tarp and Drifter high tailed it away so quickly that I didn't have a chance to drop the tarp and get his hindquarters over. So I had to let him go, catch him, and re-start. I placed the tarp under a cone and did some groundwork around it with no intention of having him touch it at all. It was still too much for him and as he crossed the far end of the arena, he tried to make an escape again. This time, I had the angle on him, but he barreled down the north-side railing of the fence with his head tilted left. I finally had the leverage to disengage his hindquarters before he hit the west-side railing. We walked back up to the tarp beneath the cone and he made two fairly quiet passes, ears cocked sideways, but on a loose lead. There's a good spot to quit, I thought.

I folded the tarp and put it in the tack room, so Drifter could have some relief from it, and I wouldn't get suckered into dealing with it further.

So this brings me to the calm in the windstorm. We had a very quiet, productive ride, where I started on some deep serpentines in which I really concentrated on lifting the inside foot as it was leaving the ground. I worked on backing a specific number of steps that transitioned nicely to forward steps. After a while of this, I moved to sending the hindquarters 180 degrees, and the front quarters 180 degrees, where I discovered a hole there, which brought me down to just asking for a soft feel laterally. Some patience in working at that for a little while was giving me a huge reward. Drifter was responsive to the point of bending his head around without the slobber strap being raised by the rein at all. Reach for the horse until he can reach for you. Mine was reaching for me in those moments. It's true that you can't practice it enough.

That felt so good that I was OK to be done. I looked up and Siri had clearly been working on things with Bandit, so I grabbed my camera for some pictures and we stopped to reflect.

Last day at Buck's

In a few hours, I will be getting up to feed Drifter. It will be the last day of a challenging Buck Brannaman clinic. I had a tough day mentally yesterday, and it poured on us all day and into the night. This left us with snotty muddy conditions today, but today was much better for me to ride with a better outlook.

A full report will follow upon my return.

Until then, reach for your horse until he can reach for you.

The calm before the storm

Car and trailer eating muddy parking lot

Drifting into 2013 with lessons from 2012

As 2012 faded into history and 2013 revealed a new day and a new feel, it was far beyond time for me to update. It's been months since my last post, and winter hit us with a blast of frosty air. The snow hasn't been too bad, but it's been bitterly cold...the kind of chill that burns your skin.

While a ride in September was a lesson for me to remember about complacent riding (at least on an immature horse), Drifter and I have easily moved back into our usual positive patterns in horsemanship. He has taught me just as much about my communication as I have taught him how to carry a rider.

One of the lessons he has taught me about horses -- via how sensitive he is and how much I am paying attention these days -- is that horses actually have the ability to manifest what is going on inside someone. Everyone has heard that if you are nervous around a horse, they can sense it. This is true, but it goes even deeper than that. While that may sound strange/unbelievable...I have seen the physical incarnation of it. If you have seen Avatar, you might recall the unique connection depicted between the Na'vi and their direhorses: tsaheylu (or bond) they called it. Let me explain:

Last year, in the Spring of 2012, after four days at Buck's clinic in Phoenix, I dismounted and walked Drifter out of the arena. It was approximately his 25th ride. My friend, who is an accomplished rider and had audited the entire clinic, had expressed interest in riding Drifter. He was in a great mindset. His head was low and he was quiet. I felt it was a safe time to give it a shot.

We moved him to the lower arena and she got on him. His head immediately shot upward and he began to dance around. I asked my friend to bend him into some serpentines (s-turns) to free him up, but he began to call out to the other horses at the trailers (which he had not done all weekend). She got him busy, something she is comfortable doing on her own horse who has enough energy for 10 horses. As much as I wanted her to feel how responsive he was, he wasn't settling. After a few minutes, I began to wonder if something was wrong.

"What are you thinking about right now?" I asked.

"I have to go check out of my hotel." she replied honestly. 

"Well then get off of him and go. That's what's wrong with him."

When she dismounted, Drifter began to settle into his own skin. And with that, we both were able to see that horses can truly mirror you. Literally, they can outwardly express what is going on inside someone.

This isn't a case of a horse with too much energy, fear, or lack of training. This was a case of a horse who was quiet and calm, and then someone who had somewhere else to be sat on his back and he showed me what she was thinking. He outwardly showed that she was in a hurry...that she needed to go. 

And that was just an incarnation of hurry.

Imagine what it would have looked like if someone fearful got on him. Horses are flight animals. Fear makes them want to leave. Anyone who has ever been on a runaway horse should try to remember what they themselves were doing on the horse's back. What about an aggressive/assertive rider? 

This is what happens when an overbearing rider tries to control a horse.

But the default is to always blame the horse. And perhaps it is wrong of me to resort to blaming the rider, but humans are the ones who engaged the horse...not the other way around. 

This October, my friend Erin came up to visit for Halloween (imagine two unicorns and a satyr roaming the San Bernardino mountains). Prior to the Halloween festivities, Erin and I set out on Jake and Drifter and we headed to the Vaqueros Arena (since she has limited access to arenas in her neck of the Pacific Northwest). She struggled a bit with Jake's laziness, but she eventually woke him up and got a few impressive stops on him. Dare I say I was a bit jealous of how she got him to move. But then again, I know I don't put that kind of effort into Jake much anymore. I appreciate that she puts much effort into connecting with a horse when she rides. I wanted to see what Drifter would do with Erin.

After dropping the stirrups a mile, she got on him and walked the arena in a quiet stride in silence. He maintained an easygoing pace and a low head carriage. As I observed this, it appeared that she was introducing herself to him. Eventually, she asked him to pick up the pace and moved him laterally, picking up the reins for softness, and adjusted her own posture when she realized he was dropping his shoulder going to the left of the arena. Drifter manifested her unobstructed communication and confidence.

To me, riding is no longer riding. It's being. If you are having trouble, you don't have to fix your horse, you have to adjust yourself. The horse will follow you if you can lead them. But as we have observed with politicians, employers, pastors, and teachers, some "leaders" aren't really worthy of being followed. What kind of leader are you?

One of my biggest lessons has been: if you try to make it happen, you still have some work to do on you. Use the mechanics of what you've learned, open your heart, focus your feel. Set it up and let it happen...see how that works. You might experience magic.