It is Spring. After a long, hard winter it has finally arrived...at least meteorologically. The calendar says it arrives today. It is the Vernal Equinox, one of the two times of year when there's roughly the same amount of day hours as there are night hours. Equinox is the "equal" part, but I had to look up vernal. Since the Equinox in Fall is the Autumnal Equinox, I assumed vernal had something to do with spring, and so it does. The dictionary describes it as being related to spring, and to new beginnings and to youth. Ah, sweet youth.
Is it a strange coincidence that this particular Spring arrives with the world in quite a mess? What is the message of Mother Earth that this time of new beginnings should appear to be all about endings? Tragedies abound, human suffering is escalating, the rich are getting richer and the poor are getting poorer and now the United States is engaged in another war. One wonders why one should get out of bed in the morning. We watch in fascination as the media numb us with more and more detail -- fiction or fact? -- about the unending crises going on around us.
Yes, change is certainly in the air. The birth pains of new beginnings are quite severe and come with obvious endings, endings that are signalling that perhaps a certain way of being is over. No doubt about it, there is great tragedy in what is happening in the world. Economies are collapsing along with homes, governments and ways of life.
We live in cycles of death and life, and death and life again. It is circular, with each ending being the beginning. They co-exist and define each other, as do dark and light and love and fear. Flip sides of the same coin, or different places on the same Wheel of Life. But there's always Hope, isn't there?
I think I reject the concept of hope. Hope is always putting expectations into the future. Hope is never about now, it's about later. Our leaders tell us to maintain hope but hope does not heal the now. Hope is an outgrowth of despair and despair is an expression of giving up. Promise us anything...nothing...but hang on to hope.
This may seem a bit harsh, for often we feel as if all we have left is hope. We hope that loved ones are still alive, when feared lost. We hope that we will find a job. We hope that we will not lose our homes. We hope for a cure for a disease. We hope we will find love, and peace, and happiness, and safety.
My point is that being told to have hope reminds me of my Catholic upbringing. We were taught that life here pretty much stinks. It's hard and painful and full of sorrow, but when we die we will go to Heaven if we've followed the rules. So, see? It may be harder than Hell (literally) while we're here on Earth, but hope for a brighter tomorrow -- when you're dead.
Not much comfort in today's sorrows when the best you can come up with is that it will all be better when you're dead. Not for me, anyway.
One of the small chuckles I have about my horse is that her name is Autumn. But her birthday is now, in the Spring. In just a couple of days she will be ten years old. She and I have been together for nearly five years. We have had many ups and downs, moments of disagreement, lessons, fears, pains, doubts and joys. She is my friend, and I trust that I am as good a friend to her as she is to me.
So I look at this particular Spring, when chaos and tragedies swirl around the planet like a maelstrom of gigantic proportions, and think about Autumn. How it is true that I miss her when I don't see her for a few days. How, after a ride, and she is back in her stall munching on hay, she will look at me with a "you may go now...I am finished with you" look on her face. How, when I am with her, all those sorrows are forgotten for awhile.
To say that I hope that she and I are together for a very long time, is to admit fear that we will not. To say that I hope that we both stay healthy enough to continue as we do, is to acknowledge possible change. To say that I hope I will be able to afford to keep my friend, is to express an unimaginable, although perfectly possible, scenario.
Therefore, I will reject hope. Because, to acknowledge the hope is to acknowledge the doubt and the fear. The better choice, I believe, is to believe. To believe is to be present in today. I choose to believe that whatever happens to Autumn and me, it will be for the highest good of both of us. That will be true if, each day, I make choices based on those "highest good" intentions. Oh, maybe you think there's a lot of hope in believing. Maybe it is just words. But words are powerful and words carry energy.
You might think this is splitting hairs. What's the difference between hope and belief? Who cares? And what does it have to do with horses? I just need to get through today!
Horses do seem to magnify all the other aspects of our lives. Fear about one thing seems to get bigger when it translates to the horse world. Our horses force us to look inside ourselves and examine what we fear, what we believe, what we aspire to and what we intend. If something is amiss with the relationship you have with your horse, look a little harder and I feel you will discover the area of your life that needs a little work. Or play.
We try to live with compassion and empathy towards others, and appreciate it when it comes our way when it's our turn to take a hit or two. In some fashion or another, each ending of one phase of our life -- each tragedy, each loss, each sorrow -- morphs into the beginning of the next.
So perhaps it is appropriate that this Spring is witness to all these chaotic events. With all the endings there are many new beginnings. Vernal also means relating to youth. We are young again, in the Spring. We are being given the opportunity to begin again, perhaps whether we wanted to or not.
Look at it this way, in Horse World Spring means mud. Not just mud, but MUD. This is a very happy time for a horse. Horses are shedding all that winter hair and they itch and mud is soooo delightful to roll in to get rid of that itch! Then we come to the barn and shriek about all the mud and how we're losing our boots out in the paddock and how we'll have to spend a lot of time scraping all that mud off and...finally, we get the thrill of a ride on a beautiful Spring day.
The world is shrieking now, and with good cause. There's a lot of mud to be scraped off. But maybe, just maybe, it will mean a beautiful new beginning. Then we'll all go for a ride and enjoy the sun.
Sunday, March 20, 2011
Tuesday, January 18, 2011
Injuries
In sports, you hear the phrases "playing hurt" versus "playing injured." One can manage to suck it up, apparently, if you are hurt, and continue on. However, if you are actually injured, you either are not suiting up to play at all, or you are possibly getting carried off on a stretcher.
Being hurt and continuing to play the game seems to endow some sense of toughness, courage and potential hero-ness on the athlete. Getting injured, however, seems to just be an unfortunate accident (however intentional or unintentional) that leaves no chance for heroics or proving toughness. You just have to (hopefully) heal and wait it out. Sit on the sidelines. Watch other people play. Hope your career isn't over.
Horses, being the magnificent athletes that they are, have a magnificent propensity for getting hurt. And, unfortunately, that sometimes extends to being injured. For a creature whose every fiber is geared toward survival, they have an amazing ability to throw caution to the winds and find themselves stuck in a fence, fallen into a hole, gouged open from stem to stern by a horse-eating fence post, chewed up and kicked the crap out of by their buddies in playtime...in short, they get a lot of injuries. They are afraid of everything, except, apparently, that which will actually harm them.
That all makes veterinarians happy, but maybe not in the middle of January at 3 a.m. on a Sunday. Going out to some pasture in the cold and the dark can only be so much fun. I'm sure they all have a lot of stories that would border on the unbelievable.
Vet bills are a fact of life if you own a horse. Better budget it in because you will need one to call at some point, just like you need hay for them to eat and that hay will get pooped out as manure. Consider yourself blessed if you are able to patch up any cuts and do without professional services. Also consider yourself blessed if your beloved 4-legged lives a long, happy, relatively injury-free life. That's true for all our animal companions, of course. I think it is one of the cruelest of ironies that most often we are forced to outlive our animal friends.
Grief for our animal friends is unlike any other kind of grief, I believe. I can uncontrollably burst into tears at the sight of a dead cat on the side of the road, while remaining fairly stoic about yet another murder that takes place. Do we pour our hearts out for these animals because they rely so much on our kindness, our good will, our sense of responsibility? Is it that I feel so much grief because I feel they were let down and/or betrayed by humans who so carelessly took their life?
