It's interesting to start a blog with an existing library of writing. The order of publishing becomes a question. Do I publish as if I had been doing this all along or categorize in some way? Today, I am going to post an early story and today's story. I am still on the hunt for my first story, written when I was about ten. The first essay was written for a book club idea a few years back. Everyone was to write a story or stories and we would bind them into a little book. Life got in the way and that did not happen, but my story did. I had thought it might be an intro to blogging about my horse experiences, but that was too organized somehow. I am much preferring the focus on writing essays of the moment. Anyway, the horse story:
One day, I thought “there must be more to riding a horse than just sitting on it.” I had no idea what that simple thought would lead me to learn about myself and life. It led to new experience and knowledge about passion, patience, proprioception, physiology, psychology, pain and, most specifically, owning a horse.
My journey from not owning a horse to intensely owning a horse started with a grief counselor’s exercise. My husband had died the year before, and I was not so much needing help with grief as finding my way out of the doldrums and back something that felt like “forward.” A significant issue was, having been such a tight pair, everything in my life now seemed only half there. I needed something new for me to become a new me.
Originally, I tried going to a gym and seeing a personal trainer. It was awful. I was bad at it and the workouts just got harder. Turns out I have mild cardiac artery disease, thus the harder part, but I also found no joy in the workout routine. This was not the boost I needed, especially since I lost zero weight for all that miserable working out and after eighteen months was no stronger or healthier. During the last twelve months of that episode, I also started eating vegan. Both empty attempts to find brightness and that feeling of forward.
Grief counseling came next, replacing both failed experiments. It was at the session that Joan encouraged me to find something new that my life took a new path. She wanted me to start looking for an activity that I would at least like to try, and that filled the gaps in my life.
It must be noted that I am an inveterate researcher. My online journey to find a new activity led to a list of 75 possibilities, both indoor and out, including archery and kayaking (I had terrible shoulder mobility at the time and cannot swim), knitting and painting (I don’t wear sweaters and do arts and crafts but don’t have a drive to do that) and another 71 items that ranged from playing bridge to walking clubs. One day, that thought about horseback riding popped into my head.
To this day, I cannot fathom what brought it on. It was just there. I hadn’t been a “horsey” girl. Oh, I had one plastic Palomino that I had given away to someone who did like horses a few years back. I did one paint-by-number that was also a Palomino. And I had a book called “The Sun Horse” featuring, you guessed it, a Palomino. But these were from scattered times in my youth and never led to asking for a pony of any color, or even wanting to ride. The closest I came to anything horse-related was the hours spent watching Westerns with my grandfather. I did get a cap gun, because I wanted to be the sheriff.
Yes, I had been on a horse. I think about six times. But what brought this thought now? I was 58 years old and hardly in shape to ride horses. It would not go away. I shared this at my next counseling session and Joan encouraged me to find out more. Hurray, more research! I learned that many of the farms in the area were disappearing to housing and industry. I learned that the horse industry does not have a big presence online, curbing my urge to know more. I learned that many of the area’s trainers only work with children. I learned that there are books about learning to ride, and even learning as an adult. Books – research was back.
I have always been more about books and learning than doing. Being a long-time Amazon.com customer (and, now, employee), books were just a click away, as were all the Internet resources. This was not, however, getting me on a horse. An interesting turn in the journey was that old-fashioned social connections were the key to moving forward. I asked friends in the area if any of them knew of places to learn to ride. Most did not. A few had tips that weren’t to pan out. One, that glorious one, led to the tried-and-true chain of knowledge that is the real social network. People who know people.
A good friend (1) had a colleague at work (2) who has a sister (3) who owned a horse that she kept at her mom’s (4) and the mom asked their farrier (5) who knew a trainer (6). Actually, two trainers. The farrier told the mom who told the daughter who told the sister who told the colleague who told me. I called the first one and within ten minutes my life changed forever. The fast-forward version is I instantly took to the trainer, Rachel, made an appointment, drove to the farm a day ahead to check it out and – insert the record scratching sound that they use to indicate a stop in the flow – there was a Palomino in the field. Do you believe in signs? I don’t, but there was one anyway. Footnote that’s not a footnote – the horse was actually in the field next door, but let’s not quibble with details.
Rewind back a bit. During that first exploratory call, there were two important changes in my life. I set up an appointment to have a riding lesson, but I also met Rachel, the woman who has become my friend, who sold me her horse (I joke that we have a child in common), is my mentor for everything equine, and set me on a path to my new life. The world can turn on a simple 10-minute call. I knew, somehow, that I would be in good hands.
Before we venture into, as Paul Harvey used to say, the rest of the story, I want to wrap up one bit about the grief counseling because of the many connections in this story. After I got into it with a couple of lessons, and was hooked (I mean seriously loving an activity), I shared that enthusiasm with Joan. I learned that in a prior phase of her life, she had been a horse trainer. Isn’t that an amazing coincidence? We talked about that list of 75 things from her assignment, and how horseback riding was not on the list, but had mysteriously asserted itself anyway. She flat out said that she knew she would lose me as a client now as I moved toward horses.
Joan understood the attraction, and she was right. I had found my path and my passion, and a new lease on life. It’s not that the grief was gone, but it no longer resonated through my existence. Also, I was done with the exploration and research and, yes, the introspection. I was a doer now instead! Scratch that, I still research and have a bookcase full of horse-related books from Greek General Xenophon’s treatise written in about 350BC to examples from some of the more accomplished trainers of more recent times. But I take all of that and translate it into improving my riding and horsemanship.
