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.

Autumn

Sorrel Roan Tobiano Pinto Tennessee Walking Horse mare. That description is bigger than she is. But there's a lot packed into that small package.

So, she was the opposite of a common sense purchase for a first-time owner...especially one who had a lot of grey hair. She was a "she." She is a mare. Mares have heat cycles and hormones and lots of opinions. She was small. Small often translates to quick and agile. She was young: 5 years old. That means she hadn't had a lot of experience and/or training. In human years, she was maybe 15. An adolescent. A hormonal teenager.

I was thinking about this. I wasn't completely uninformed and I wasn't completely foolish and I'd never describe myself as an adventurous risk-taker. However, I chose to trust my heart and my instincts, which told me that she had come for me. Now, I had found her.

It's a good thing we can't see the future. Sometimes if we have any idea of what we are getting ourselves into, we might reconsider. I've done that plenty of times: try to imagine every last detail and outcome of a possible choice, and then talk myself out of it.

Not this time!

I didn't exactly leap before I looked, but leap I did.

So -- I became the owner of a horse. The implications of that statement were enormous, and still are, to this day. The thrill of a life-long dream fulfilled, the anxiety of hoping you are up to the task, the joy of a new partnership, the fear and realization of knowing that you don't even know what you don't know...life lessons were going to start coming hard and fast.

And when I say hard and fast, I ain't kiddin'.

She was fast and the ground was hard.

Not knowing much about her background (which is often true of horses, cats, dogs and people, I suppose), I was left with guesses and observations from more experienced horse people. Best guess: probably some kid had gotten on her and just taken off. Not much training. Get on and go! Oh, to be 14 again. 14-year-old girls have to be the best riders. They're limber, athletic, fearless and mend quickly.

Autumn seemed overwhelmed by her new life. Part of the guess-work about her background was that she'd lived in smaller places with fewer horses and less activity and noise. This was a big barn, with lots of horses and lots of noise and lots of people. She now lived in a stall at night, with other horses around her. During the day, she was turned out with the other horses.

Even if you go visit your boarded horse every day, that leaves a whole lot of the day that she's living her own life. She has to make new friends, figure out the routine, find out who to stay away from and who will protect her, and learn how to play well with others. Those things she has to do on her own. The rest, like how to become curious instead of fearful, and figuring out what to do when I'm on her back, was part of my job to teach her.

It's said that you are always teaching your horse when you're with him or her. You're either teaching them something positive or you are teaching them something, shall we say, less positive. There's no neutral ground. It takes a whole lot more time to undo the not-so-positive stuff than to teach it right in the first place.

Patience is called for, lots of it. Time is something that is measured by progress: it takes as long as it takes. Persistence, doing it over and over, consistently is also required. This is part of the very large commitment of owning a horse.

Oh, you don't have to do it that way. You can get on and go, kick and yell when they do something wrong. You can blame the horse for bad training or a bad attitude or being lazy or whatever shortcomings you perceive. You can decide you've bought the wrong horse, so you sell it and buy a different one. The horse never gets any better and neither do you.

Or, you can look at this as a relationship. Women are more likely to see it this way than men do, I suppose. We like that kind of stuff. That's how we see the world: one relationship at a time. The horse, however, is half of that relationship. You cannot decide the relationship you will have. You need to get to know one another, each one's fears and strengths and weaknesses. Your goal is to create a relationship where each is stronger within that relationship than outside of it. Hmmm....kind of like life?

Autumn had now entered my life, and I had entered hers. What kind of relationship were we going to have? Patience has never been my strong suit. I knew nothing of training horses. Physically, I was in the worst shape of my life.

She was going to have to tell me what I needed to know. I was going to have to learn how to listen.

Touched by A Horse

The exchange between horse and human is not an equal one. To my way of thinking, the human gets a lot more than it gives. When being ridden, that horse has to put up with this creature on its back, trying to balance it like I would a child on my shoulders. It must learn to tolerate a big chunk of metal in its mouth, and try to anticipate that silly human's desires. Where does she want me to go? Does she know she's telling me to stop and go at the same time? Why does she sit so crooked? All this for a carrot? Jeepers...just leave me alone and we'll do fine!!



The horse is a very generous being. That generosity is often mistaken for stupidity, while I think it is just the nature of this four-legged to give. As I've said before, it's heart is huge. That huge heart is good for endurance and stamina and speed, but it's also great for opening up to those poor unfortunates, humans.