If I feel so sad and horrible for the death of an anonymous animal, obviously the death of one's own friend is sooooo much worse. All of the human emotions are present: guilt, doubt, regret, loss, sorrow. Does this grief reinforce our humanity? Are they helping us to be better humans?
So, when injuries come along, there's a whole lot of emotion that goes with it. Unfortunately, as in the case of human injury, one of the first questions is "Can I afford it? How much treatment can I buy?" As is also true of the human world, the more you can pay the more treatment is available. Anything that can be done to humans by and large can be done to animals, if you are willing and able to pay for it.
Of course, the animal doesn't have any voice in this. Sending your horse, or dog or cat or gerbil to animal heaven is often the kindest, sanest choice to be made. Too bad that's not an option with humans.
A couple of years ago Autumn managed to get a huge (I thought so, anyway) laceration of her lower eyelid. It required a vet call, emergency stitches, loads of medications and lots of anxiety. Not to mention money. That would have been fine if it had proceeded the way it should: heal up, stitches removed, happy horse/happy owner. Go riding.
Alas, things often do not progress the way we want. Long story short: screw-ups. Not mine. What should have taken maybe 2 weeks to recover from, ended up being over 2 months, closer to 3. One month of that was spent with her at the vet clinic. Horrible. Possible loss of eye or vision. Thinking I might have a half-blind horse. Well-intentioned people saying "Oh, there are lots of horses with only one eye." This was supposed to be comforting??!!
The relatively good news is I still have a horse with 2 eyes, albeit one of them has 2 scars on her cornea that was a result of the vet care. Yes, mistakes happen. I am mostly angry with myself that I wasn't more assertive and demanding and a big pain in the butt about what was happening. Lesson learned. I hope. But I'm still angry.
Yes, we all play hurt or even injured sometimes. Sticks and stones do break bones, but words and actions break hearts and spirits. We carry on as if we were not hurt. We pretend that there are no injuries. The physical ones are apparent, but we learn to hide the others. We do not wish to appear vulnerable, lest we get hurt again.
One of the hardest things about this whole horse riding thing is we cannot fake it. Horses can be amazingly kind when they know you are trying to pretend you are not afraid, or sad, or angry. But they can also call your bluff and say "Sister, I ain't buying it. Go ahead and feel what you feel -- just don't pretend you aren't feeling it." Hence, the therapy aspect. We must own our feelings in a genuine way and work with it.
I admire Tim Gunn, the fashion consultant with the maxim of Make it Work. He means making the most of the situation and somehow bringing it together to get good results. This should be applied to all aspects of life and I find it particularly apt with horses.
Being hurt and/or injured requires truthfulness. Deal with the situation, honestly feel what you feel, and move on. Let go of what does not serve the situation or you. Do not let the injury scar you for life.
And don't run into fences or fall into holes!
Being hurt and continuing to play the game seems to endow some sense of toughness, courage and potential hero-ness on the athlete. Getting injured, however, seems to just be an unfortunate accident (however intentional or unintentional) that leaves no chance for heroics or proving toughness. You just have to (hopefully) heal and wait it out. Sit on the sidelines. Watch other people play. Hope your career isn't over.
Horses, being the magnificent athletes that they are, have a magnificent propensity for getting hurt. And, unfortunately, that sometimes extends to being injured. For a creature whose every fiber is geared toward survival, they have an amazing ability to throw caution to the winds and find themselves stuck in a fence, fallen into a hole, gouged open from stem to stern by a horse-eating fence post, chewed up and kicked the crap out of by their buddies in playtime...in short, they get a lot of injuries. They are afraid of everything, except, apparently, that which will actually harm them.
That all makes veterinarians happy, but maybe not in the middle of January at 3 a.m. on a Sunday. Going out to some pasture in the cold and the dark can only be so much fun. I'm sure they all have a lot of stories that would border on the unbelievable.
Vet bills are a fact of life if you own a horse. Better budget it in because you will need one to call at some point, just like you need hay for them to eat and that hay will get pooped out as manure. Consider yourself blessed if you are able to patch up any cuts and do without professional services. Also consider yourself blessed if your beloved 4-legged lives a long, happy, relatively injury-free life. That's true for all our animal companions, of course. I think it is one of the cruelest of ironies that most often we are forced to outlive our animal friends.
Grief for our animal friends is unlike any other kind of grief, I believe. I can uncontrollably burst into tears at the sight of a dead cat on the side of the road, while remaining fairly stoic about yet another murder that takes place. Do we pour our hearts out for these animals because they rely so much on our kindness, our good will, our sense of responsibility? Is it that I feel so much grief because I feel they were let down and/or betrayed by humans who so carelessly took their life?
If I feel so sad and horrible for the death of an anonymous animal, obviously the death of one's own friend is sooooo much worse. All of the human emotions are present: guilt, doubt, regret, loss, sorrow. Does this grief reinforce our humanity? Are they helping us to be better humans?
So, when injuries come along, there's a whole lot of emotion that goes with it. Unfortunately, as in the case of human injury, one of the first questions is "Can I afford it? How much treatment can I buy?" As is also true of the human world, the more you can pay the more treatment is available. Anything that can be done to humans by and large can be done to animals, if you are willing and able to pay for it.
Of course, the animal doesn't have any voice in this. Sending your horse, or dog or cat or gerbil to animal heaven is often the kindest, sanest choice to be made. Too bad that's not an option with humans.
A couple of years ago Autumn managed to get a huge (I thought so, anyway) laceration of her lower eyelid. It required a vet call, emergency stitches, loads of medications and lots of anxiety. Not to mention money. That would have been fine if it had proceeded the way it should: heal up, stitches removed, happy horse/happy owner. Go riding.
Alas, things often do not progress the way we want. Long story short: screw-ups. Not mine. What should have taken maybe 2 weeks to recover from, ended up being over 2 months, closer to 3. One month of that was spent with her at the vet clinic. Horrible. Possible loss of eye or vision. Thinking I might have a half-blind horse. Well-intentioned people saying "Oh, there are lots of horses with only one eye." This was supposed to be comforting??!!
The relatively good news is I still have a horse with 2 eyes, albeit one of them has 2 scars on her cornea that was a result of the vet care. Yes, mistakes happen. I am mostly angry with myself that I wasn't more assertive and demanding and a big pain in the butt about what was happening. Lesson learned. I hope. But I'm still angry.
Yes, we all play hurt or even injured sometimes. Sticks and stones do break bones, but words and actions break hearts and spirits. We carry on as if we were not hurt. We pretend that there are no injuries. The physical ones are apparent, but we learn to hide the others. We do not wish to appear vulnerable, lest we get hurt again.
One of the hardest things about this whole horse riding thing is we cannot fake it. Horses can be amazingly kind when they know you are trying to pretend you are not afraid, or sad, or angry. But they can also call your bluff and say "Sister, I ain't buying it. Go ahead and feel what you feel -- just don't pretend you aren't feeling it." Hence, the therapy aspect. We must own our feelings in a genuine way and work with it.
I admire Tim Gunn, the fashion consultant with the maxim of Make it Work. He means making the most of the situation and somehow bringing it together to get good results. This should be applied to all aspects of life and I find it particularly apt with horses.
Being hurt and/or injured requires truthfulness. Deal with the situation, honestly feel what you feel, and move on. Let go of what does not serve the situation or you. Do not let the injury scar you for life.
