The Goal Has Been Reached, And I Am Better For It

Doesn't everything die at last, and too soon? 

Tell me, what is it you plan to do 

with your one wild and precious life?

—Mary Oliver, The Summer Day

I know my days on earth are finite.  The average lifespan of a female in the US is 81.2 years.  In other words, 29,638 days.  Of those days, I've already expended approximately 19,000.  Three years ago, I decided to be a better steward of those days, because as Benjamin Franklin so wisely said, "Lost time is never found again."

But there was more to it than that.  It was also this thing I learned long ago--the concept of Time = Love.  Where do you spend your time?  Well, that is what you love.  If not, you are certainly wasting your time, because your soul needs so desperately to do what it loves.  The beings that you love so desperately need your time.  

Today is the 183rd day of my 2018 Challenge.  My personal goal was 183 days of either riding or actively training a horse.  (And when I say training, I mean more than just grooming, feeding, cleaning their stalls.)  Days that I drove up to Canada to see and work with Tumbleweed, were included in that count. 

The Time = Love equation works in several ways  ---

1. It reveals what you love.

2. It makes the thing you love feel loved.

3. It makes you love, the thing you love, even more.

I can tell you that #3 is what has surprised me the most.  The more time I devote to my horses, the more time I want to devote to my horses.  Lucky for me, 2019 will give me that opportunity.

Here is a brief recap of my 2018 Challenge:

Leah

Leah and I had trail ride after trail ride this year.  I learned what a solid mount she is--wherever I took her.  On one ride, we got lost, and we had to ride several miles of paved road with loud trucks going by.  Leah was golden.  We rode Rustler's Gulch during in spring, and then again, in fall during hunting season.  We rode Hog Lake, Fish Lake, James Slavin, Palisades, and Riverside State Park.

I reached day 183, today, with Leah. After working on the touch exercises yesterday, I rode her bareback and practiced the same theme-- "kind" hands.  Riding bareback, I can feel her every twitch--instant feed back if my hands become rough.  Leah is sensitive and she wants to do it right.  Proper release is ever so important--timing--gentle asks--praise.

She responded well to "kind hands," and after our ride, I did a touch session with her.  Look at how relaxed she was. 

Our biggest milestone was opening and closing gates.  Leah would work herself up with gates, and a few years back, she fell over and almost landed on me during gate work--which compounded the anxiety.  This year, we worked step by step, stopping to allow her heart to rest--and soon enough, we had that gate opened and closed.  Once she mastered it and felt confident, gates were no problem.

Beautiful Girl

Things were going really well for Beautiful and I, until I decided to push her too hard.  That earned me a well-deserved "buck off."  Unfortunately, it set us back, but life with horses isn't all about the good things; it's also about dusting ourselves off and starting over.  And, that's where we are.  

My biggest milestone with Beautiful has been forgive and forget.  The forgiving was easy, and the forgetting is coming by replacing that bad memory with new good ones.  

Cowboy

What can I say about my heart horse that I haven't already said?  He has given me wings to fly, and for that I can never repay him.  He is 23 and living on borrowed time with that previously broken and displaced front P3 (coffin bone).  We are 12 years post injury, and everyone who knows how bad it was at the time shakes their head to hear that he's still going.  He also had, and still has, Head Shaking Syndrome--probably from the issues of that P3 that has developed arthritis.  

All that is to say--EVERY DAY IS A GIFT.

My biggest milestone with Cowboy was riding bareback and no reins, something we're still working on together.  That, and riding him bareback on two long trail rides.  Yeah, now that I think back, those bareback trail rides were the pinnacle of our time together this  year.

I've had a lot of time with Cowboy, and there is a lot of LOVE between us.

Tumbleweed

I committed to Tumbleweed the first week of his life.

 I mean, who couldn't fall in love with this sweet soul?

Everything fell into place, like it was meant to be, and the next thing I knew, I was driving to Canada every few weeks to see him.  And, I finally got to meet my blogging friend, Shirley, from Ride a Good Horse.  I had long admired Beamer's babies, and now I have one.  

I love him so much, it scares me.

Today, the vet came to give him shots and follow up wormer.  She did a short physical and thought  he seemed very healthy.  She remarked that he'd grown a lot since she last saw him.  She taped him at 350 pounds a month ago, and now he is taping at 500 pounds.  

