I saw a unicorn stopping traffic on the way to EQUU8 Murrieta today.
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| You thought I was crazy, didn't you... |
27 weeks ago, I met a six-year old angel wrapped in the body of a child.
Carter is a participant who has such a peaceful presence about him that he attracts volunteers who show up just because of him. He is quiet, but trusting. He has taken a liking to the activity of riding horses, but he also enjoys silly human noises, plastic keys to chew on, electronic noisemakers, and animatronic stuffed animals. His pupils are encompassed by indigo starbursts floating in arctic blue irises. Initially, we focused on getting Carter balanced on the horse and improving his trunk strength and posture, but it wasn't long before making eye contact with him became an objective of his lessons...with the goal being that Carter will communicate.
When the eye contact started coming, it was time to show him how to ask the horse to move.
"Carter, walk on." I'd say while demonstrating the hand signal (in the therapeutic riding world) for asking a horse to move forward. Since he started riding in April, Carter often would ignore our requests instead choosing the distractions of noisemakers or generally seeming unfazed. It will come, I thought. I don't know when, but I believe Carter will communicate with us.
Carter's mother beams when she shares stories about her son. Her assistance and support—and bag full of pacifying and stimulating toys—has helped far more than she will ever know.
So with Carter, the focus became to teach him to equate communicating with getting the horse to move. His lessons have always consisted of making eye contact, modeling communication, and also stops and starts and serpentines (which help him physically to build core strength). He always had the option to listen or reach for noisemakers during his lesson to keep his attention. But each week, we continued to pepper his experience with three steps. "Carter" (make eye contact). Hand signal (communicate). "Walk on" (result of communication) as the horse is led to move forward. Week after week. Lesson after lesson.
For three 9-week sessions, the goal has been communication, while the objectives have been to make eye contact, to encourage good posture through the horse's movement, and to attempt communication.
About 11 weeks ago, I thought I saw Carter motion his hands in a way that I felt was an attempt at the sign for "walk on". But it was once upon a time and I haven't seen it since.
Last week, Carter's eye contact was stunning. We reveled in longer stops with less distractions...and we were all amazed when the day came that Carter began to pet Smokey's mane...stroking her long black hair repeatedly and refusing to replace the hair in his hand with a toy. In his first 9 weeks, he somewhat balked at touching horsehair. He began to tolerate longer periods of time riding the horse while not being stimulated in other ways. He's not super fond of the noodle curtain (it's a bit too overbearing). He likes the friendly faces around him. He doesn't love it when we grab his wrists and demonstrate to him how to use his hands to ask the horse to walk.
"Carter (pause), walk on." (Volunteers move his hands.)
My horsemanship mentors have repeatedly reminded me over the years regarding young horses: it takes as long as it takes. Such is the case with these children and their therapeutic riding.
So last week, something changed during one of our stops. Carter rocked in the saddle as if to ask for movement.
He wants to ride! Excitement!
Today was the last day of Carter's third session, and he sat in a 10" children's western saddle above us, propped atop Smokey's back. At the beginning of his lesson, he rocked his small body as if to say "Let's ride!"
I reminded the volunteers what we are looking for with Carter. The tasks have not changed in all the weeks we have enjoyed with Carter. Eye contact, hand signal, lead the horse.
And as I called Carter's name, the eye contact followed. "Do you want to walk on?" I asked. He smiled and nodded, rocking gently in the saddle.
"Carter." I said, signing the cue to walk on.
He tolerated when volunteers Christa and Neal grabbed his hands, then smiled as Smokey carried his tiny body into the sunset. He squinted until he rode into the shade of the hay barn where I knew he would have the ability to look at me.
"Whoa," I said and attempted to communicate again. "Carter (pause), walk on (sign)."
This time, Carter smiled as he stretched his right hand down toward Neal and curled his hand in the subtlest cue to walk on.
I reminded myself to let Carter enjoy the moment and refrained from asking for one more try, as Smokey weaved around the cones, allowing Carter to enjoy what he'd been asking for the whole lesson.
His smile is pure, unrefined joy.
The green noisemaker his mother handed to me at the beginning of the lesson was pulled from my pocket long after they had gone home.
We never used it during his lesson today.
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If you would like to sponsor lessons for a child like Carter, please donate to EQUU8, PO Box 703, Big Bear City, CA 92314 or click the Donate/PayPal link on equu8.org. EQUU8 is a 501(c)(3) non profit corporation.
For some people, the path to healing is found through horses.