And don't run into fences or fall into holes!
Monday, January 3, 2011
Faery Horse
I often look at my little spotted wonder horse, Autumn, and wonder "Who are you?" My beliefs are that we are spiritual beings, who occupy these bodies of ours. We need them to learn our life lessons and to fully experience the 3D world in which we live. I don't feel the 4-legged world is any different. They, too, are spiritual beings who occupy a physical body.
I'm convinced I'm addicted to life here on Earth; hence, I have reincarnated many, many times and have had many different lifetimes here on good ol' Planet Earth. How could you not want to take another spin around the planet? It's so beautiful! When you look at the sky and the trees and smell flowers and hear water running...oh, my goodness. Sign me up!!
Certainly, humans have done a good job of messing that up. They're the ones who make me think twice, I'm sure, about ever returning and doing it again. Wars, pollution, crime, waste -- some of our more ugly accomplishments. We just keep doing the same thing over and over again.
Or, maybe I'm just stubborn. I have to keep coming back because so far I haven't gotten it right. Maybe this time I'll be wiser, earlier in life. Kinder. Less afraid.
There I am, up there on a cloud in between lives and one of my pals comes along and says "Hey! Wanna go back again?" "It's going to be fun this time. We'll have a blast. Besides, it wasn't so bad that last time." Hmmm...you mean the one where I was burned at the stake for being a witch? Or maybe the one where I died young, in war? Yikes.
Apparently, amnesia is part of the game in Spirit World, because here I am again. Maybe I thought this time was going to be different. Or, I thought I'd be smarter, tougher, braver, stronger...whatever. Amnesia must be part of the game down here, too, because once we arrive we don't remember anything. We have to start all over, trying to figure it all out and why the heck we are here.
No, I don't think humans come back as dogs, or horses come back as people. I think you work within the energy pool from which you come: human, animal, plant, mineral. Although, I'm sure there must be exceptions. Every rule needs an exception -- that keeps things exciting. It might be very interesting to live a lifetime as a rock in the middle of a desert. Very quiet, I would imagine.
So, when I look at Autumn and wonder who she is, I just don't see a horse.
Usually, I see this delightful being who is living out this lifetime in a very nice little horse suit. She put it on like a suit of clothes and came to this planet to be my pal. God bless her.
But, somehow, she has this different energy about her. We humans are such victims of our own hubris and ego that we often forget that we share this planet with a whole lot of other beings. Some of them we can see and many of them we cannot. I hate to think of their opinions of how we are managing this world of ours...and theirs.
The Faery Kingdom is one such set of beings that share this planet Earth. I don't think they all look like Tinkerbell, although I suppose some of them do. (Oh, Martha is totally daft. Now she's talking about faeries!) They have their jobs to do, which include helping us to learn what we need to learn and caretaking the earth.
So, I think Autumn is from the Faery Kingdom. I think she volunteered to be made physical so that she could share my life in a meaningful way. And teach me stuff. Perhaps she got special dispensation from Horse Spirit to be a visitor in their world this time around.
Yup, I think Autumn is a Faery Horse -- a marvelous hybrid creature that munches hay and poops just like other horses. Or, maybe all horses have a little bit of the faery in them. Is that what makes them so magical? Is it their other-worldliness that appeals to us? Are they a lovely connection to the realms where all is possible and all is magic and all is light and air?
Do they come to us lucky humans to give us what is so lacking in the rest of our lives? The possibility of magic? To remind us that there are many kingdoms that co-exist with us and to treat them all with respect? And to keep us grounded and connected to this wonderful planet on which we live, at the same time?
Autumn is so much a part of my "therapy." She offers healing and companionship and lessons and wisdom. She also offers play and freedom and laughter. Pretty good work for a faery, I think. Like an angel who is getting its wings when you hear a bell ring (thanks, Hollywood), perhaps a horse faery comes to bestow some wings on us.
Every time you hear a rider yell Whoa! Dammit! you can be sure some faery horse is laughing their wings off, and wondering why their human doesn't want to learn to fly.
I'm convinced I'm addicted to life here on Earth; hence, I have reincarnated many, many times and have had many different lifetimes here on good ol' Planet Earth. How could you not want to take another spin around the planet? It's so beautiful! When you look at the sky and the trees and smell flowers and hear water running...oh, my goodness. Sign me up!!
Certainly, humans have done a good job of messing that up. They're the ones who make me think twice, I'm sure, about ever returning and doing it again. Wars, pollution, crime, waste -- some of our more ugly accomplishments. We just keep doing the same thing over and over again.
Or, maybe I'm just stubborn. I have to keep coming back because so far I haven't gotten it right. Maybe this time I'll be wiser, earlier in life. Kinder. Less afraid.
There I am, up there on a cloud in between lives and one of my pals comes along and says "Hey! Wanna go back again?" "It's going to be fun this time. We'll have a blast. Besides, it wasn't so bad that last time." Hmmm...you mean the one where I was burned at the stake for being a witch? Or maybe the one where I died young, in war? Yikes.
Apparently, amnesia is part of the game in Spirit World, because here I am again. Maybe I thought this time was going to be different. Or, I thought I'd be smarter, tougher, braver, stronger...whatever. Amnesia must be part of the game down here, too, because once we arrive we don't remember anything. We have to start all over, trying to figure it all out and why the heck we are here.
No, I don't think humans come back as dogs, or horses come back as people. I think you work within the energy pool from which you come: human, animal, plant, mineral. Although, I'm sure there must be exceptions. Every rule needs an exception -- that keeps things exciting. It might be very interesting to live a lifetime as a rock in the middle of a desert. Very quiet, I would imagine.
So, when I look at Autumn and wonder who she is, I just don't see a horse.
Usually, I see this delightful being who is living out this lifetime in a very nice little horse suit. She put it on like a suit of clothes and came to this planet to be my pal. God bless her.
But, somehow, she has this different energy about her. We humans are such victims of our own hubris and ego that we often forget that we share this planet with a whole lot of other beings. Some of them we can see and many of them we cannot. I hate to think of their opinions of how we are managing this world of ours...and theirs.
The Faery Kingdom is one such set of beings that share this planet Earth. I don't think they all look like Tinkerbell, although I suppose some of them do. (Oh, Martha is totally daft. Now she's talking about faeries!) They have their jobs to do, which include helping us to learn what we need to learn and caretaking the earth.
So, I think Autumn is from the Faery Kingdom. I think she volunteered to be made physical so that she could share my life in a meaningful way. And teach me stuff. Perhaps she got special dispensation from Horse Spirit to be a visitor in their world this time around.
Yup, I think Autumn is a Faery Horse -- a marvelous hybrid creature that munches hay and poops just like other horses. Or, maybe all horses have a little bit of the faery in them. Is that what makes them so magical? Is it their other-worldliness that appeals to us? Are they a lovely connection to the realms where all is possible and all is magic and all is light and air?
Do they come to us lucky humans to give us what is so lacking in the rest of our lives? The possibility of magic? To remind us that there are many kingdoms that co-exist with us and to treat them all with respect? And to keep us grounded and connected to this wonderful planet on which we live, at the same time?
Autumn is so much a part of my "therapy." She offers healing and companionship and lessons and wisdom. She also offers play and freedom and laughter. Pretty good work for a faery, I think. Like an angel who is getting its wings when you hear a bell ring (thanks, Hollywood), perhaps a horse faery comes to bestow some wings on us.