I don't know what our future holds, but I'm going to enjoy every minute I'm given.

****

I hate to leave out the rest of the herd, because I have spent time with all of them, and I'm getting ready to start riding Foxy.  She is going to be the horse I use to pony Tumbleweed around.  I have a lesson set up for this Sunday, to help me get used to her, and try out a few different bit options.  She and Tumbleweed are currently sharing a large stall and turnout.

I just realized a 4th thing about Time = Love, and that is, when you do what you love, you are loving  yourself.  

I'll end with an excerpt from my own poem, The Breathing.

I hear their breathing,

each year stronger,

and something like love,

pulling me there.

What is time, 

but a rotation under the sun, 

a perception of what has been, 

a perception of moving 

toward what is to come.

First Ride Since Bailing Off & a New Understanding of What I Need

"Good judgement comes from experience.

Experience comes from bad Judgement.

And sometimes that bad judgement can be pretty horrific."

Val Geissler, Unbranded

A major down-side to getting bucked off so aggressively, was that I was unable to ride for fifteen days.  Of course, I'm very lucky it's not more, but still, it slowed me down and limited me to groundwork.  It would have been better for my confidence to have gotten right back on, but that wasn't possible.

To recap: the body bruising was wide-spread, but most of the pain was in the ribs & liver.  I was on Motrin day and night.  When the ribs started to feel a little better, I stopped the Motrin, and that's when I felt the hip and knee pain.  A few days ago, the knee pain all but disappeared, but the hip pain remains.  Kind of reminds me of last winter when I fell on ice.

Oh, and I almost forgot, while I was on vacation with my kids, I was stung by a hornet on my good arm--and had a bad allergic reaction with lots of swelling.  Five days later, it's still swollen and itchy!  Arghhhhh!

But anyway, all that aside, today was my day to get back on a horse, and I was surprised to find some real self-doubt lingering around.

I chose Cowboy, rather than Leah, since I'm still on the mend, and don't want to get myself into a situation I'm physically unprepared to handle.  But even with Cowboy, the doubts lingered, so I started going down a list of things, in my mind, that might be causing the fear:

Is it a BALANCE issue?  I reminded myself that I have good balance and can ride my horse bareback at every gait.  I can also go from a standing position to a legs crossed sitting position, and up again--without holding onto anything. (I read somewhere that that's a good test of longevity.)

Skill?  I have enough balance and skill, or a better word, experience, to have survived spinning, bucking, and bucking and running--bucking that was so hard, mind you, that my tailbone is still quite sore.  But I was able to navigate all that to the rail, pull her head around, swing myself off with my right arm and land on my feet. (pat self on back again.)

Judgement?  Ah, this is where I couldn't quite assuage myself.  As I was leading Cowboy to the mounting block, I thought back at all the many, many, many times I mounted a horse who was giving me signs that it needed something more--but I mounted anyway and took my chances in saddle.  It always worked out--until the day it didn't.

But with Beautiful Girl, I had been wary of that possibility, and I had hired my trainer to be beside me--to be that extra pair of eyes.

Do you think I'm good to mount?  I'd asked her.

But Rebecca wasn't there that day.  And, I wondered what she would have said if she had been there.

I know the answer.  She would have told me no.  No, Beautiful Girl was not in a frame of mind to go to the next step.

I need to work on that judgement part of my life.  It's almost like turning 50-something has dulled it.  Like it's made me more accident prone.  Why?  What has changed that I'm rushing so head-long out of cars, onto horses, around hornets?  Is it just bad luck?  Or, is it a mind too busy multi-tasking and not "present" enough?  Mindful?

I guess from all these questions, I can already see the answer.  My life is demanding I be more present.

So, I swung my leg over Cowboy and off we went bareback--walk, trotting, practicing our turns with no reins.  My tailbone hurt as I tilted my hips back for the stop, but it was a reminder that my life is fragile.  Its preservation demands my attention--not just with horses---but in ALL things.

I have some changes to make.

If I Can Do It, You Can Do It!

I'm just bumbling along, doing my best with what I know.  For example: riding bareback.  It has become my favorite way of riding.  You don't have to haul a saddle.  You stay warm.  Win. Win.  And, if I can do it--a 50 year old woman, YOU can do it!  (By that I mean those who are wanting to ride bareback already and don't have physical conditions that make this more dangerous.)

