Buck Brannaman's 2015 New River Clinic

Over EQUU8's spring break, I sought to further my horsemanship education by attending Buck Brannaman's clinic in New River, AZ...hosted by my teacher, Paul Dietz. This year, two EQUU8 volunteers (Sierra and Hailey) joined me. This was my sixth clinic in New River since 2009, and I believe it was one of the best. The weather was great, if just a tad hot. The participants seemed to really be trying hard to apply Buck's lessons to their horsemanship and Buck was in a good mood, seeming genuinely happy that the participants were present and listening.

Suz & Drifter, Sierra (Junior not pictured), Buck & Arc, Hailey (Quincy not pictured), Paul & Cinco

As with all of the clinics, in the first hour, we listened to Buck's stories. Buck talked about the young snaffle bit horse he was riding and got him working some serpentines and circles. The first few minutes Buck was on Big Swede, the horse scooted out sideways in a nearly identical maneuver that chucked me off the back of Bravo in January. I immediately took note of Buck's balance and how short his reins were. My reins were too long and I didn't have the balance point that Buck had. I tried in vain to one-rein stop to the right, but found the ground instead as Bravo exited left. Buck told me to keep my weight in the left stirrup. "You'll need that right leg to help the hindquarters around, so you don't want your weight there." He added that I need to keep my reins short and very wide, but with my hands forward so contact isn't on the bit unless I bend the horse...until I know the horse is in a better mindframe. Sounds simple enough. (I was thankful for the advice for my post-clinic ride on Bravo, because I needed it and stayed in the saddle.)

Among other lessons Buck focused on this year was "the reach", which was used over the course of the clinic to help my horse wait for me (rather than tossing his head) when working a cow. The 2-part exercise has two positions. Its benefits include teaching a horse to wait (not anticipate), and teaches the rider to be more aware of the feet and positioning.

1. Ask your horse to bend his head around approximately 90-degrees (for this example, to the right). 

• When you reach for the horse's head, slide your hand down the right rein. Bring the rein out and around as your horse bends his head. Your elbow will end up at your side and your right hand in front of the saddle, to the right of the horn.
• Your horse shouldn't move his feet. If he does, wait and go back to step one.
• You want your horse's head and ears level. You want lateral and longitudinal flexion. If his head is uneven, he is unbalanced with too much weight on the outside shoulder. If the poll is too low, there is too much weight on the front end.
• You want to practice this (don't drill on it...get something good and then move on, but keep practicing) until you can "bet your life on it" with your horse light and willing to respond.

2. Ask your horse to reach his right foot out to the right.

• Bring your right elbow back and slide the rein and your hand to where your elbow was in position 1...about six inches away from your hip. 
• You will use the outside supporting left rein gently. A supporting leg can be developed when the horse is reaching properly.
• Your horse should take one step...a good reaching step to the right. Good timing would be for your horse to take the step as you are moving the rein out to position 2.
• You will release as the reaching foot lands. "Hook the rein to the foot...pick the foot up and move it, then set it down."
• If your horse moves forward after the first step, back him up, releasing when he's soft.

Sierra and Junior practicing "The Reach" from position 1...

The Reach position 2

Eventually, you will not need to bend the horse's head as much, but this is a start for developing proper flexion through a turn. I went back to step one with Drifter, teaching him to wait on me.

"You're gonna need this with that horse." Buck said to me, noting that Drifter was trying really hard to be in position on a cow, but he tossed his head and pushed through my reins to do it. I asked if I should move Drifter back to the snaffle bit, but Buck seemed to think I could get it done with where I'm at in the hackamore (bosal hackamore, to clarify). At the end of the four days, I had better awareness of positioning and much more focused horse when things got fast in cow working. Certainly room to grow, but it was much better. 

Day 1

Day 2

Day 3

Day 4

This year, Buck often mentioned "the rectangle" of real estate shared between you and your horse. His message is consistent with all participants from clinic to clinic (hearing the same messages when auditing Del Mar).