Every time you hear a rider yell Whoa! Dammit! you can be sure some faery horse is laughing their wings off, and wondering why their human doesn't want to learn to fly.
Monday, December 13, 2010
Passings
It's that time of year...the holidays. No matter your tradition, it is a time of remembrance of things past, where you are in the present, and the future yet to come. Scrooge was visited by those three ghosts, as are we each year at this time.
We look forward to January, and the new year, according to our calendar. January was named after the Roman god Janus, who had 2 opposite faces. One looked forward and the other behind. So it is with us, looking back at where we've been and where we think we are going.
This year there have been many passings in and around me, and I feel that's true of just about everyone I know. My mother died. Whatever your relationship is, or was, with your mother, her passing is an enormous milestone. Life changes forever. It changes in ways you can't begin to imagine or comprehend until it happens. It's the big things, yes, like celebrating your first Thanksgiving without her, but really, it is more about the little things.
You are caught unawares many times during the day, transported back to moments in another time and another life, perhaps by a smell or a sound. Something that reminds you of her and all the things that are not about her, even, can send you off in a spiral of memories.
Sometimes the passing of a person in your life is the mourning of what never was, more than what it was. When my father passed away several years ago, I found that I was mourning the relationship I did not have with him. And, I suppose, in doing that I was mourning the one I did have with him. I never really knew him. He was mostly physically absent in my life so he felt like more or less a stranger around whom I had lots of emotional issues.
My mother had an enormous physical presence in my life, but now I am thinking about the emotional vacuum we occupied for much of the time. Who am I, now that I am no longer anyone's child?
I have 2 friends whose mothers also passed away this year. And someone whose father passed away. And several others whose mothers died.
There were unusual passings in my barn this year, too. Unexpected death took the lives of several horses -- the kind of thing that might happen once in a lifetime, happened with some frequency this year.
Species of plants and animals are disappearing from the planet. Maybe the rocks themselves are, too, if anyone is noticing.
It all takes a toll on a person, of course. You find yourself reeling with shock and wondering how much more you can take. This stuff is hard. But you get up in the morning and make sense of your day and do what you do. Or, you try to make sense of your day, anyway.
Sometimes, not much makes sense. I've been thinking lately that the only thing that makes sense to me is being in nature, and/or with my animals. They are not thinking about what happened yesterday, or what will happen tomorrow. They live in the present.
It's hard for us humans to do that. We love to revisit old pains and sorrows and disappointments and regrets, as well as the "good stuff." We sit and fret and worry about the future, and all worry is, as I read somewhere, is putting fear into the future. Don't do that.
These times we now occupy are particularly chaotic, I feel. Leaders and figures of authority are showing us they don't know how to lead and lack any authority save what we give them. They tell us what to do and how to live and we find they are hypocritical about their own lives, and sometimes criminal. We've found that truth and trust are in short supply.
Institutions that have been our safety nets for years are in disarray and are crumbling. All around us the world as we know it is disappearing. "Oh no!" say some. It is just another phase of civilization, and it will straighten itself out again, returning us to "normal." Whatever that is, or was, right? How civilized are we, anyway?
But should it? Are we at a point in our growth as human beings that we are being asked to release what no longer works? Are we being asked to release what does not work for us as individuals and as civilizations? Is it time to start over?
What that means is different to each of us. Releasing the old makes way for the new. If you are in the process of releasing, letting go of what no longer serves you and your spirit, with what are you replacing it?
These are highly creative times. Being forced out of old jobs, old structures and old ways of living are making us get creative about our choices. If your world becomes a blank slate, what pictures are you drawing on it?
Intentions count. Working with Autumn, I find that intentions give focus and focus gives meaning. It brings order out of chaos. Working and playing with her does not permit me to be thinking about yesterday or worrying about tomorrow. I must stay focused or bad things start to happen.
There is a maxim that you are always training your horse, any time you spend with it. You are either training it in a positive way or you are training it not so positively, as in teaching it to do things you do not want. What behavior do you reward? Is that bribe sometimes a reward for unwanted behavior?
Trying to apply that training to myself is not so easy -- and it's not easy with her, to begin with! It takes a long time to undo undesirable behavior, so it is a lot easier to do it right the first time.
I think we are at a cosmic time of starting over, being given a chance to do it right the first time. A lot is passing away: people, institutions, ideas, beliefs, habits, animals. With what are we filling these empty spaces?
The feeling of loss is enormous right now. Many of us have lost much, while others seemingly have escaped it. Appearances are deceiving, however, and don't get into comparing your losses with someone else's. Judgement ends up being pretty hard on the judge, I believe.
Community is the solution. Sometimes, when the leaders get out of the way, people have a gift for finding their own community and making it work. Perhaps we've relied too long on others solving our problems for us, or at too great a distance. Maybe this is a time when we are being asked to look deep within ourselves for what we need and desire to be better people.
Communities aren't necessarily about where you live, but about with whom you interact and support and share ideas. Taking responsibility for ourselves builds strong communities, so that we can help those who need help, and be helped when we need help.
Passings cause reflections and out of reflections come, hopefully, new paths. If we create with joy and focus our intentions to do just that, that's where we'll go.
I have lots of questions...way more than I have answers. Think I'll go to the barn.
We look forward to January, and the new year, according to our calendar. January was named after the Roman god Janus, who had 2 opposite faces. One looked forward and the other behind. So it is with us, looking back at where we've been and where we think we are going.
This year there have been many passings in and around me, and I feel that's true of just about everyone I know. My mother died. Whatever your relationship is, or was, with your mother, her passing is an enormous milestone. Life changes forever. It changes in ways you can't begin to imagine or comprehend until it happens. It's the big things, yes, like celebrating your first Thanksgiving without her, but really, it is more about the little things.
You are caught unawares many times during the day, transported back to moments in another time and another life, perhaps by a smell or a sound. Something that reminds you of her and all the things that are not about her, even, can send you off in a spiral of memories.
Sometimes the passing of a person in your life is the mourning of what never was, more than what it was. When my father passed away several years ago, I found that I was mourning the relationship I did not have with him. And, I suppose, in doing that I was mourning the one I did have with him. I never really knew him. He was mostly physically absent in my life so he felt like more or less a stranger around whom I had lots of emotional issues.
My mother had an enormous physical presence in my life, but now I am thinking about the emotional vacuum we occupied for much of the time. Who am I, now that I am no longer anyone's child?
I have 2 friends whose mothers also passed away this year. And someone whose father passed away. And several others whose mothers died.
There were unusual passings in my barn this year, too. Unexpected death took the lives of several horses -- the kind of thing that might happen once in a lifetime, happened with some frequency this year.
Species of plants and animals are disappearing from the planet. Maybe the rocks themselves are, too, if anyone is noticing.
It all takes a toll on a person, of course. You find yourself reeling with shock and wondering how much more you can take. This stuff is hard. But you get up in the morning and make sense of your day and do what you do. Or, you try to make sense of your day, anyway.
Sometimes, not much makes sense. I've been thinking lately that the only thing that makes sense to me is being in nature, and/or with my animals. They are not thinking about what happened yesterday, or what will happen tomorrow. They live in the present.