Horses seem to know the difference between a child that needs taking care of, and an idiot. Put a child on a horse and the horse takes care of the child. It will often (not always) sedately walk around, being very mindful of its responsibility. Put an idiot on a horse's back and the horse knows right away there's an idiot up there. Forgiving beings that they are, idiocy alone doesn't demand sharp lessons. Idiocy, combined with arrogance, cruelty, aggressiveness and/or recklessness, can get that human taught a very quick lesson. Being an idiot, however, those lessons are often not learned -- not even recognized.



Every horse has its story.

Unlike dogs and cats, who might have 1, 2 or 3 owners in a lifetime, horses seem to be the most peripatetic of 4-leggeds...their lives are often a journey that takes them hither and thither. Many times an owner has no idea of the history of their horse. They might know where he/she came from last, and maybe the time before. When you are able to trace their history, you might find that your horse is more well-traveled than you. Born in Kentucky, sold to a first owner in Ohio, then off to South Dakota, back to Illinois. Those are the lucky ones -- they've escaped the "kill lot" which leads to a can of dog food.

Such is the life of a horse, sometimes. They can also be born and raised on a family farm and know only one or two owners. Horses may have many jobs in a lifetime. They need jobs, just as we do. And they need jobs for which their body type and temperament and age suit them.

Too often horses are asked to do the wrong job. Owners get the notion that a horse should be able to do what they want them to do. This is just not always true. The horse tells them, loudly and clearly, sometimes, that this ain't gonna work! Sometimes they quietly endure, and try their best to give what is asked of them.

For example, the owner who buys this horse she falls in love with and thinks "Oh! Here is the horse that I will take to shows and win blue ribbons with, in...fill in the blank." It could be Dressage, or Jumping, or Reining, or Barrel Racing, or any of a great variety of disciplines. Many horses are versatile enough, and athletic enough, that they'll give it a shot. Maybe they'll perform well; maybe they won't.

Owners who are rich enough just sell the one that doesn't get that blue ribbon and buy another one. Owners who are stuck, and may be astute enough to let the horse have the job they are designed to do, say "Well, he'll never be a winner at cutting cows, but I love him and he'll be a great 4-H horse for my daughter." Or, something along those lines.

So, the body of a horse, just as in humans, will carry with them the effects of use, abuse and ill-use. Asked to hold their head in a way their body is not designed to accommodate for too long, will lead to big muscle knots and pain. Their entire body's carriage is affected. What might appear to be stiffness and soreness in one area, may in fact be initiated in an entirely different area.

I've certainly learned this from the body work I've had done on myself. I've discovered that hip pain came from a knee injury, which then resulted in ankle pain, and so on. All our parts make up a whole. What affects one part, affects that whole. You must treat the whole, as well as the specific area.

Which brings me back to horse massage, or properly called Equine Sports Massage Therapy. Massages don't replace going to the doctor for humans. Massages don't replace the need for proper veterinarian care in horses. It is part of a package of wellness, that works in conjunction with farriers, veterinarians, acupuncture, acupressure, chiropractic -- mostly anything that is done to a human can be done to a horse. And is.

Safety and comfort are two top priorities for a horse. Massage addresses the comfort -- maybe even sometimes the safety. When anyone puts their hand on a horse, they are getting an opportunity to hear their story. What is causing them discomfort? How can that be addressed to relieve that discomfort?

Most of the time, horse owners and riders are doing things to their horse: leading them, feeding them, grooming them, riding them, training them. How often do they take time to quietly be with their horse?

Giving a horse a massage is a lovely way to be with your horse -- and you don't have to be a trained equine sports massage therapist to do it. A few simple techniques can be a great source of bringing comfort to both of you.

And, if you're still and quiet, maybe you will hear the horse's story. They all have one, just as we do. In touching, you will be touched. You will feel, and you will hear. You will be touched by the divinity that is a horse.

Touching Horses

That first day, I had no idea what to expect. What I found was that I was in a small group of women, all younger than I, and all experienced with horses to varying degrees. One was a Texas cowgirl, the real thing. She'd grown up doing rodeo. Another was a former equine gymnast, who, with her boyfriend, was starting their own small ranch. The third was a young woman who was driving her horse trailer around the country and could do everything from her own farrier work to training horses to telling tall tales.

And me.

It occurred to me that this was one of those times that it was a good thing I didn't know what I didn't know. I did know I could learn, and that finally I had a chance to join that elite club of horsepeople. I wanted to be viewed as serious -- that I was truly there to learn more about this marvelous creature, the horse. But I didn't want to be viewed as some fool, starry-eyed and unrealistic.