We had pretty good seats on a raised patio in Del Mar, sitting us right behind Buck's place in the cow-working rodear. He told participants when their horses were outside their rectangles. Sometimes the horse was ahead of the rider...sometimes they were behind.

I took a quiet moment to ask Buck a question about the rectangle.

"Is the rectancle nose to tail?"

"I'm not sure what you mean." Buck said.

"Is it the whole horse from nose to tail or is the rectangle the horse's four feet?" I tried to specify.

"It's the whole horse." He said. "When you get really good at this, you will be able to keep your horse within inches of your rectangle. Some people's rectangles are feet, or yards, or an entire arena."

My rectangle isn't as big as it used to be...but I remember needing an arena. Thank you for the reminder!

Next chance for continuing education will be Paul Dietz's clinic in July in Big Bear. Until then, I am going to practice reaching.

The Big Bang

I'm working on a report of the Buck Brannaman clinic in New River, but here's a short little story to share about EQUU8's trip to Arizona.

In years past, I've headed home right after the clinic. This year, Hailey and Sierra didn't need to be home Tuesday, so we decided to rest another night before heading home. This turned out to be a good decision.

On Monday, Junior cut his coronet band (the hairline above the hoof) pretty good while getting out of the trailer. He had also been dancing around in the trailer and scuffed his leg, so we were going to be extra cautious for the long haul home. I had picked up some ointment from Mike Bruce for doctoring Junior's coronet band and we wrapped him up for shipping. Soon, we were loaded and ready to head west. It was about 10:45am and the hottest morning of the trip. Hot air balloons peppered the skyline and we said our goodbyes before Paul and Maggie rolled out to go rope some cattle.

We drove to Surprise for fuel and I checked the trailer hitch, tires, and horses, while Sierra and Hailey made a Starbucks run before we made our way out Sun Valley Parkway toward Buckeye. We listened to music, talked about the clinic, teaching lessons, how to write lesson plans, and just general girl talk.

Outside of Quartzite, I decided to make another fuel stop before we hit California gas prices. We took a selfie in front of a giant highway-side American flag and got lunch and snack. I did a quick once over walk around the trailer.

Then it was off to California, where, for the first time ever, they checked our vet papers upon arrival in the state. We cruised outside of Blythe and headed up the slow westbound grade to Cheriaco Summit.

The trailer wobbled.

"Someone's dancing around back there." I said, slightly letting off the accelerator to try to stabilize the trailer.

Fleetwood Mac was playing through the iPod and then BANG!

"(Expletive!)" My heart pounded. "(Lots of expletives!) I hope a horse didn't go down in the trailer! Ohgod, ohgod, ohgod..."

I couldn't see anything in the mirrors so I turned on my hazards and coasted to the narrow shoulder in a painful minute-long deceleration. I didn't brake, but downshifted as the truck slowed. Before we rolled to a stop, Sierra jumped out the passenger side to assess the damage, yelling "It's a tire! It's a tire!"

Relieved, but my body shaking with adrenaline, I watched for traffic before exiting the cab.

The horses were alert, but calm. The trailer had seen better days. Ouch.

Still, it could have been much worse.

I quickly called Kathy to let her know what happened and we got to work. Hailey documented the process as Sierra and I got our hands dirty.

Thankfully, before we left for our trip, Travis reminded me to get the tire iron and some blocks. Kathy and Glenn had a ramp in the trailer tack room. We had everything we needed to get the tire changed, including a fluorescent yellow brush bucket to put behind the trailer to alert drivers of our precarious position on a very narrow shoulder.

No sooner did we get the new tire on and use Sierra's shoelace to tie a loose piece of metal to the trailer did the CHP show up.

"You ladies having fun?" He asked.

"We just got the tire changed." I answered.

"So you're good then?"

Uhhh. I guess. We're just girls. Just girls who survived a blowout, kept control of the trailer, changed a tire, and the horses are safe.

"Yeah. We're good."

GIRL POWER! 

Just another thing EQUU8 represents.