It's hard for us humans to do that. We love to revisit old pains and sorrows and disappointments and regrets, as well as the "good stuff." We sit and fret and worry about the future, and all worry is, as I read somewhere, is putting fear into the future. Don't do that.
These times we now occupy are particularly chaotic, I feel. Leaders and figures of authority are showing us they don't know how to lead and lack any authority save what we give them. They tell us what to do and how to live and we find they are hypocritical about their own lives, and sometimes criminal. We've found that truth and trust are in short supply.
Institutions that have been our safety nets for years are in disarray and are crumbling. All around us the world as we know it is disappearing. "Oh no!" say some. It is just another phase of civilization, and it will straighten itself out again, returning us to "normal." Whatever that is, or was, right? How civilized are we, anyway?
But should it? Are we at a point in our growth as human beings that we are being asked to release what no longer works? Are we being asked to release what does not work for us as individuals and as civilizations? Is it time to start over?
What that means is different to each of us. Releasing the old makes way for the new. If you are in the process of releasing, letting go of what no longer serves you and your spirit, with what are you replacing it?
These are highly creative times. Being forced out of old jobs, old structures and old ways of living are making us get creative about our choices. If your world becomes a blank slate, what pictures are you drawing on it?
Intentions count. Working with Autumn, I find that intentions give focus and focus gives meaning. It brings order out of chaos. Working and playing with her does not permit me to be thinking about yesterday or worrying about tomorrow. I must stay focused or bad things start to happen.
There is a maxim that you are always training your horse, any time you spend with it. You are either training it in a positive way or you are training it not so positively, as in teaching it to do things you do not want. What behavior do you reward? Is that bribe sometimes a reward for unwanted behavior?
Trying to apply that training to myself is not so easy -- and it's not easy with her, to begin with! It takes a long time to undo undesirable behavior, so it is a lot easier to do it right the first time.
I think we are at a cosmic time of starting over, being given a chance to do it right the first time. A lot is passing away: people, institutions, ideas, beliefs, habits, animals. With what are we filling these empty spaces?
The feeling of loss is enormous right now. Many of us have lost much, while others seemingly have escaped it. Appearances are deceiving, however, and don't get into comparing your losses with someone else's. Judgement ends up being pretty hard on the judge, I believe.
Community is the solution. Sometimes, when the leaders get out of the way, people have a gift for finding their own community and making it work. Perhaps we've relied too long on others solving our problems for us, or at too great a distance. Maybe this is a time when we are being asked to look deep within ourselves for what we need and desire to be better people.
Communities aren't necessarily about where you live, but about with whom you interact and support and share ideas. Taking responsibility for ourselves builds strong communities, so that we can help those who need help, and be helped when we need help.
Passings cause reflections and out of reflections come, hopefully, new paths. If we create with joy and focus our intentions to do just that, that's where we'll go.
I have lots of questions...way more than I have answers. Think I'll go to the barn.
Monday, November 29, 2010
The Relationship
You know that thing, where couples start to look like each other? Or, dog owners and their dogs bear a striking resemblance? Do we start to morph into the others in our lives, or are we drawn to those that are similar to us in the first place? My cats and I do all have grey hair. They've given me mine.
Maybe it's both, with us naturally seeking out what is most comfortable and relatable to us...which is namely, us! Then, over time, the edges blur and we become more and more alike in our visage.
Considering that, how am I like a small, spotted horse? For I was surely drawn to her, feeling there was some commonality, some thread of similarity, some connection...some spark! Just like a budding romance, I looked into those big beautiful eyes of hers and fell in love. Sigh...
Oh, the times we fall in love, only later to discover how WRONG it was. We kick ourselves to the curb long after it's been done to us, or after we've done it to the so-and-so who broke our hearts. How stupid! How could I have been so wrong? What was I thinking??!!
Been there, right? We let that gleeful spark of recognition, the one that draws us to the perfect mate (oh, he was just so cute...nice...talented...rich...fill in the blank), lure us in and then we start to find those hidden "assets" of this potential partner.
So it is in the horse world as well. We fall in love. Maybe that's more of a woman thing, too. When men go horse shopping, do they fall in love, I wonder? Or are they looking for the equivalent of a mid-life-crisis sports car and a beautiful blonde? Maybe they are completely sensible and get that horse that is the perfect match...and then fall in love with it later.
I don't know. But the women I've come to know in the horse world all fell in love, at least at some point. Sometimes with disastrous results. Some are able to let go, acknowledge it was a mistake, and find another love of their life. Some approach it with "I've been burned before, and I'm not doing that again," trying to be completely sensible. Some have bought the high heels; now it's time for sensible shoes. Others are going to wear those high heels, dammit.
Others fell in love with what appeared, to the cynical observer, to be the completely wrong horse...only to discover that it was indeed the right one after all. I have participated in, and overheard, many discussions about what's wrong with someone else's horse and the relationship it has with the rider. Likewise, I'm sure I've been the subject of many of those discussions.
Initially, I was sooooo sensitive about this stuff. It was embarrassing. It annoyed me. It hurt my feelings. It made me feel wrong and stupid. And stubborn.
Over time, I've come to see that this discussion of other people and their horses is all part of the sorting out process of each person and their own beast. You sort of get "permission" to have these conversations because you've earned them. You have been where this other poor dope is -- and may very well still be there, yourself.
In all the talking, you are plugging yourself into the equation and thinking "Well, at least I don't have that problem." Or, "At least she doesn't do that any more." Kind of like how we feel when we watch idiots behaving badly on reality shows: at least we're not that bad!! Some sense of smugness and relief are part of the picture.
In all relationships, the goal is to be drawn to that potential, and then with experience and time and hard work, that potential gives way to the reality of pleasure. It can become so much more than you imagined, or what was so promising. After many hours of getting to know each other, trust each other, make mistakes with each other, having fun with each other, you finally have built the foundation for...MAGIC.
Magic can happen early and along the way, too. It's a good thing it does, or we'd give up on the whole thing. But the magic that comes from knowing, from allowing that other one inside your heart and mind, from being vulnerable and strong at the same time...well, that's the true reward.
My little spotted wonder horse didn't seem too magical. Especially when I was on the ground looking up at her. At those times, when I was thinking I was way too old for this, that maybe this relationship wouldn't work, and that maybe I'd have to try this with a new partner, there was darned little magic in the bruises I would have.
I was advised "Get rid of her. There's a lot of other horses out there." Or, more gently, "You know, Martha, she might not be right for you." Or, the usual "We just don't want to see you get hurt." "Worse."
Oh, the sleepless nights. Oh, the tough decisions. Oh, the torment. How could this be so wrong when it had felt so right?
I was always worried about what she was going to do next. So far, nothing she had done had either killed me or scared me off completely. But what else did she have that she hadn't yet revealed? What horsey tricks was she capable of? Was she plotting against me? And when would it happen? This is not fun.
Gayla rode my spotted wonder horse. I could see her thinking, hmmm. Then she told me, "Well, she doesn't do this. She doesn't do that. What she does is this."
Somehow, having a framework, a scope of the problem, was the solution. Knowing what she would and would not do became doable. Gayla never said Autumn was not the horse for me. I knew she would let me come to that decision, myself. She did tell me, however, that it was going to take time. A lot of time.