Cowboy.

Leah.

Here is a 15 second clip of what it looks like to lope Cowboy bareback.



My tips for riding bareback:

Practice on a rock solid horse.

Grip with your thighs.

Move with your horse.

Don't steady yourself with the reins.

Keep your head up and look where you're riding!! (More important than ever)

Loping is easier than trotting.

*****

Driving your horse in a circle.

For years, I didn't want to drive my horses because it looked so complicated watching the trainers do it.  I'd help out here and there, but I never trusted myself to take the reins.  That all changed when my trainer, Rebecca, taught me to drive a horse in halter.  The fear I had, that I'd create a bad accident, vanished, and that made ALL the difference.

So, say it with me....

If I can do it, YOU can do it!

Here is some video of me driving Bee today.  SPOILER: She was not at her best--which is GREAT, because you get to see the the good, bad and ugly of driving.  And, that's OKAY.

The end of Part 1 was a bit dicey.  Thankfully, we ALWAYS start in halter! You'll have to watch Part 2 if you want to see how we resolved it. (Starts out a bit windy and loud, but gets better a couple minutes into it.  I'll have to make another tape when the weather is calmer. But that's all part of getting out there every day!)



Where'd she go?  Find out in Part 2.

A Week In Snow

The really deep snow, the really slick ice, all coincided with a really sore tailbone.  You could say the fates conspired against me, and my training program, last week.  In fact, as I sat here this morning, I had a hard time remembering what I'd done this week, so I consulted my phone for photos.

Monday, January 8, 2018: Worked Leah and Bee, cleaned the barn, wrote a blog post.

Tuesday, January 9, 2018: Sore tailbone, lots of ice outside, stayed in and cleaned the house, then went to work.

Wednesday, January 10, 2018: Had coffee with my cowgirl friends, then went to work.

Thursday, January 11, 2018: Was supposed to fly out to Omaha, but a storm here, and a storm there, caused us to cancel our flight and stay put, to take care of the horses.  We ended up getting over 6" of snow that day, and we went no where.

Friday, January 12, 2018: The temps started to warm up, and melt everything, and we started digging out of the snow.

(Pictures of the day it started snowing)

Friday afternoon, we went shopping and ended up buying a Nespresso machine.  It makes much richer coffee than Keurig.  The pods are a bit spendy, but the quality of java makes it worth it.

Friday night, my husband and I walked our property in the dark--through the snow--with the dogs at our heels.  The snow makes it bright enough to navigate easily.  After our walk, we had a date in my Cowgirl Cave--scotch, cigars, and the Echo Dot playing a steady stream of Johnny Cash and June Carter Cash.

"Save your love through loneliness, save your love through sorrow. I gave you my loneliness, give me your tomorrow."

Saturday, January 13, 2018--Colt Starting Clinic with Beautiful Girl.

(Bee getting ready to walk over with all the gear.  I have her wear the bridle at all times, to get her used to it. She's really not as thin as she looks in this photo.)

Bee got to stand around a lot while we watched the others work in the round pen.  The snow was coming off the roof, in a loud fashion, and it caused her to pull back several times, but she adjusted.  It was good for her.

What I learned at the clinic was really fine-tuning what I already know:

*When round penning, and she's nervous and not listening, find ways to get her to tune into me--snapping my fingers, waving a hand, lots of transition--whatever works.

*I already do a lot of driving from behind Bee, but we worked on driving her in the circle.  It was good for her because the outside line was on her butt and legs a lot--causing her to kick out and buck a little bit until she got used to it.  It was good desensitizing.  Another participant at the clinic didn't feel comfortable driving her own horse, so I asked if she wanted to practice with Bee.  She did, and they did great together.

Sunday, January 14, 2018:  Ride Cowboy

I remember, not long ago, when I was riding three horses a day.  My tailbone injury, and the ice, has slowed me down.  But I was feeling well enough Sunday to ride Cowboy bareback.

I took it easy and stopped a lot to give him neck massages.  When we were done, I slipped off and gave him a nose to tail T-touch session.  He melted and followed me all over, with his head on my hands, as I tried to gather everything up and leave.  It was so sweet, I couldn't leave him.  So, I sat on my overturned trough and just spent the  most wonderful time being with him.  He was like a puppy.

