ReBorn Again

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.

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.

Older, but Not Wiser

I ran into a friend yesterday, before my solo ride with Tumbleweed, and as we were talking, she said that she is happy to now be "older and wiser" and confident in her horsemanship, and knowledge of her own horse. She rode away on her beautiful boy, and they did, indeed, look like a great partnership.

But it left me wondering, Am I older and wiser? 

That question rattled around in my brain all day.

Tweed and I had a great time together. We started at the obstacle course, where he was able to open and close the rope gate for the first time ever. He opens real gates like a PRO, but the rope gate has always freaked him out.

Not yesterday.

Does that make me wiser? Or, does it make him wiser?

Today, the answer finally came to me.

No, I'm not wiser. 

Life, and horses, are always knocking me off of whatever perch I think I've ascended to. I am most often as helpless as a baby, and as vulnerable, too.

But I don't let that stop me. In fact, I always feel like I'm starting again.

Starting, and starting, and starting...forever.

Tumbleweed and I did a short ride alone together, and when it was done, I replaced the screensaver on my phone.

We are starting again, again. 

New ears. New eyes. New journey.