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.

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.

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?

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...

Breathing Room

One of the dictionary definitions of breathe is to make manifest. Another is live. Another is to pause and rest before continuing.

Remembering to breathe has always been a problem of mine. Really. I'd be concentrating on something so hard I'd forget to breathe. It might have been taking tests, or learning dance steps or any of a number of tasks I was concentrating soooo much on, that I'd just forget to breathe.

I'd hold my breath. Holding your breath you are not relaxed. You are not making anything manifest, you are not living and you are not pausing and resting before continuing. You are frozen, tense...and waiting. Probably waiting to take your next breath, only maybe you don't realize that.

The word inspiration (also respiration) comes from the same root meaning. Inspiration is to breathe life into an idea. When you don't breathe, there is no life. Nothing can happen. Dead.

So, I realized that a lot of the time I was on this horse I was holding my breath. That couldn't have felt very relaxing to Autumn, and I'm sure I was not feeling very relaxed. I was waiting for what she was going to do next. I was in a very re-active mode, not an active one. If you are not active, you are not the leader. You need to be the leader of your horse. They are waiting for you to tell them what to do.

From the horse's point of view, a "leader" who is perched as rigid as a clothespin on their back, not breathing, is not a leader. They are a nervous wreck. How much confidence do you think that inspires in the horse?

To my little horse's credit, she didn't particularly take advantage of my non-leadership stance. She was giving me the benefit of the doubt, more or less. Are you asking me to do this? Are you asking me to go faster? Are you asking me to not move? Poor thing, she was probably trying to constantly second-guess me.

Other horses are not so kind. They get pissed off. What the !@##! are you doing up there? What do you want? Get off my back!! Now.

In my head I might have been thinking "I want to go right." My body might have told her "go straight" or "I'm not sure where I want to go." So she'd decide for us. Breathing may not be the total answer to being a balanced leader, but you sure can't be one without it!

Before you can get your body to relax (and your mind) you need to breathe. Consciously, sometimes. In...out...in...out. See? Not so hard. It can be, though, once your brain gets taken over with the ugly What Ifs. What if she (fill in the blank)...bucks, rears, jumps sideways, bolts, stops, goes too fast, goes too slow (never an issue with Autumn)? Never mind that she'd never done most of this.

Now that fear had entered the equation, and I accepted that unexpected, bad things can happen, I was waiting for the "what next." What else was she going to do? I was waiting for something bad to happen. Not a particularly confident, leadership place to be...neither in life in general, nor with a horse, specifically.

I was totally projecting into the future, instead of being present in the moment, as they say. The NOW was playing second fiddle to the NEXT. I was always worried. Worry is putting fear into the future.

Unfortunately, the light bulb about breathing didn't really go on. I'd think of it, I'd stop and breathe, and make it through the day. But it just doesn't change that fast. Going from rigid, non-breathing, lack of confidence to relaxed and breathing and confident does not happen overnight, just because you make that decision. Getting your brain on board is one thing; getting your body on the same page is quite another. Especially when you are in your, shall we say, mature years?

It takes time. It takes patience. It takes determination. It takes learning about your limits as well as your horse's. It takes discipline. It takes a teacher.

When the student is ready, the teacher appears.

Boy, was I ready. Now...where's that teacher?

Winter

After taking my first tumble off of a horse, I now knew it was time for a reassessment. I now knew that this "going off" thing was possible. Oh, I knew all along it was possible...I was just hoping it wouldn't happen to us, at least not this soon. Drat.

That blustery afternoon when I found myself on the ground looking up at my horse (always an interesting point of view -- and better than sitting on the ground watching my horse run off without me), I returned to the barn and got back on. I would slather liniment on myself and take ibuprofen later.

I was asked "Were you dumped off, or thrown off?" Hmmm. "Dumped off," says I. I didn't believe she was trying to put me off. She just went in a different direction than I did, and off I went. Times like this one is glad to have a short horse, where you more or less go off sideways. Getting thrown off, as in your horse is bucking and you take a big ol' sky ride before you come to earth, is a whole lot less fun.

And, when one is thrown off, one questions if that was the horse's intent. Another hmmmm. Now why would that nice horse ever want to rid itself of its rider? Something else to think about.

When you and your horse part ways, I believe intention counts. What was your horse's intention? I always intend to stay on my horse -- but sometimes that just doesn't happen. I ask myself what was going on when it happened? What was I doing, or not doing?

Your first instinct is to blame the horse, and maybe sometimes you should, if they are a just plain ornery cuss. Their intention should be to take care of the rider. The rider's intention should be to take care of the horse. Now, that covers a whole lot of territory. I've discovered that if that is not the horse's intention, it's probably because of something the rider is or isn't doing to make it so.

There is a lovely book I came across, There Are No Problem Horses, Only Problem Riders, by Mary Twelveponies. With rare exceptions, the problems in a horse are because of the rider's lack of understanding, and not asking properly for what it is they want. That's a great simplication in a highly complex communication that exists between horse and rider. Essentially, however, I think the horse knows how to do everything. They're perfect!

The rider just needs to figure out how to ask the right questions -- and learn how to listen to the answers you get. Then, maybe you need to ask the same question in a different way. Simple!

Winter came, in more ways than one. The blissful, carefree days of getting on my little horse and going down the road and riding the trails in the beautiful sunshine...were over. We had moved into a new season, one that was cold and unforgiving and nasty. Winter. Fear. Now what?