I was thinking about it last night, as I was trying to fall asleep (a problem I have--thinking too much at bedtime)--I was trying to find a way to describe how my love for Cowboy feels.  First, he has been with me for almost 30% of my life!  That is a lot of wrapping around one another.  And, my journey with him has been so bumpy--times I thought I would lose him, times he surprised me and recovered, scary situations we got ourselves into--fights, makeups, growing old together, sharing pain together.  When I think of love for him, I think of these words:

joy, fragility, hope, sorrow, pride, comfort, awe, vulnerability, heart-bumps, heaven, laughter, miracles, friendship, gratitude.

That was my week in snow, and today the sun is shining super bright--I have the day off--and I'm heading to the barn.  Here's another word--GLORIOUS!

Hope and Possibilities

Yesterday, as I was walking Bee to the barn next door, Cowboy saw us leaving and came running , full out, across the East Pasture to me. He was prancing around and trying to rush through the gate.  He'd just had breakfast, and I didn't have anything he would want.  Not to mention, going to the barn next door always scares him.

Why was he running to me? Why this need to be with me?

I thought, What is this all about?  Is it some harbinger from above? Some warning to be careful with Bee today?  That wasn't too much of a stretch, since I was alone at the barn, should anything happen, and a friend of a friends is in a coma right now from a brain bleed after a horse accident.

After an hour working Bee, where I was very cautious and all went most excellent, I started to walk back home.  While I was still on the neighbor's property, but almost to the gate, Cowboy, who was grazing at the end of the pasture, saw me and again came running, full bore, to the gate!

He was prancing, even dancing, by my side, like I'd been gone for 3 days, he was starving, and I was bringing him food.  Cowboy, I said, what is it with you.  You're acting so weird.  As I lead Bee, he walked with me, through the east pasture, through the turn out, all the way to the gate in front of my tack room.

Bee had  her ears back, as if she was annoyed, but not dangerously so.  She seemed to be saying, Hey, get out of here, bud, this is my time.

I praised her for not kicking out at him.

I unsaddled her as fast as I could, as Cowboy watched us with his head hung over the rail of the fence. Then, I walked back into the turnout, switched Bee for Cowboy, took him over to the overturned trough, stood on the precarious, slick trough asking Cowboy to come closer and closer so that I could swing my leg over his bare back without falling.

He did.

Inch by inch.

I jumped on and we went off on our daily ride through the pastures: walking, trotting, loping.

It was an amazing day with Cowboy, and I couldn't get it out of my heart or mind.  I was tossing and turning in bed last night, and it came to me--how I always say, I think in heaven the horses we loved will come running to greet us.

It’s true.

******

You can imagine, living in "heaven," with a horse like Cowboy calling my name, how difficult it is for me to go to work nowadays.  It's getting harder and harder and harder.  My spirit is home with my horses.  An hour away from them feels like 10 hours.  It's driving me crazy.

My husband has noticed it because we work together--which, of course, is the upside of my work.  He and I have been talking a lot about how to fix it, and we think we have a solution.

I won't know for a few weeks, but we may have found a way to work from home together.

******

The other thing that kept me up last night was wondering if that crazy behavior of Cowboy's was some final goodbye.  Is he going to colic tonight?  Did he have some sense it would be our last together?  (I tend to overthink everything).

I ran out to the barn this morning to see Cowboy, the orphan, the outcast, my heart-horse, before work.  He was healthy and happy.

Bee came to see me, too.

Leah did her best imitation of an ostrich sticking its head in the sand, but for her it was the round bale.

Now, I'm off to work.

Would You Like To Dance?

"So much wasted time."

David Cassidy's last words as he was dying.

When the nurse told me to “go to my happy place,” she said I told her it would be the horses. (My husband and children gave me a bit of grief about that!)  I woke up feeling euphoric, just as the nurse was telling my husband the story. It felt right. It felt like I had truly been with my horses.

I’ve written before about how it feels for me to climb into the saddle—it’s like a swoosh of endorphins flooding my brain. I also have this image of heaven, my herd galloping to meet me when I pass over. It gives me comfort. I love my family with all my heart, but my relationship with the horses is other-worldly. I hope the readers will understand what I mean, and maybe even be able to clarify it more, in the comments section.