What I didn't realize at the time that it was also a terrific way to start learning about horse people. They, of course, come in different shapes, sizes and ages, too. They also come with a wide range of what they know and don't know about horses. I found that in some cases I knew more than they did. I guess that book learnin' ain't so bad!

There are some general truths when it comes to horse people: Ask ten horse people for an opinion, and you'll get eleven answers; Never be critical of someone's horse -- it's personal; There really is something mystical about women and horses; Being a horse person is a lifestyle. Those are just a few.

You have to have your own experiences. Until you have your own experiences you have to rely on the experiences of others. Take it all in and use what makes sense to you. If one thing doesn't work, try another. Above all, be safe...if you even know what that means.

You don't have any idea how many ways you can be unsafe until a horse shows you. As a wise man told me: "Try to imagine the most impossible thing that a horse can do. Eventually you will see them do it and a lot more you couldn't imagine." This usually involves the horse's safety and well-being, as well as your own. When people tell you "don't do that," listen to them. Wisdom does indeed come from experience. Real wisdom comes from using others' experiences to prevent bad things from happening, so that you don't have to experience it yourself.

My instructor, Sue Mazlum, has been doing this for many years. Her husband had recently passed away and now she was on her own in this business. What I saw first was a woman who very clearly loved horses. Her objective was to pass on her experience, her love, and her skills -- all with the goal of making horses' lives healthier and more comfortable.

Another objective, I believe, is to just make people more knowledgeable about horses. In the years since, I am often surprised by how little people know about their horses. Granted, it is an ongoing process and there is a whole lot to learn. Unfortunately, you tend to learn a lot when the horse gets sick or injured. So, consider yourself fortunate if you're ignorant!

I knew that Sue was a woman from whom I could learn a lot, even beyond the parameters of this class. Here, watching the sun set behind the foothills of the Rocky Mountains, I just wanted to hang around and soak it all in. After class would end in the afternoons, Sue was kind enough to just talk about horses to me. Her "classroom" was located at a big stable. There were all kinds of horses being worked and she would tell me about some of them.

We discussed conformation (how a horse is put together), temperament, riding, ownership -- lots of horse stuff. Sometimes it wasn't even about horses, just about life. I loved it.

Those younger women in my class were all good students, and had come to class for different reasons. They would take this information and their newly-learned skills back to their lives. But, I sensed that for me, this was something different. I was in a mist of delight. I was in a life-altering time of my life, and I knew it. I was being transformed. I couldn't go back.

I was learning how to touch a horse and see with my fingers. I was learning how to trust myself in what I found. I was learning that these horses, young and old, big and not-so-big, were absolutely, amazingly sensitive.

They all had their stories, and in touching them I started to hear some of those stories.

Riding Lessons

If you live in a city, and you wish to be around horses, get ready to do some driving. Horses usually live in the country. I've heard about some people keeping (trying to keep?) miniatures in their sunporches but I hope that's an urban myth.

I found a riding stable about 45 minutes from where I lived and signed myself up. You will have questions asked of you, like English or Western? I said Western, being enamored of cowboys and westerns, etc.. Also, I knew enough to know that there is a variation in style of riding, different tack (equipment), and concepts. I also assumed that there are biases from people on both sides regarding their preference.

I planned on (hoped to be) eventually doing a lot of trail riding. By and large, you are more comfortable in a Western style saddle when going on long rides. After all, those big Western saddles were designed with the comfort of a cowboy in mind -- one who might be spending an entire day in the saddle. Being in the "mature" age range makes one think more of comfort, believe me.

You will also, at a minimum, and regardless of English or Western, be required to wear a helmet and long pants. You will also need some sort of boot that covers your ankle and has a heel. These are all safety requirements. Horseback riding is a dangerous sport. You will be reminded of this quite constantly.

You will be reminded when you, yourself, fall off. You will be reminded when you see others fall off. If you ride horses long enough, you will most likely fall off. If you do not, I believe it is because you haven't fallen off yet. You will also be stepped on, kicked, bitten and/or shoved. With a little luck and a lot of agility, you will be able to leap out of the way or quickly pick yourself up after landing in the dirt.

There's a phrase, a saying, that I've seen on t-shirts and posters: The hardest part about riding is the ground. Oh yeah.

But! As I drove off to my first lesson I was not thinking about this stuff. That came later. When I pulled in the driveway and got out of the car, there was only one thing that came to mind. I was hooked.