So now we just need to get this thing repaired. We might need some man power for that. :-)

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

Finding Direction from the Circle of Horsemen

And someone you never meet
Signs a check you get every week
You try and you still can't forget
All the strangers that you have met
~Patty Griffin "Florida"

I have a job. Grateful in this economy to be sure. I get a couple of paid weeks per year to do with as I please. Certainly half seem to go toward my horsemanship. I try not to get sick so I can ensure I have days to ride and learn. At times I will stare at my computer screen...the programming codes and fields fill each pixel with strict data, but my mind is in the dust amidst the cattle, horses, herringbone vests, and vaquero hats.

It's a passion that has lead to growth within my own tiny orbit within this universe.

A bit of history.

Discovering personal integrity
I met Paul Dietz in 2006. Jake was 3. Looking back, I was inadvertently a horrible horsewoman by my own present assessment. I was a hack; the kind of rider that makes me cringe now. It wasn't that I meant to be that way, it was just the way I had been taught. I was the queen of cracking a whip when lunging my horse in endless mindless circles that merely taught him to tune me out and build up endurance for plenty of trouble when I sat on his back. And that's not even touching my heavy-handedness.

In the clinic, Paul spoke of his mentors. Not just Buck, but Ray and Tom. I knew the names from Kathy, but back in those days she gave me bits and pieces and then waited to see if I would eventually find it. I went through the motions of the foundation class, not really understanding why we were doing it. The explanations were foreign. My hands clumsily fumbled with the leadrope, switching hands...moving hindquarters...walking the horse along the fence and back. It was foreign. And all I knew when I met Paul is that things had to change, as I had recently bought a horse that I had committed to start myself. I was one of two people who left that first clinic with enough information to know that I needed more.

What I remember most about that first clinic isn't something I am proud of. But it was a necessary experience that sent me down this path. Jake gave me some trouble as I went to get in the saddle on the second day. It was somewhat of a buck or a kick, but I'd had it with his behavior and I removed myself from the clinic to go out to the back lot to lunge him. With a whip. Aggressively. He wasn't moving fast enough. I knew what I was doing...I was being vengeful and spiteful and "showing Jake who was his boss". After I was satisfied that I had wore him out to the point where I felt I could get back on him, I returned to the arena. During a break, I complained to Paul about Jake's behavior. Paul asked me what I was trying to accomplish outside of the arena.

I insecurely argued, making excuses that Jake tried to buck me off. Paul didn't take my side.

"I saw what you did." He said frankly.

End of conversation. I shut down. I was mad, but he was right. And I had to chew on that for a year or so. When Paul says he is there for your horse, he means it.

No one stood up for Jake that day but Paul.

And for a couple of years to follow, there were many times I needed Paul put a mirror in front of me ("Why do you have him in a twisted-wire snaffle?" he asked me once)...to end my bouts of vengeance and whip-cracking, which only brought out a fight in Jake. That horse was not one to submit to spur, whip, or lungeline.

People didn't like Jake. Comments that he should have been dog food...glue...or shot were not uncommon. He was described as intimidating. I called him Turd. I had been praised for having the patience of a saint. Looking back, Jake was the one with patience.

It's hard to hear the truth sometimes, but only when you are open to it, can you grow.

The sponsor that year packed the arena with the best of intentions in trying to get a good base of clientele for Paul in our area, but it was overcrowded to the point that people felt as if they didn't get enough "time" for their money. Some students badly misbehaved against their horses. That had to have been hard for Paul to see. Despite taking a hit from that clinic, he returned.

The first couple of clinics, Paul seemed a bit stoic to me. Perhaps he was wary of me (as I certainly didn't make the best first impression). But as I got to know him as a teacher, and eventually as a friend, he really is just trying to help people's horses get a better deal.

And over the next few years, I kept coming back as a student who was looking for information...but came out the other side with something more profound than just horsemanship. You won't believe what you might believe if you put enough energy into something. And that goes for positive and negative energy.

In 2008, Paul called and asked, "So...are you coming to Buck's?"

"No, I'm still trying to understand what you are teaching."

