Last year, as so much was happening in our lives, I had a difficult time concentrating on what I was doing with Tweed. I sought help from my longtime trainer to be my eyes on the ground and keep us safe, but keep us going. I had to be laser focused on my daughter and grandson,...(well, I still do), but I didn't want to let Tumbleweed sit.
The first day of preschool, October 8th, I missed my sweet grandson so much, but I also had such a feeling of freedom. I loaded Tweed right up and went to the equestrian park. Our time was our own again, and uninterrupted, at least for two days a week.
Autumn 2024: I have changed. I don’t feel the same need for help. I have a different need for autonomy with Tweed, a need to find our own unique way through this. I feel confident again, yet I don’t regret how I survived to get here. I feel like a child again, and eager.
I wonder how many times we are reborn in life? By that I mean, a major life event radically shifting our perspective. To come out on the other side of it, and emerge healed, or on the road to healing. To look back and realize how powerless we were, ...or still are, and yet, to be okay with that, maybe even comforted by it. I'm more grateful on the other side.
Tweed seems different, too. He's more relaxed and in tune with me. We both lost Cowboy and Little Joe this year, leaving Tweed as the only male in a mare herd,... maybe we find ourselves more in need of each other than we were a year ago.
Last Thursday, I had the greatest day with Tumbleweed. When we arrived at the park, I didn't want to warm him up in the round pen, or even on the obstacle course. It didn't seem right.
When I unloaded him, we just kept walking.
(Tweed has a sad face because I told him to stand there while I walked in front of him to get his photo. He's being a little pouty.)
And walking.
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And walking.
Finally, when we were done walking, I saddled him and rode off again.
We bushwhacked and rode up and down hills, through trees, over logs--we went where the wind blew us. Not a care in the world. Just pure happiness.
As we were returning to the trailer, and it was in sight, I wondered if Tweed would pick up his pace and get barn sour for it, but the exact opposite happened. He slowed down and looked over at the path going away from it like, Let's keep going, please.
Cowboy used to do that, too, and I take that as a very good sign for our future.
I think with life shakes up it impacts our confidence. Last year you needed support while you were giving it. This year you e found your footing. That looks like a lovely place to ride and breathe in the air.
ReplyDeleteThanks. Yes, it is a beautiful equestrian park. I chose the house we’ve lived in for 18 years, based upon its proximity to it. The BCH has improved it a lot since then. They built the obstacle course and round pen, and improved the arena. The trails go for about 25 miles, with many other arterials, but after a certain point it is mixed use. Your horse has to be okay with bikes, hikers, and runners. Tweed and I ran into a runner that day and I turned him and followed her at a distance to build his confidence. He did good.
DeleteEveryone has tough times but it's all a part of life. If we're strong enough and confident in ourselves we will come out better for the experiences and be all the better for it. Since my husband passed last year there have been many new experiences to go through and adjust to but as you say you can be grateful to have gotten through the worst of it. You have such a wonderfully beautiful place to ride. Love that Tweed wanted to keep going!
ReplyDeleteI wish you still had your blog. I had no idea you were going through so much this year. Yes, every tough time has the potential to change us in some new way, hopefully, for the better. I saw a meme the other day, a quote by Viktor Frankl, “The meaning of life is to give life meaning.” I thought, how true, and he did it in the worst situation possible. One gift of hard times is gratitude for every little thing around you that brings happiness. I believe Frankl found that out in a concentration camp. Sending a hug across the miles for you, as you walk this new chapter of life. I know you are a strong woman!
DeleteI have had several of those perspective shifting moments. I do think they are a art of gaining wisdom as we age. This latest bout of illness brought several things into focus for me that had been at the back of my mind for a while.
ReplyDeleteLove that you and Tweed went for a walk first- sometimes connecting with your horse isn't about how well a ride went, it's about the quality time you spend together even on something as simple as going for a walk. I used to take Beamer for walks too, and it's something I like to do with new horses or with Gussie when she hasn't been ridden for a while.
Tweed is getting more and more like his daddy.
Tumbleweed and Beamer. Love. Love. Love. That is why I was drawn to him.
DeleteThat idea of connection is so BIG, yet so glossed over. I read a few of my older posts about that, way back in 2019, when I had the benefit of perspective. I had more wisdom then than I do now. Life can make us like children again, relearning old lessons. My hope is that those lessons will grow deeper every time around.
Walking our horses is the greatest “warm up” we will ever do.
One of my friends is a country music writer from Newfoundland, and he wrote a song with this line- " If I only knew now what I knew then" . I always loved the wisdom of that line, it shows us how we tend to forget things in our struggle to advance.
DeleteOh, that’s good! Put another win on the board for country music!
DeleteNo doubt some changes in life are harder than others. Shaping us into who we become. Among other things, teaching us appreciation. It is nothing short of delightful that you and yours are in a better place in life. You got great photos of Tweed on your special walk-a-bout. Love that your partnership continues to form deeper!
ReplyDeleteDeeper appreciation is definitely a gift. It brings the world alive and even seems to slow down time.
DeleteTweed sure is a sweetie. He’s young and gives me so much to look forward to, as I knew would be the case when I decided to buy him the day he was born. I figured, way back then, that I’d need him as a bridge. Boy, has he ever been that these last three years! You have the same situation with your Hope.