I love to load myself up with information. I like to think about what I'm thinking about. Paralysis from analysis, some might say. I did realize, however, that this riding thing would only be learned if I actually got on the horse. Duh.

Fortunately, I have an indoor riding arena, so I had no excuse for not continuing my riding in the winter. My barn buddies would put on the long underwear and go out. It was not the cold that was the problem. It was the knot in my stomach. I'd become one of those riders who thought "I can't ride today. It's too...fill in the blank: cold, windy, Tuesday, late, early, scary, etc..

Working with your horse from the ground is a very good thing. Clinicians advise you that if you can't get your horse to do whatever from the ground, you are not going to get them to do it from the saddle. I found that it was a good way to take my and my horse's temperature, so to speak. What kind of mood is she in? Is she paying attention? Is she calm and listening to me? Am I calm and listening to her? How confident are we feeling?

Also, you can do lots of games and exercises to strengthen them, make them more flexible and let them get to know you and how you ask for what you want. I think most of them are trying really hard to figure out what you are asking. Give them time to think about what you are asking. Some horses get it right away. They're smart. Sometimes smarter than you. Others take longer to process.

If a 5-year-old child has trouble understanding what you're asking, yelling at them is not going to make them get it any sooner. Nor will it make them any braver. Quite the contrary. However, I see horse people "yell" all the time at their horses -- both literally and figuratively. "BE BRAVE! MOVE!" Faced with certain death (what your horse fears), yelling at them to be brave will not make them brave. It will however, make them not trust you.

Relax. I'll say that again. Relax. Then ask again.

I spent a long winter trying to learn how to relax. I'd play games with myself. "Just go to the barn. You don't have to ride." "Just saddle her up; you don't have to get on." "Just get on for 5 minutes; then you can get off." "Just go around the arena twice; then you can get off."

I don't know if that's any kind of way to go about it, but it's what I had to do. And that was it. I had to do it. Yes, I wanted to do it, some days more than others. But the bottom line was that I had to do it, for oh so many reasons. Not doing it was not an option. So, whatever it took, I had to find a way.

Was I up to this? Was this ever going to be fun?? I loved this horse. Could I find something in me that would measure up to what she was asking of me? Which, I feel now, was to learn how to breathe.

Breathe?

Listening

I was a passenger on my horse. We'd go off down the road with other people on other horses and she'd follow along, willing to be part of the excursion. Every once in awhile she'd spook, jumping at some real or imagined threat. I'd stay on, thinking, this isn't too bad. I can manage this.

It started to occur to me that I had no control over her. I'd had her for 3-4 months. So far she was willing, and it was fortunate that she, more or less, wanted to do what I wanted to do. If there were battles, they were minor, and I always lost. For example, if I wanted her to turn and go down that trail that led away from home, she'd just stop. "No thank you," she politely said. She would only go when the other horses went that way, and then she'd follow. Certainly not because I was asking her to -- and absolutely not because I was telling her to...because I wasn't telling her anything.

That wasn't particularly awful behavior in horse world. It's fairly typical. Some days she'd be a little more argumentative. Depending on personality, experience, and temperament, they will, to varying degrees, be the leader of the two of you if you are not up to the task. Their leadership can come (if you've abdicated the role, knowingly or unknowingly) in the form of stubborness, bucking, rearing, bolting -- all undesirable behavior that has different levels of danger and safety risks. Unfortunately, lack of leadership and its resulting behaviors tend to escalate.

The bottom line is that a horse willingly lets you onto its back, and does what you ask it to do, because it trusts you and wants to please you. It wants you to be its leader. I believe the Divine Creator asked Horse Spirit if it was willing to come to this world and act as our companions. Horse Spirit probably said "Are you kidding? They do not want companions. They would want slaves, and something to bully. They would want to use us in wars and work us until we drop. That's how humans see animals...not companions, but property."

Divine Creator must have done some fast talking. He/She said "But they desperately need you. Without you they will never learn to fly. They will never know the feeling of the wind in their face, or the magic that you will give them. They will be thoughtless, and cruel, and domineering. But they will one day come to see that you will make them be better human beings. You will teach them the wisdom that is Horse."

"Okay...but you know they have a hard time listening! That is because they make so much noise. We will have to teach them to be quiet, and listen." With that, Horse came to Earth. Perhaps reluctantly, but they came.

So, apparently, I was not listening to Autumn. She had to teach me how. One day coming home on a ride it was rather windy and cool. We were coming up a hill towards home and WHOOSH! Before I knew it, I'd flown off and had landed on my backside in a little bush. My first thought was "Well, so that's what it feels like to fall off a horse." My second thought was "I'm so glad my feet came out of my stirrups."

What had happened? I don't know. A stray sound, or smell or something spooked her. Me going off of her probably scared her as much as it did me. She stood there looking at me like "What are you doing down there?" At times like this you are supposed to get back on that horse. Cowgirl up!!!! I did not. I walked home, leading her. I did get back on once we were home. Briefly.

In one short moment my horse life changed. I'd gone from being a naive passenger, to realizing that I had to learn how to actually ride this horse. My baby steps, which I thought I'd been taking, just got smaller. Something new had entered the equation: fear.

How was I going to keep going and learn how to conquer the paralyzing knot in my stomach? Did I want to? Could I imagine not trying? The physical ouch was not nearly so great as the mental one.

What do I do now? She'd given me a message, loud and clear. I heard it. What I heard was "Now are you willing to be the leader?" "Because if you aren't, we're both in trouble."

Can you be a leader if you're afraid?