I knew it. I hadn't even set foot in the barn yet. It was the smell, you see. The smell of horses is absolutely intoxicatingly beautiful. That is, if you have that gene. And nose. It is the smell of hay and the hay outcome, manure. (Horse manure, by the way, is pretty good compared to much stinkier manure, such as comes from sheep, pigs and cows.) It is also the smell of the horses themselves. They smell of earth and sweat and leather and and the good Lord that made them!

Soon, after signing things and taking a tour and being given the preliminaries, I was about to get on...a horse.

Living the Story

Maybe it's obvious that before you can tell your story you have to live it! I love to talk...or "share information" as a former boss put it. Probably most of what I talk about is other people's stories. Hmmm...is that called gossiping? I prefer to think of it as sharing stories.

For a private person, telling your own story is a challenge. I'm always fascinated with what makes people tick. What motivates them? What are their fears, and dreams and challenges? It's probably safer to think about other people's stuff. Looking at one's own stuff can be, well, scary.

So, here I was, about to add a big ol' chapter to my life when I thought about bringing horses into it. Never being one to leap before I look, I had to think about this. I had to project into the future all possible outcomes and contingencies. I had to attempt to defeat this idea before it defeated me. I knew it was big for me and I had to really, really think about it.

But those ideas about horses just wouldn't leave me alone.

Now, I only planned on trying to find a way to be around horses. I had absolutely no notion of possessing one. I knew they are big. They are dangerous. They require a commitment. They require a lifestyle change. THEY ARE EXPENSIVE. I'd done some of my homework. I knew about boarding costs versus having one at your own place. I knew about farriers and vet bills and teeth floating and equipment (tack) and lessons and good golly who knows what else.

So, my little safe-minded analytical brain turned to the problem of how I could sort of hang out with them without it just being too much. Maybe I wouldn't even like it! Maybe I'd be too nervous, too scared, too fat, too out of shape, too you-name-it.

I happened to see a story in the newspaper about people doing massages on horses. BOING!!! That was it. That's what I wanted to do. Forget that I knew nothing about massage or horses or how the two went together. I thought maybe this was a way to be around them and pay them back a little bit for all they have done, and do, for us humans. Seems the least I could do!

Remember, now -- I am not a person who leaps before she looks. And she looks a loooong time, usually, before she leaps! How can I do this?

Well, first I better find out if I even want to be around them. I decided to take riding lessons.

Memories

When a person turns fifty years old, he or she starts to get the idea that maybe you have fewer years in front of you than you do behind you. You start to think about those things you have "always wanted to do." Mortality seems to surround you like a dark cloud. You have elderly parents, ailing friends, you yourself aren't feeling so great and now your boss is even younger than you are. For the first time, even the President of the United States is younger than you are.

When people would ask me what I wanted to do, I said I didn't know. I didn't. There were things I thought I was supposed to want to do, like march for peace and save the world. There were things that maybe I used to want, like an important career. There were things I needed, but maybe didn't really want so much.

I read somewhere that in order to get in touch with what you really want, you should think back to when you were six or seven years old. That's when you are truest to who you are with your wants about your life. I had to think hard. What did I want when I was six or seven? What did I think about then? What were my dreams about, then?

It took me awhile but it sort of came to me in a flash of clarity one day. I immediately dismissed what came because I thought: "Well, so what good does that do me?" But those thoughts of what I dreamed about when I was six or seven wouldn't leave me alone. There were two things that that rather defined me when I was that age -- two things that I thought about and were a big part of my life...at least, in my memory.

The first was reading stories and writing and telling stories. My part-Irish ancestry was a big part of that, I think. The Irish are professional talkers and not many are better at it than they. Kissing the Blarney Stone is no joke. The Bardic tradition in Ireland is of an oral history. The words not only relayed their history, but wrapped that history in a mist of myth and mystery.

No matter the flaws of my family, story telling was integral to who we were. Whether made up or factual, the stories I heard made me appreciate the fine art of spinning a yarn, weaving a tale and making magic. I saw the pictures that were drawn with those words, saw the characters that were being talked about, and felt an immediacy to the generations before me.

My second memory from that age was of horses. I couldn't get enough of them, at least in my imagination. The details of how and where and all that were inconsequential to me then. It was enough to just love them. It had to be. Besides, every self-respecting story probably had a horse or two in it, too. (Oh yes, the Irish certainly have a way with horses, too. Were my however-many drops of Celtic blood speaking to me?)

So, there I was, at fifty, thinking about these two things from my memory: story-telling and horses. Now what was I going to do with that?

Horse Crazy

Like so many little girls, I was crazy about horses. I don't know exactly when it started...maybe from watching westerns on television. Roy Rogers and Trigger were on Saturday mornings. Gunsmoke was on at night, along with any number of movie westerns and lots of other television westerns.