Good thing I didn't know what I didn't know. Ignorance, as they say, is bliss. Time, I could give. Someone very generously told me that it will just keep getting better. Which has been true. There may be setbacks along the way -- lots of them -- but by and large, it gets better and better. Just like any relationship worth fighting for.
I took inventory of what I did know. My gut instinct told me she was a kind horse, very willing, very smart and with good manners. She wasn't shoving me around on the ground. She was polite and sweet. She just had moments of behaving like a hooligan. Also, when I remembered to breathe and relax and enjoy the ride, she was so much fun!
She was interested in going places. And, she got us there quickly and smoothly. She was a pleasure. That was the magic along the way.
So, I figured there was only one thing to do. I had to learn how to ride my horse.
Maybe it's both, with us naturally seeking out what is most comfortable and relatable to us...which is namely, us! Then, over time, the edges blur and we become more and more alike in our visage.
Considering that, how am I like a small, spotted horse? For I was surely drawn to her, feeling there was some commonality, some thread of similarity, some connection...some spark! Just like a budding romance, I looked into those big beautiful eyes of hers and fell in love. Sigh...
Oh, the times we fall in love, only later to discover how WRONG it was. We kick ourselves to the curb long after it's been done to us, or after we've done it to the so-and-so who broke our hearts. How stupid! How could I have been so wrong? What was I thinking??!!
Been there, right? We let that gleeful spark of recognition, the one that draws us to the perfect mate (oh, he was just so cute...nice...talented...rich...fill in the blank), lure us in and then we start to find those hidden "assets" of this potential partner.
So it is in the horse world as well. We fall in love. Maybe that's more of a woman thing, too. When men go horse shopping, do they fall in love, I wonder? Or are they looking for the equivalent of a mid-life-crisis sports car and a beautiful blonde? Maybe they are completely sensible and get that horse that is the perfect match...and then fall in love with it later.
I don't know. But the women I've come to know in the horse world all fell in love, at least at some point. Sometimes with disastrous results. Some are able to let go, acknowledge it was a mistake, and find another love of their life. Some approach it with "I've been burned before, and I'm not doing that again," trying to be completely sensible. Some have bought the high heels; now it's time for sensible shoes. Others are going to wear those high heels, dammit.
Others fell in love with what appeared, to the cynical observer, to be the completely wrong horse...only to discover that it was indeed the right one after all. I have participated in, and overheard, many discussions about what's wrong with someone else's horse and the relationship it has with the rider. Likewise, I'm sure I've been the subject of many of those discussions.
Initially, I was sooooo sensitive about this stuff. It was embarrassing. It annoyed me. It hurt my feelings. It made me feel wrong and stupid. And stubborn.
Over time, I've come to see that this discussion of other people and their horses is all part of the sorting out process of each person and their own beast. You sort of get "permission" to have these conversations because you've earned them. You have been where this other poor dope is -- and may very well still be there, yourself.
In all the talking, you are plugging yourself into the equation and thinking "Well, at least I don't have that problem." Or, "At least she doesn't do that any more." Kind of like how we feel when we watch idiots behaving badly on reality shows: at least we're not that bad!! Some sense of smugness and relief are part of the picture.
In all relationships, the goal is to be drawn to that potential, and then with experience and time and hard work, that potential gives way to the reality of pleasure. It can become so much more than you imagined, or what was so promising. After many hours of getting to know each other, trust each other, make mistakes with each other, having fun with each other, you finally have built the foundation for...MAGIC.
Magic can happen early and along the way, too. It's a good thing it does, or we'd give up on the whole thing. But the magic that comes from knowing, from allowing that other one inside your heart and mind, from being vulnerable and strong at the same time...well, that's the true reward.
My little spotted wonder horse didn't seem too magical. Especially when I was on the ground looking up at her. At those times, when I was thinking I was way too old for this, that maybe this relationship wouldn't work, and that maybe I'd have to try this with a new partner, there was darned little magic in the bruises I would have.
I was advised "Get rid of her. There's a lot of other horses out there." Or, more gently, "You know, Martha, she might not be right for you." Or, the usual "We just don't want to see you get hurt." "Worse."
Oh, the sleepless nights. Oh, the tough decisions. Oh, the torment. How could this be so wrong when it had felt so right?
I was always worried about what she was going to do next. So far, nothing she had done had either killed me or scared me off completely. But what else did she have that she hadn't yet revealed? What horsey tricks was she capable of? Was she plotting against me? And when would it happen? This is not fun.
Gayla rode my spotted wonder horse. I could see her thinking, hmmm. Then she told me, "Well, she doesn't do this. She doesn't do that. What she does is this."
Somehow, having a framework, a scope of the problem, was the solution. Knowing what she would and would not do became doable. Gayla never said Autumn was not the horse for me. I knew she would let me come to that decision, myself. She did tell me, however, that it was going to take time. A lot of time.
Good thing I didn't know what I didn't know. Ignorance, as they say, is bliss. Time, I could give. Someone very generously told me that it will just keep getting better. Which has been true. There may be setbacks along the way -- lots of them -- but by and large, it gets better and better. Just like any relationship worth fighting for.
I took inventory of what I did know. My gut instinct told me she was a kind horse, very willing, very smart and with good manners. She wasn't shoving me around on the ground. She was polite and sweet. She just had moments of behaving like a hooligan. Also, when I remembered to breathe and relax and enjoy the ride, she was so much fun!
She was interested in going places. And, she got us there quickly and smoothly. She was a pleasure. That was the magic along the way.
So, I figured there was only one thing to do. I had to learn how to ride my horse.
Friday, November 12, 2010
Enter the Goddess
I thought taking lessons was the solution to my problem. Eventually, it turned out to be. Only, not initially. I thought "Nothing bad can happen in a lesson! I have a teacher now, so that won't be!"
Lessons come in many packages and sometimes in disguise. You might think your lesson is about one thing, only to realize it was about something different, and maybe much, much more.
With riding a horse, safety is of course one of the top priorities. Oh, you want to be able to do things on your horse. Top-level competitors continue to take lessons. You and your horse can always get better; that's one of the beauties and challenges of this riding thing. But safety is always an underlying issue. With green, rank beginners, it's probably THE biggest thing.
First you have to learn what you don't know. Since I hadn't ridden as a child or young adult, I didn't know what it was supposed to feel like. My body had no memory that it was trying to reproduce. So I was constantly wondering "Is this how this is supposed to feel? Is this right?"
Gayla (The Goddess, as I came to dub her) has had many, many riding lessons in her life. Many other lessons, too, but they're for her to tell. She's had those scary instructors that would make me cry just to have them look at me. The ones who yell, who diminish, who rant and rave and think that's how they're going to make you better -- they're not for me.
She's tough. I'm sure she took it and did them one better while she was at it. I would have crumbled into a little pile of horse manure at the mere thought...not that they would have taken me on as a pupil, anyway. Those types are generally for advanced riders. I'd taken lessons with 8-year-olds before, remember?
No, Gayla never said one thing that made me feel inadequate, old, unprepared, foolish or bad. She either read me correctly (she'll cry if I yell at her) or it was a choice she made to not be like those instructors she'd had. She has a great eye. It took me awhile to figure out she wasn't really looking at me, much. Hmmm. She's not even looking at me!! How can she teach me?