Paul's 2008 clinics came and went, and things were slowly getting better with Jake. But they definitely weren't consistent. I still had a lot of force (the "get after him" mentality that was ingrained in my head as a teenager learning to ride) that I was trying to tame within myself. At times, I would walk out to the corrals where Jake was pacing and rearing, wild-eyed as a caged tiger; it was an easy decision to grab my old Arab, Buddy. Some days, I just didn't have it in me to get Jake out. I couldn't go to war every day, but if I had been able to comprehend that war shouldn't have even been in the lesson plan to begin with, I might have had better luck.

In 2009, Paul called and asked, "So...are you coming to Buck's?"

"No, I'm still trying to understand what you are teaching."

But then Kathy called and told me she was thinking about going and asked if I wanted to join her. Road trip! Of course...and with Travis's blessing, the check was sent and the time counted down until...

Tragedy.

News hit that Ray Hunt had passed away on March 12, 2009. A man who had become legendary while he was still alive, Buck and Paul were among Ray's close friends and family who were there for Ray's funeral. There was concern that the clinic would be canceled, but Buck rode into the New River, AZ arena on March 27, 2009.

Being the first clinic of Buck's I had attended, I quickly observed that his presence filled the arena when he rode in.

As the morning session began, one of the riders asked Buck how he was doing since Ray's passing. His reply made me wish I had not missed out on seeing Ray in person. Heartbreak in his voice, a lump in his throat, Buck spoke softly and respectfully about the man who inspired and taught him.

My relationship with Jake would crescendo at this 2009 clinic.

The wind was sharp and aggressive that weekend. It cut through horses' coats and humans' clothing. Jake was buddy-sour to Kathy's mare, Chic. I could barely keep him bent to disengage his hindquarters to save myself from flying over the arena railing. He was being difficult, at best. Sharp serpentines were on the agenda for much of the mornings.

Saturday, things went from bad to worse. There are videos shot by Mike Thomas (a longtime friend of Buck's and Ray's, www.mikethomashorsemen.com, video here) where a screaming horse can be heard over Buck's voice. That, my friends, was Jake. Being with me was the last thing on his mind. I couldn't make him want to find comfort in me. And my frustration was mounting, a migraine was looming, and I was missing out on the clinic.

Melissa, who had come to audit, ran to get the Excedrin Migraine. I was trembling and crying. She reassured me and I went back to working with my horse.

Buck got me (and the rest of the class) back to doing sharp serpentines...freeing up Jake's feet, directing them, moving them...freeing up my frustrated mind, directing it, moving it.

Sharp serpentine Buck Clinic 2009 - Photo by Mike Thomas

But every step felt like battle to me. He whinnied and called for Chic for most of the day. He would fake spook and go scooting 20 feet across the arena. Head tossing and more screaming. I felt broken. Jake would win this war and I had it in my mind that starting a colt was the worst decision I had ever made. In my mind, I'd been working at this horsemanship stuff for almost three years now and should have been at a different level. But in reality, I'd been incorporating it into my agenda. Trying to mix and match what I thought was working for me with what I thought I had been learning from the clinics. And to answer Dr. Phil's question, "How's that working for ya?" It wasn't.

So that evening, I had confessed that I wasn't sure if I wanted to ride Jake on Sunday. Paul Dietz and Hal Coker offered. Steve offered to bring his horse Gator for me. But in the morning, when Gator wasn't receptive to being caught by me, I realized that maybe the problem was me and not my horse.

In the morning as I drove down 7th Ave./New River Rd. to go feed the horses, Trace Adkins song came on the radio...

You're gonna miss this.
You're gonna want this back.
You're gonna wish these days hadn't gone by so fast.
These are some good times,
so take a good look around...
You may not know it now, but you're gonna miss this.

...and (yes, from a country music song) I realized I needed to slow down and pay attention to every moment in Arizona. I am glad I did.

So let's try this again.

The clean slate after overnight tears and broken ego, I walked up to Jake on Sunday morning.

Jake wasn't receptive to being haltered, but I haltered him anyway. I asked Kathy and Chic to walk with me to the arena, so as not to cause stress first thing in the morning.

