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"...