Carter's story

12-8-14

I saw a unicorn stopping traffic on the way to EQUU8 Murrieta today.

You thought I was crazy, didn't you...

I had a sneaking suspicion that the unicorn was just foreshadowing that something rare and magical was going to happen.

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.

***

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.

Patience and Lightness

On Friday, I decided to be better prepared for Saturday's lessons with Cherry, so as a good instructor should, I spent a "schooling session" with her this afternoon I equipped her with a bareback pad and the hackamore (the jaquima, a bosal hackamore...not the mechanical variety that has flooded the horse industry). Due to her severe underbite, I'd rather not use a bit on her. She goes pretty well in the bosal, but last week she was heavy and a little unresponsive with one of my students. She was also in heat. But then she was amazing with another student, following her 5-year-old leader over a tarp.

Trust

I started with leading her and asking her to trot alongside me and transition to the walk when I slowed down. She was quite compliant and maintained a good expression. She picked me up from the fence without trouble. Once on her back, I began picking up a soft feel and waiting various spans of time for her to give to the pressure of my hands taking the slack out of the reins. Waiting with more patience than I think anyone has ever given Cherry, she eventually softened, and softened, and softened. I watched our shadow to ensure my timing was appropriate with my releases. She began licking and chewing after I gave her a big release for Cherry putting slack into the reins.

I rode her and worked on keeping her straight and centered, leg yielding, and bending...always conscious of the need to release when she complied with what I asked. And then I asked with less by opening a leg rather than squeezing her to yield from the other. Sometimes, she moved through the open door. If she missed it, I would bring the other leg to her side and lightly send her into the open space.

This isn't the lightest any horse has ever been with someone, but this is the lightest I've felt from Cherry, I thought.

I need to get Drifter out.

So I found a good spot to stop Cherry with softness. She didn't stop soft, so I waited for her to back off of my hands.  She is a good horse. Unbelievable she's a rescue. Her riders need to be respectful with her because I know she will respond.

Drifter was soon in hand and ready to go. I am certain that my groundwork can get lighter with him. I walked toward him and he stepped away, rocking back to sink a hind foot in the dirt while moving his front feet around. I pulled on the leadrope but immediately stopped and refocused, then stepped away from him and he followed, and then toward him while he kept the same distance stepping away from me.

The tarp has been sitting in the middle of the arena for a week. Drifter is not progressing very well to walking over it. He placed a quarter of a front hoof on it a few days ago, but hasn't offered since. I keep hearing my mentor's voice in my head, "don't make it about the tarp." So as I worked on maintaining this beautiful space between us, we floated around the arena in a dance, and edged our way closer and closer to the tarp.

I felt my own anxiety rise by getting too close to the tarp. I didn't want to ruin the moment, but as I looked at Drifter's soft eye and ear cocked toward me, I could see that he was not focused on the tarp. I guided him away from it and decided that in time, we will cross the tarp with complete trust. But this was not going to be that time.

I got on him with the same minimal tack I used on Cherry. My intent was to ride with "as little as it takes to get a change" and he responded with amazing lightness. But then I became aware of my own lightness. No sooner did I open a rein was he already meeting me at the intended destination. And again, we floated. Sometimes slowing down can really teach you something.

EQUU8's excited horsemanship lesson kids want to go fast and do all the things they see on TV or in the movies. But I think slowing down and letting them explore this is going to be very beneficial. And these early lessons are preparing me for my upcoming therapeutic session that starts mid-April.

On Saturday morning, I started my student with groundwork, then showed her how to get a soft feel and a one-rein stop. She could feel Cherry get light in her hands. She might not know exactly what that means yet, but she smiled when it happened.

I will let photos of Saturday's lessons speak for themselves. It was a good day.

Waiting for softness

A quiet moment

Responsibility and building strength

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.

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...