Buck reminded me that the more frustrated I got with my horse, the less likely he would want to be with me. And he also told me that I had broken through a wall with my horse on my worst day of the clinic. And although I may not see it (I didn't), I had made a change and things would be different with me and Jake.

On the last day, the wind kicked it up a notch. It was miserable, but even one of the clinic participants commented, "Well, look who finally calmed down on the windiest day of the clinic."

Yep, it was Jake. Cool and calm. Responsive. But it wasn't magic. And the weather no longer mattered.

I had a big year ahead of me in 2009. Lots of tools to work with. Buck sent Kathy and me home with homework to break the buddy-sourness. And it worked. On day 1.

It would be almost a year before I saw Buck again, at Ray Hunt's Memorial Clinic in Fort Worth (along with Paul), and then again at his clinic in Phoenix. The 2009 homework and subsequent (and amazing) Paul Dietz VIP and Big Bear clinics had eventually progressed me and Jake into the hackamore. I was proud of my hard work and to be able to ride him in Buck's 2010 clinic and have him (and myself) in a much better frame of mind.

Sharp serpentine Buck Clinic 2010 - Photo by Mike Thomas

So, to Trace Adkins, I don't miss that time in my life. It happened for a reason, I was present enough to remember it vividly and I love that I experienced it.

It's hard to unlearn what has become habitual in your life. But habit doesn't mean what you are doing is right. And it's unfortunate that so many people ride the same, year-in and year-out. I was one of them when I first started hearing about these clinics. I thought, I don't need to do attend a clinic because I can ride. 

But then it was recently explained to me that many horsepeople who have "20 years' experience", instead might have one year of experience repeated 20 times over.

And there is something so incredibly beautiful that is being lost in all of it. The message is so profound that it's no wonder most people miss it. It's no wonder I missed it for 20 years. In the last few years, it has begun to unfold and I am continually amazed at this progressive horsemanship.

My journey is just beginning. All I can think to do is share it so others might be able to find it.

One more question for Buck

The nice thing about riding in Buck Brannaman's clinic in Arizona is that a couple of weeks later, he is usually somewhere in Southern California.

On Saturday, April 7, I was up with the sun to head down to Del Mar in order to catch him before he is gone until 2013.

I tried to make arrangements to get someone to go with me, but people were busy with overbooked weekends and daily lives, so I relented to be OK with following my dreams solo. My experience won't be the same as another's anyway, so I was going for my own experience. At the bottom of the hill, I made one last call.

"Hi, you've reached Alisa. Leave a message and I will call you back."

"I will be passing by your house in about an hour. Call me if you want me to pick you up."

I drove to the sound of tires on the highway. Alone.

My phone rang when I was nearing Temecula. "If you're not too far out of the way, I will go with you." Alisa's sleepy voice said. I turned around.

We were back on the road in about 45 minutes so we were going to miss a bit of horsemanship. When we arrived at Clews Ranch, it was clear that there were lots of spectators. Cars were spilling out onto the road. We drove partway up a quarter-mile long driveway and turned around. Good thing we didn't bring the Ford or her Tundra. I squeezed by a trailhead and we walked up the driveway.

There were several hundred spectators around an arena that looked just about as overbooked as the New River clinic. It worked out OK in Arizona, but Del Mar seemed to be a troubled group as soon as we approached the arena. It was a blend of english and dressage saddles, trail and ranch saddles in the arena.

Alisa got a phone call that her mom's purse was stolen, so she immediately was on the phone trying to get things sorted out.

The class was in an awkward silence. They were apparently working on something from the ground...I assumed he was having them get their horses light by grabbing the slobber strap and picking up to see how soft you can get your horse to give and get back. But many people were standing along the rail. Some were in a dust cloud. Some were clearly doing their own thing.

"Oh my god, Suzanne?!" a voice called from inside the arena.

"Alex! Hi!" It was Alex, who leased Buddy from me when Travis and I moved to Big Bear. She leased him and rode him for 5-6 years until I brought him up the mountain. I haven't seen her since 2003.

Suzanne and Alex

We set up our chairs and Alisa was quietly making calls.