All of that, is how I got to “the horse.”
Here we start at the new beginning. It’s a bit of a winding story beginning with Rachel, my trainer. The interesting thing about working with Rachel is her calm. It is her natural state. I’m not afraid of much, and never have been afraid of horses, cows, sheep, pigs, etc. Here I was, 58 years old and 5’2” tall. Horses are big and tall, and I simply had no fear in their presence. Rachel’s method of working with her students, and horses, does nothing to create fear, stress or tension. I knew some of that from our ten-minute conversation by instinct. I saw it in the early lessons and it is a hallmark of how my horsemanship has evolved. Horses respond well to calm.
The first two horses I rode – no, not Palominos – were what we (yes, I am a horse person now, so it is we) call lesson horses. They know what to do so, even if you don’t, you get things done and you are riding. I felt as if I belonged up there on those mighty steeds. A few times I’ve been told that I ride as if I’ve ridden throughout my life, and not just a little under five years. From the first lesson, Rachel gets you right on the horse and into the basics of how to ride. It’s something you must experience and do. It’s all about the feel. Now I will spend the rest of my life working to get and improve that feel.
Learning to ride is a lifetime endeavor. No matter when you start, or how long your lifetime is, becoming one with the horse is a lifetime prospect. Riding a horse is an art form. There is always something new to consider, add or imagine. Unlike almost anything else, though, in this case your instrument of achievement has a body, a mind, and a mood of its own. The sentiment of that sentence needs to stand alone.
In horseback riding, you are sitting many feet in the air on an incredibly complex 1000-pound living being with a mind that is driven both by instinct and thought. The instinct being primarily fear-based and the thought being so incredibly in the moment as to be almost unfathomable by us mere humans.
The first time you do that, you really don’t even know what you’ve signed yourself up for. I was lucky, blessed, fortuitous, whatever adjective works here, to find Rachel. After a lifetime around horses and half a lifetime teaching, she can put someone on one of those marvelous creatures and immediately explain how to ride and be safe. Without that, I don’t know if I would have found the passion or not. There is something indescribable, it must be felt to be understood, about the human connection to a horse. Especially if you have no reason to be afraid.
Remember my first thought on this path? There must be more to riding a horse than just sitting on it? There is so much more. Since day one, I’ve described it as your body doing 42 different things at the same time. Forty-two is a metaphor but not far off. Fingers, wrists, forearms, biceps, shoulders, neck, head, spine, back, glutes, pelvis, thighs, knees, calves, ankles, feet, toes, eyes, ears, breath and brain are all involved and most often each has a separate part to play in the activity. All of these are working independently and in concert, while the horse has multiple parts moving independently and in concert, and then there is the joining of the two. Oh, and internal pieces are involved including these critical parts of your core called psoas. Who knew? I cringe when anyone says something about riding a horse is easy because all you are doing is sitting on it. Well, that’s one way to do it, but not the best, the right, or the truly satisfying way to be on and with a horse.
I have learned that your “core” is an essential part of riding. Both for riding well and for doing it safely – aka not falling off. But a strong core also leads to the oneness with a horse. Being with the movement of a horse is so much satisfying for you both. Suddenly, you are no longer a person riding a horse, you are a symphony making music.
Having found my passion on the back of a horse, I felt like I was flying. No, I don’t Gallup. I’m now over 60 for pete’s sake! I started with the horses just walking and it felt like we had wings. Trotting was the same. Loping brought laughter to my lips. It was all just a delight. And still is.
What I’m going to tell you now causes some to just roll their eyes at me. Maybe you too. The smell of the horse, the fell of the horse, the breath of the horse, and the silent communication, are all healing. Even as I began in those early days, and enjoyed it, I never thought it would go far, and would have rolled my eyes at anyone else saying those things. But it grabs you, it holds you tight, and it does not let you go – this feeling, this connection, this intertwining.
To get back to the practical, it turns out I’m good with horses, both handling and riding. I attribute that to my excellent trainers and the good foundation. Notice I said trainers? This story, this life, continues because of my real trainer and partner in this journey. That is the inimitable Satin Poco Chexolena, aka Velvet. She is a black, American Quarter Horse mare of foundation standing (93% or more QH bloodline) foaled in 2005. She came into my life about six months after I started riding, having spent about eighteen months as Rachel’s horse. Needing a new home, Rachel felt we would be a match, and we were and are. It hasn’t always been easy learning to ride with Velvet. She is not one of those lesson horses who just does what you intended. The stories I could tell about my experiences! She requires me to provide the right cues and to know what I am doing. Definitely not just sitting on the horse – it won’t work. That is the best training I could ask for.
Now we are partners. She and I have trained together for nearly five years. We have both advanced beyond my early capabilities and her being unsure about this human. Horses are, for the most part, incredibly patient with us as we must learn together. You must ride to learn but you must learn, also, about horse physiology and psychology. Additionally, I train at Pilates weekly to strengthen my core so that I sit on her the best I can for her health. We train together as many days a week as we can. There is a lot more to this story, and so many tangents to explore and stories to tell about horses, but this is how that simple thought got me to my life with horses and, specifically, Velvet. Yes, there is so much more to riding than just sitting on a horse. There is passion, there is connectedness, there is healing, there is life.
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