Yesterday was the first day I was able to work with my horses—Cowboy, Leah, and Beautiful--since the heart ablation.  I didn’t expect it to be any different, but it was. Something had changed in me, a way of communicating. It's as if, when they fixed my heart, they also helped it to feel more vividly the emotions of my horses.

The idea of The Dance became clearer and shifted from a--

We're going to dance!

To a--

Would you like to dance?

I had more patience to ask and wait for the give.  More patience to see it as a series of dance steps, rather than a whole dance.  And, this great understanding that learning the steps to the dance is not wasted time, but rushing the dance or not dancing at all IS wasted time.

Seeing it that way, I was able to get insight into my relationships the three horses I worked with, and I want to share it and ask you to leave a comment explaining how you see your own dances with your horses.

******

Cowboy.

As I tried to take Cowboy's picture, he wanted to come to me.  He didn't want to graze.  He didn't want to walk back to the herd.  He wanted to dance.  With me.

We are those long-time dance partners you see on the dance floor, feet shuffling back and forth, back and forth, hands held tight--knowing the rhythm, the steps, the give and take.  Imagine the most perfect couple out on the dance floor, the one that just has you mesmerized, and then look over to the side at the ones who aren't that good, but you can tell they've been dancing together for a long time, too.  That is us.  Cowboy and me.  There is still a bit of tension here and there, but we've learned to dance together and we're used to each other.

Cowboy doesn't like the tango.  We don't do the tango.  We only dance the ones he likes.  For the most part, I lead, but there are some steep or rocky sections, where I let Cowboy choose the path, and he always gets us where we need to go.  Opening and closing gates--the tap-tap on his side--he scoots over a wee bit. A gentle squeeze--he takes one step--a gentle squeeze--another step.  He hears me softly say, "Whoooaaaa," and he stands still enough that I can reach down to the chain and unlatch the gate.

Dancing with Cowboy wasn't always this easy or fun, but it is  now.  I wish I'd been a more patient partner in the early days, but he has been forgiving.  Nowadays, we dance as much as we can to keep his body going in his older age. 

****

Leah.

It struck me that I'd been stepping on Leah's toes a lot as we've been learning to dance together.  She's a gentle soul, takes everything deeply, doesn't want to make missteps--and I need to honor that. 

Yesterday, we danced on the ground first.  I worked with her at a trot, in circles, all around the arena.  We danced over the poles, around the barrels, along the rail.  She was a lovely partner.

I wanted a plan in saddle.  What dance would be learning?  Which steps did we need to learn?

I decided the dance was opening the gate (without actually opening the gate), and the steps would be moving off my leg and learning the gentle--one step forward--stop and rest--one more step forward--stop and rest--side pass, side pass--rest--don't be frightened of me bending over--rest--don't be frightened of the sound of the chain clinking against metal--rest. We could call this the waltz, and our practice a dry run.  No music.  No putting the steps all together.  Just work at learning the subtle shifting, counting--gentle pushing away and pulling in.

******

Beautiful Girl.

If you can't dance well together on the ground, how can you possibly dance well in the saddle? 

Bee had a week off, and she was on edge.  She wants to learn to dance, but but she thinks she knows the dance already--and constantly attempts to take the lead from me.  Her dance is one of self-preservation--I heard a sound, let's get the hell out of here!  She is in the early stages of the steps: getting used to the feel of bridle and bit, the tug of a rein, the pressure of a leg, the weight of a rider. 

Yesterday, we worked on the ground dance.  At first her trot was fast and fearful, but we twirled around the arena in circles until she slowed down and tuned into her dance partner.  At that point, she watched the up and down of my left hand as it urged her to continue forward over poles and tires.  She felt the tug of my right hand guiding her forward, then into a circle, then forward, then over a pole, then forward, then into a circle--and so on. 

We have quite a few steps to learn together, but working with her, and the others, is my happy place.  Why rush the dance?  Those older couples you see on the dance floor probably didn't look so great when they were first learning.  The element of TIME is essential. Forgiveness.  Togetherness. And just plain wanting to dance together in the first place. 

This is not wasted time. 

It's precious time.