No sooner did Alisa hang up the phone and ask, "what are they doing?" did Buck call the class in for a talk.

And it became clear to me why he doesn't allow video taping at his clinics...because what happened could clearly have been taken out of context.

He gave the class a piece of his mind. He was disappointed that people didn't do their homework from the first day, which is why he never gave them additional homework. Without calling anyone out individually, among other disappointments: he was understandably upset that some people were hitting their horses to back them; he was angry that some had grabbed both reins from below the neck, collapsing bits up into the bars inside their horses mouths.

Buck was clearly upset. He never once directed the offenders to do such things.

A participant even argued with him about it.

How sad that many of these people were missing an amazing opportunity, but showed up to an arena and did their own thing instead.

How sad for some of those horses.

Over lunch break, Alisa's mom's purse was found in a gas station trash can, cash missing, but everything else seemingly intact. She decided to put her phone away for the cow working class.

Buck's opening statements were among the best topics he discusses. He spoke of riders being "contrarians" who will come up with an excuse as to why their horses might misbehave in any given circumstance, rather than getting their horses to want to be...with you...which in turn will make any obstacle or reason not to ride irrelevant.

He showcased Arc, his bridle horse's great cow cutting abilities. To me, watching him ride and knowing how he starts his horses without shortcuts is the most impressive part. He never puts a bad habit into them. He doesn't use a bit because he failed in the snaffle or hackamore. His horses have been promoted to wear a badge of honor. The bit is used as a signal, not as leverage. There is almost nothing more beautiful to me.

Buck and Arc

After the cow working, we stayed to watch the autographs and photo opportunities. We lingered and observed. We watched Shayne Jackson teaching how to tie a tail knot. And we waited for our chance.

I had one more question for Buck.

"I'm playing a bit of a waiting game with Drifter on my backup. At this stage, do I continue to wait or take a firm hold?"

His answer, as close as I can recall, was: "You've got pretty good lateral flexion on him. Get on the ground and take a hold of a slobber strap, get him soft and help him back. Really work at that. Make sure you get that release in there. You better be quick with your release. The timing will show him when he's right. That's real important."

Alisa, Buck, Suzanne

As Buck was leaving the arena, Alisa asked Buck how she can help Pinot with one of her problems, namely how she reacts to the flag. She will put it in her mouth and play with it, but she won't yield to it very well.

Buck told her that she still needs to respect it, which means Alisa is going to have to firm up. And she might have to firm up a lot to put some respect in there. On our drive home, she openly reflected on how Pinot's comfortable-but-disrespectful behavior overflows into other areas (riding, groundwork, other horses, other animals) and not just with the flag.

Very good observation. I am glad she went with me.

Taking it to the Arena...

So on Sunday, I dragged the Vaqueros arena and trailered Drifter over to try to make sense of the quiet groundwork that Buck insisted will help my backup.

I couldn't believe how quickly Drifter's response was getting after a few minutes. Resonating from Arizona was the theme of never stopping short of being successful, so I spent about 20 minutes...one side, then the other...releasing as quick as my peabrain could remind me to release.

Then I got on and worked tight serpentines in an all-out effort to avoid pulling Drifter through the turns. Release. Release. Release.

Sorry for the crude point of focus...self timer, self portrait

An enormous arena. Birds chirping in the crisp spring sun. Quiet arenawork. Amazing arenawork.

Who needs chicken soup for the soul?

I long trotted around the arena, picking up softness and settling into a nice transition to walk. Transitions up and down from the walk to trot. Getting them smooth...working toward seamless. Repeat. Repeat. Repeat.

As I was trotting out, I picked up a soft feel but didn't slow my body. We trotted with softness. I decided to try something. I moved to position 3 (on the back pockets of your jeans). Drifter crushed the dirt with his hind end in a tiny sliding stop.

I immediately rubbed his neck, dismounted, untacked and sat down in the dirt to "soak". Drifter departed to explore the arena, bucking and whinneying.

As the sun burnt my back where I couldn't reach with sunscreen, I watched him and smiled.

And then Drifter did the unexpected....