It turns out she was figuring out everything from watching my horse. Those darned horses. They are that perfect mirror. They do exactly what you tell them to do -- whether you realize it or not. Just like my golf swing...the ball goes exactly where I hit it. Into trees, water, the rough... She knew what I was doing (and not doing) from looking at the horse. Plus, she had to look at the horse to teach me how to ride it.
Okay, this is one big misconception I had at the beginning. I thought basically that all horses could do pretty much everything, from jumping to dressage to barrel racing to being cute in a show ring. Yeah...that's sort of true. Like it's true that most humans can play basketball to some level -- only some are Michael Jordans. Most humans can dance, but some are Fred Astaire. Most humans can sing, but some are Barbra Streisand.
Horses are athletes, but within that are hundreds of variations and differences in conformation (how they're put together), personality, work ethic, age, experience and general condition. No two are alike, just as no two humans are alike. So, each rider and each horse is an utterly unique combination. Of course they're all different. Duh.
Learning how to ride has some basic essentials, of course. The poetry begins when you have enough tools in your personal toolbox to address the uniqueness that is your horse. You learn to adjust for that horse that loves to go fast, or the one that needs prodding. You learn how to help your horse and yourself to be the best possible combination that you can be.
The goal of that, ultimately, is for the safety and comfort of the horse -- which is always a horse's first priority. But once your horse feels safe and comfortable a whole lot of miraculous things begin to occur.
It's all about the relationship. That's a woman thing. Men riders might not feel that way, or express it that way, although they should. In this relationship, the human must establish his/her leadership. Like dogs or children (probably not cats...mine don't see me as their leader, I'm sure), horses want you to be their leader. It is the leader's job to take care of them, tell them what to do and how to do it, and to keep them safe and comfortable at the same time.
You want to make the right thing easy and the wrong thing hard. So I've read and been told. That works with humans, too. You are working with pressure and release. Asking and the reward, which is a release from pressure.
I'm not talking about PRESSURE, either. Those horses can feel a fly anywhere on their body. A little bit will do, unless they've gotten so deadened to pressure from some over-zealous rider or trainer. First you ask, then you ask a little harder, then you demand. That's always the order.
From less to a little more to demanding. Having their attention first means asking a little. Having to metaphorically (or literally) yell at your horse because you haven't gotten its attention first is probably your fault. Oh, well, it's always your fault. The human's in charge, remember?
Set your horse up for success. Would you yell at a 5-year-old child "Be brave! Cross that puddle! Go down the road and face those big trucks! Stand next to that big noisy machine!" And then yell at them or smack them with a stick if they don't? Of course not. I hope.
No, you would gradually introduce them to those scary things and let them know that they can trust you. It's a process and it can be a long one or a short one -- but it takes as long as it takes.
Of course, if you're afraid, it's going to be pretty hard to convince your horse that it shouldn't be afraid. Who's the leader here?
Poor Gayla. She might have thought Autumn and I weren't going to make it. Green horse plus green rider equals black and blue. Could this relationship be saved?
Lessons come in many packages and sometimes in disguise. You might think your lesson is about one thing, only to realize it was about something different, and maybe much, much more.
With riding a horse, safety is of course one of the top priorities. Oh, you want to be able to do things on your horse. Top-level competitors continue to take lessons. You and your horse can always get better; that's one of the beauties and challenges of this riding thing. But safety is always an underlying issue. With green, rank beginners, it's probably THE biggest thing.
First you have to learn what you don't know. Since I hadn't ridden as a child or young adult, I didn't know what it was supposed to feel like. My body had no memory that it was trying to reproduce. So I was constantly wondering "Is this how this is supposed to feel? Is this right?"
Gayla (The Goddess, as I came to dub her) has had many, many riding lessons in her life. Many other lessons, too, but they're for her to tell. She's had those scary instructors that would make me cry just to have them look at me. The ones who yell, who diminish, who rant and rave and think that's how they're going to make you better -- they're not for me.
She's tough. I'm sure she took it and did them one better while she was at it. I would have crumbled into a little pile of horse manure at the mere thought...not that they would have taken me on as a pupil, anyway. Those types are generally for advanced riders. I'd taken lessons with 8-year-olds before, remember?
No, Gayla never said one thing that made me feel inadequate, old, unprepared, foolish or bad. She either read me correctly (she'll cry if I yell at her) or it was a choice she made to not be like those instructors she'd had. She has a great eye. It took me awhile to figure out she wasn't really looking at me, much. Hmmm. She's not even looking at me!! How can she teach me?
It turns out she was figuring out everything from watching my horse. Those darned horses. They are that perfect mirror. They do exactly what you tell them to do -- whether you realize it or not. Just like my golf swing...the ball goes exactly where I hit it. Into trees, water, the rough... She knew what I was doing (and not doing) from looking at the horse. Plus, she had to look at the horse to teach me how to ride it.
Okay, this is one big misconception I had at the beginning. I thought basically that all horses could do pretty much everything, from jumping to dressage to barrel racing to being cute in a show ring. Yeah...that's sort of true. Like it's true that most humans can play basketball to some level -- only some are Michael Jordans. Most humans can dance, but some are Fred Astaire. Most humans can sing, but some are Barbra Streisand.
Horses are athletes, but within that are hundreds of variations and differences in conformation (how they're put together), personality, work ethic, age, experience and general condition. No two are alike, just as no two humans are alike. So, each rider and each horse is an utterly unique combination. Of course they're all different. Duh.
Learning how to ride has some basic essentials, of course. The poetry begins when you have enough tools in your personal toolbox to address the uniqueness that is your horse. You learn to adjust for that horse that loves to go fast, or the one that needs prodding. You learn how to help your horse and yourself to be the best possible combination that you can be.
The goal of that, ultimately, is for the safety and comfort of the horse -- which is always a horse's first priority. But once your horse feels safe and comfortable a whole lot of miraculous things begin to occur.
It's all about the relationship. That's a woman thing. Men riders might not feel that way, or express it that way, although they should. In this relationship, the human must establish his/her leadership. Like dogs or children (probably not cats...mine don't see me as their leader, I'm sure), horses want you to be their leader. It is the leader's job to take care of them, tell them what to do and how to do it, and to keep them safe and comfortable at the same time.
You want to make the right thing easy and the wrong thing hard. So I've read and been told. That works with humans, too. You are working with pressure and release. Asking and the reward, which is a release from pressure.
I'm not talking about PRESSURE, either. Those horses can feel a fly anywhere on their body. A little bit will do, unless they've gotten so deadened to pressure from some over-zealous rider or trainer. First you ask, then you ask a little harder, then you demand. That's always the order.
From less to a little more to demanding. Having their attention first means asking a little. Having to metaphorically (or literally) yell at your horse because you haven't gotten its attention first is probably your fault. Oh, well, it's always your fault. The human's in charge, remember?
Set your horse up for success. Would you yell at a 5-year-old child "Be brave! Cross that puddle! Go down the road and face those big trucks! Stand next to that big noisy machine!" And then yell at them or smack them with a stick if they don't? Of course not. I hope.
No, you would gradually introduce them to those scary things and let them know that they can trust you. It's a process and it can be a long one or a short one -- but it takes as long as it takes.
Of course, if you're afraid, it's going to be pretty hard to convince your horse that it shouldn't be afraid. Who's the leader here?
Poor Gayla. She might have thought Autumn and I weren't going to make it. Green horse plus green rider equals black and blue. Could this relationship be saved?