The sound of those running horses always intrigued me. That fast clippety, clippety, clopping was like no other sound there was. Heroes were always galloping after bad guys, going through deep canyons and mountains and rivers and open prairies. Those ranch houses so often looked like places where I wanted to live and have a horse and grow up and marry a cowboy.

The horses were just at the heart of it all, in the middle of the picture I wanted to step into. When I was younger, I so much wanted to go to Montana and have a horse ranch. I was reading Zane Grey and William MacLeod Raine and Charles Alden Seltzer when my friends were reading young romances. These were romances, too! Romances of the West!

Later, as I got a little older and saw other movies and read other books, I thought it might be better to live in Kentucky and have a horse farm. Then I would go to the Derby and have hunt breakfasts and be landed gentry. Now that's how a person is supposed to live, I thought.

My family didn't have horses, so I had to content myself with looking at pictures of them and making do with the sawhorses in the garage. I'd throw an old rug over one, make stirrups out of a rope by making a loop in both ends, and make a bridle out of another rope that went around the front. I'd sit out there for hours, just imagining what it must feel like.

My nickname was "Black Bart" and for awhile I had my Annie Oakley outfit that I wore. Then there was the summer my mother couldn't get me out of my cowboy boots, which I wore with shorts.

As much as I loved those cowboys, all tall and lanky and suntanned, I really admired the Indians. After all, they didn't ride with saddles, and boots and all those trappings. They just got on their wonderfully painted ponies and rode like the wind. I figured they were onto something and must know a lot those cowboys didn't.

Time marches on, however, and little girls grow up. They go off to college and start going in some direction that they think leads to where they want to be. Or they get married, or do both, or neither. In my case, I started to believe that horses were something that other people had. That picture was a picture that had other people in it. I had a different picture.

Horses cost money. That fact is a big one. They ain't called hay burners for nothin'! So when life intrudes on one's dreams, money is so often the consideration that defines those dreams. At one point I had the money...but I didn't have the time! I thought about learning to ride, which I never had. (Only in my dreams.) But, I thought I was too old. I was probably in my thirties. I saw other people going on trail rides or riding horses on vacations, but I never did.

It felt like a club to which I did not belong. Some part of me knew that, for me anyway, it was an all or nothing proposition. I couldn't be just a little involved with horses. I didn't go to horse shows. I didn't see more than maybe one rodeo. I didn't know anyone with a horse, except for a woman with whom I worked. She used to drive a fairly long way after work to go ride her horse. That rather amazed me.

So what finally changed? What finally got me to the point where I knew it was time to bring myself into the world of horses?

Amongst other things...I turned fifty.

The Horse

Horses have changed human lives for eons. They have enabled mobility, allowing travel from one place to another. They have been willing beasts of burden. They have been immortalized in mythology and been the stuff of legends. They helped mankind go to war and served as companions in peace.


Only in modern times have they come to represent a luxury. That is probably good news for the horse. Now they have new jobs. They are used in therapy for children and adults with physical, mental and emotional issues. They are teachers and healers.

They still do their original job as well: they carry us around on their backs and take us places. That's pretty amazing, when you realize that to them something on their back usually not only wants to kill them, but to eat them, too!

We humans are predators. Horses are prey animals. That means their every instinct is to survive from predators like us. Their brain may be the size of a walnut, but I believe they use a heck of a lot more of that brain than we do of our bigger ones. And interestingly enough, while their brains may be small, their hearts are huge. I think they use those hearts to a greater capacity than we humans use ours, as well.

How does a horse use its heart? Physically, the extreme example is a race horse, using every ounce of heart to win that race...or to do its very best. Mentally, it may just mean survival and self-preservation, but horses take care of their riders all the time. Especially when said rider is on the ground! They'll do their best not to step on you...all the while giving you a look like "What the heck are you doing down there?" Emotionally, they have feelings, just as we do. And they will tell you all about them, if you know how to listen. Spiritually -- the heart of a horse elevates, enlightens and empowers all those who are fortunate enough to interact with them.

My story is about how my life changed when I brought horses into it. After a life-long love affair with them from afar, the powerful effect of finally being around horses -- close up -- is overwhelming to me. It is magic. It is healing. It is elevating. It is...the Horse.

I call it Horse Therapy. The bumper sticker on my car says Horses are my therapy. Certainly one special horse is for me. When this little mare picked me to be her owner, well, the magic began. I had no idea what a bumpy ride magic can be.