And he stayed here...

Was it a display of trust? Comfort? Contentment? All I know is it was not coincidence. Whatever it was, it astounded me.

How's that for an answer to my question?

Tranquility

On Monday, the drive home felt "different".

Monica & Bullet; Suzanne & Drifter; Buck & Gidget; Kathy & Junior

Buck Brannaman's New River, AZ clinic atmosphere was different from previous years. People were lined up with books, DVDs, and hats to get Buck's autograph. When we might have had 40 spectators before, there were hundreds this year. The spectators were lively and interactive. They applauded for riders who had success with their horses working cows. They cheered when Buck said Facebook was for people who have too much time on their hands and nothing productive to do (...which is kind of funny, because I know some people were "checking in" to Facebook that morning). They laughed when Buck was helping an individual student and would say to the rest of the class "and the rest of you honyockers better be listening". At one point, I was slightly unseated from the saddle when Drifter let out a little kick while working cows. I heard a unanimous gasp from the bleachers, and realized the spectators thought I was going to be a lawn dart. Buck explained to them that Drifter had just realized that he is superior to the cows. (He's at the bottom of the pecking order at home, so he must have felt pretty good. It makes me smile.)

Last year, after Buck's clinic, I cried on the drive home, trying to make sense of what had happened with Junior. I sought answers which were nowhere to be found. I felt mentally lost until a few days later, Mike Thomas told me to "Never let anyone try to convince me that it didn't happen. You will now hear differently and learn faster." It's very clear that it is a big secret.

Mike was right. I heard Buck differently this year. It's almost as if he speaks in a code that only those who know the secret can hear. And you work at it with so much dedication that you might as well be the only one in the arena. And it certainly doesn't make you any better than anyone else...you just work at it. And you think. Those who don't know the secret work freeing up their horses...moving them better...and open themselves up to a different approach. Maybe, just maybe, to make things better for the horses.

  

This year, as we departed New River, Sis was immediately down for a nap in the backseat. We drove in silence for a bit. Exhaustion demanded coffee. A conversation with Hen in the mare motel at Paul's resonated with me. But for miles of stretches, Kathy and I didn't speak. I know where I was, and I assume she was there too.

Reflecting.

"The horse is a mirror to your soul..."

from the documentary Buck

This gift has opened my mind to the mental over physical side of "riding". Like all horses, Drifter is open to it. And because he's so new and I have been working very hard to remain fair with him when I work with him, he is responsive in ways I've never experienced before. When horses are closed to it, it has become clear to me why. And it's not the horse's fault. I don't have answers, but I do have some comprehension. All I can do is keep learning and keep working at it.

 

Buck said he is looking forward to the day that he can teach us what he knows, instead of what he thinks we need to know.

I want to be there.

If you take any activity, any art, any discipline, any skill,
take it and push it as far as it will go, push it beyond
where it has ever been before, push it to the wildest edge of edges,
then you force it into the realm of magic.
-Tom Robbins

A case of circles...

And it keeps coming back around to....

April 2011. North Phoenix. The last day of a four-day horsemanship clinic.

Buck Brannaman put the class to riding the line of a circle. There weren't any circles drawn in the arena, but the riders were instructed to work with their horse into a 10- to 12-foot circle, with the goal of getting tail to follow nose in an arc, using the reins to help the horse, but ultimately working toward using your legs more and using your reins less or no reins at all. After a bit of working at this, a pretty clear circle would be imprinted in the footing.

Photo courtesy of Mike Thomas

I was riding Kathy's young gelding, Junior. I didn't realize at the time but the sensitivity in that horse, which frustrated me at first, ultimately took me to a place I never thought was accessible in this life.

In clinics past, we had worked on these circles. If you are on a horse with not much "go", it's an experience that can be likened to inner-thigh torture. The forward movement required to keep hind following front is much better achieved in a horse willing to move. I would have not survived 15 minutes on Jake. But Junior is willing to move, which left me with working on guiding him and working on my "feel".