Thursday, October 28, 2010
Education
Education is a good thing. In college, we students were essentially told that we were being taught how to learn. Or, said differently, we were told that we were being taught how to teach ourselves -- for a lifetime of learning.
Education provides a foundation for this lifetime of learning. It can be done without a formal education. History is full of self-taught leaders who are scholars, teachers and extremely knowledgeable. A formal education, however, is a blueprint of sorts. It helps you find shortcuts, and provides a potential structure to finding out what you want or need to know.
With computers and the internet today, finding information is exceedingly rapid, literally at your fingertips. But, information is not education. In my mind, education is what you do with information...how you use it. Education makes sense of information, if you will.
Discernment is an important concept, I believe, when it comes to information-gathering. The above-mentioned computer/internet certainly provides information. Discernment is the filter one applies to its veracity and usefulness. Is this true? What is it saying, and not saying? Do I need/want to know more? What, and who, do I trust?
Ah. Trust. Another important concept in the educational process. We are taught to trust our teachers. We are told to trust those in authority.
Alas, through experience we come to see that trust is often not deserved. Respect has to be earned, not given, right? And respect is an important element of trust? Isn't it?
Before I get too philosophical, let's see what we've got here: education, information, discernment, trust, respect. Now what does all this have to do with learning to ride a horse?
Clearly, learning to ride a horse is a big physical, mental, emotional and spiritual challenge. That's why it's so thrilling. It can be so FULL. It hits on all cylinders. It asks you to fully engage in this communication with a half-ton (or more), 4-legged creature created by God to help us learn more about ourselves, along with hauling us and our stuff around.
The key component of education is the teacher. No way around it, these underpaid, overworked people who feel the call to help educate the young and not-so-young are, well, essential. You wouldn't necessarily know it from the importance they're given in decision-making and the economy, for example, but that's another discussion.
So, here I am in need of a teacher to help me learn how to ride this horse. After my great Winter of Discontent, as it were, I needed that teacher. Spring arrived, and so did my teacher.
I should insert here that I've always been a good student, in the traditional sense. I like to please. I like to brilliantly perform what the teacher asks and be perfect. School systems were designed for people like me. Teacher spits it out; I spit it back. Voila'! I'm educated.
Never mind that the kid in the back of the room bored to death and shooting spitballs became president of his own company because he was a rule-breaker. Or, that the girl who refused to follow instructions as the teacher gave them is now in Congress, breaking rules over there. I was the good student, and was rewarded with those good grades, accordingly.
Now, in my post-50 era, I was still looking for how to get a good grade. Life, unfortunately, does not often work like school did. It's a little less black and white -- all part of that learning how to teach yourself stuff.
What was the equivalent of earning an "A" in this horseback-riding thing? Spelling, and reading, and arithmetic, and history...they all had come easily to me. This, I was learning every day, was not.
I needed to learn a new way of learning, which I discovered meant being a participant in the process, in a big way. What information came into my brain had to be filtered through my body and communicated to the horse. Whew! It's like learning to think in a foreign language -- or even dream in that language. You'll know you've integrated it into yourself when that happens.
I wasn't thinking of any of this at the time, however. I just found out that a fellow boarder at my barn -- a woman for whom I had the utmost respect because she looked like a horsewoman to me -- had agreed to take on the unholy prospect of being the resident riding instructor.
When can I start taking lessons??
I'm sure she was thinking "What have I gotten myself into?" Well, long story short: she changed my life, in the most positive of ways. She taught me how to learn how to ride my horse.
I'll say that again: She taught me how to learn how to ride my horse.
Only, not in any way I could have imagined or predicted. And, probably not in any way she could have imagined or predicted. This was an education. She started to teach me how to teach myself. She showed me how to fill my horseback-riding toolbox with the necessary tools.
Unfortunately, there were some setbacks along the way...
Education provides a foundation for this lifetime of learning. It can be done without a formal education. History is full of self-taught leaders who are scholars, teachers and extremely knowledgeable. A formal education, however, is a blueprint of sorts. It helps you find shortcuts, and provides a potential structure to finding out what you want or need to know.
With computers and the internet today, finding information is exceedingly rapid, literally at your fingertips. But, information is not education. In my mind, education is what you do with information...how you use it. Education makes sense of information, if you will.
Discernment is an important concept, I believe, when it comes to information-gathering. The above-mentioned computer/internet certainly provides information. Discernment is the filter one applies to its veracity and usefulness. Is this true? What is it saying, and not saying? Do I need/want to know more? What, and who, do I trust?
Ah. Trust. Another important concept in the educational process. We are taught to trust our teachers. We are told to trust those in authority.
Alas, through experience we come to see that trust is often not deserved. Respect has to be earned, not given, right? And respect is an important element of trust? Isn't it?
Before I get too philosophical, let's see what we've got here: education, information, discernment, trust, respect. Now what does all this have to do with learning to ride a horse?
Clearly, learning to ride a horse is a big physical, mental, emotional and spiritual challenge. That's why it's so thrilling. It can be so FULL. It hits on all cylinders. It asks you to fully engage in this communication with a half-ton (or more), 4-legged creature created by God to help us learn more about ourselves, along with hauling us and our stuff around.
The key component of education is the teacher. No way around it, these underpaid, overworked people who feel the call to help educate the young and not-so-young are, well, essential. You wouldn't necessarily know it from the importance they're given in decision-making and the economy, for example, but that's another discussion.
So, here I am in need of a teacher to help me learn how to ride this horse. After my great Winter of Discontent, as it were, I needed that teacher. Spring arrived, and so did my teacher.
I should insert here that I've always been a good student, in the traditional sense. I like to please. I like to brilliantly perform what the teacher asks and be perfect. School systems were designed for people like me. Teacher spits it out; I spit it back. Voila'! I'm educated.
Never mind that the kid in the back of the room bored to death and shooting spitballs became president of his own company because he was a rule-breaker. Or, that the girl who refused to follow instructions as the teacher gave them is now in Congress, breaking rules over there. I was the good student, and was rewarded with those good grades, accordingly.
Now, in my post-50 era, I was still looking for how to get a good grade. Life, unfortunately, does not often work like school did. It's a little less black and white -- all part of that learning how to teach yourself stuff.
What was the equivalent of earning an "A" in this horseback-riding thing? Spelling, and reading, and arithmetic, and history...they all had come easily to me. This, I was learning every day, was not.
I needed to learn a new way of learning, which I discovered meant being a participant in the process, in a big way. What information came into my brain had to be filtered through my body and communicated to the horse. Whew! It's like learning to think in a foreign language -- or even dream in that language. You'll know you've integrated it into yourself when that happens.
I wasn't thinking of any of this at the time, however. I just found out that a fellow boarder at my barn -- a woman for whom I had the utmost respect because she looked like a horsewoman to me -- had agreed to take on the unholy prospect of being the resident riding instructor.
When can I start taking lessons??
I'm sure she was thinking "What have I gotten myself into?" Well, long story short: she changed my life, in the most positive of ways. She taught me how to learn how to ride my horse.
I'll say that again: She taught me how to learn how to ride my horse.
Only, not in any way I could have imagined or predicted. And, probably not in any way she could have imagined or predicted. This was an education. She started to teach me how to teach myself. She showed me how to fill my horseback-riding toolbox with the necessary tools.
Unfortunately, there were some setbacks along the way...
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)