I wasn't prepared for what Buck was setting up. I was one of 18-some-odd riders in a dizzying assembly of circling horses. Junior and I were matting down a pretty good imprint of a circle in the arena.

Every 10 minutes or so, Buck would instruct, "Walk a half figure-8 through the middle of your circle and change directions. Move on."

Again, thanks to Mike (the Horse Mumbler) for the pictures

At times during the exercise, Junior would look out of the arena. He'd pretend to spook at something. I'd bring his nose back into the arc.

Are those bees or yellowjackets? I wondered.
Why are we doing this?

The food staff was prepping for lunch. Junior took notice. So did I. Oh, yeah...get back to your circle, Suzanne....

At one point, I thought it interesting that I'd become possessive of my circle. If a neighboring rider would encroach, I would become a little agitated as if it were my painting that someone was about to mess up with their brush. But I would soon learn it wasn't about the circle.

After about 45 minutes, people around me were falling out of their pattern. Strange geometric shapes were imprinted in the dirt beneath their horses. Another 20 minutes or so went by and some students were chatting, but still going through the motions. A few dismounted to use the outhouse. Others were taking their jackets off or pausing at the side of the arena. I overheard a comment, "I feel like a human hot walker." Clearly, frustration was mounting in the class. But for some reason I kept working at it. Trying to figure it out, knowing Buck had to have a reason.

But what?

As I searched through avenues of my horsemanship that I hadn't been down before, deep in thought of the meaning behind it, trying to feel the horse's feet, Junior met me halfway (and if I hadn't been so aware of the present moment, I'd have missed the timing of the release and the "feel" that was there) something dreamlike happened... we were floating. We were in a perfect arc; my hands weren't on the reins; we had forward movement from the front and hind. It was harmony. Time seemed to slow. Buck's voice on the loudspeaker echoed in the background as he acknowledged something that an auditor was discussing with him. A dragonfly on a tiny jetstream slalomed around us and out into the desert. I was aware of each of Junior's feet landing in the dirt as if they were my own. Our breathing was the same...our movements were the same. This is what Buck wanted! As soon as I really became conscious of what was happening, I lost "it". Junior looked out. I panicked and searched for "it" but didn't get it again, but for a moment I felt what this is all about. I relished the moment and rubbed Junior's neck.

The rest of the class for me wasn't perfect. I felt tired after four days of horsemanship and maybe Junior was too. Or maybe I was trying too hard to make it happen again, and frustrated myself that I couldn't get there again. We didn't fall apart at the seams, but that last hour was my worst of the clinic.

In closing questions, I told Buck how I went from frustration with the circles to harmony. He smiled at me.... then spoke with the class about how if he had time he'd have us do hundreds of thousands of circles. A few groans could be heard.

It was only later when I was discussing with Kathy that I realized what truly happened to me. Paul Dietz had been talking for years about the ultimate goal: one mind, one body. But I never could comprehend exactly what that meant. I was overcome with hot tears and my body trembled at the enormity of what that was like. I had to hang up the phone because I felt as if I was hyperventilating. My knees buckled and I dropped to the dirt. I panicked that I wouldn't experience it again.

The next day, I tried to seek validity from Paul. Then he simply said, "You know what you felt. Why didn't you develop it?"

How is it that I have been "riding horses" for 20+ years and not known that this was there all along!? Perhaps trying to make things happen is not the answer after all. What got me here isn't good enough to get me where I am going. The more I learn, the more I understand that I received what I had asked for. And I've tried to surround myself with a circle of horsemen and horsewomen with the same goal in mind.

It's universal...

It is universal...and it changes you. In the past six months, I feel like I have become a different person. Maybe I have become more patient, tried to become less judgmental, and more open and accepting of what is out there to enhance my life. I try to see people as if they're doing the best they can with where they're at in life. Whether I agree with what they do is irrelevant, as theirs is not my life to judge. I'm only doing the best I can with where I am in mine.

"The tragedy of life is what dies inside a human while he is alive." ~Albert Schweitzer

As Paul Dietz says, "Enjoy the journey." He is right. Enjoy, indeed.

Keep learning with an open mind. It just keeps getting better...