Remember when

Grief is a strange thing. Deeply personal but meant to be shared. I have shared with students and those that loved her this passed week. We have shared stories and laughter and some tears over the loss of Matilda.

But now I find myself here. I wanted to make a list. A list of moments shared and lessons learned... just so I don't forget. Quotes are Miss Kim paraphrases. And so:

Trails. With students and alone. Alone we cantered (don't do that alone) practicing simple changes along the winding trail.

After she was untacked and groomed, we used to stop at my truck and share a pear.

That lesson. The one that wasn't feeling right so Kim and I sat in the sand while you snurfled us and slept.

Standing with her in her stall, hoping she wouldn't lose patience as I worked half a bottle of cowboy magic into her tail... but I always thought she moved better when it had that glossy flick.

BIRTHDAY RIDE!!!!

Riding around, using a pitchfork handle as my practice garrocha pole. Trotting the weaving poles and doing target practice.

Lateral.Work. endless...

Chasing cats.

"If I have to call the fire department to get that horse out of the manure pile!!!" 

Followed quickly by

"No, YOU have to be the electric fence"

Watching your head pop out of the window when I gave the signal, telling you I was there to give you a treat.

"Don't just rush to get through the hard stuff. It's a training opportunity."

Bareback... never thought that would be possible. Or comfortable.

When things fall apart and are in chaos, take a breath, relax your joints and go with the motion. Calm will find you. 

Crying, laughing, singing, telling you my secrets.

That first day I worked up the courage to call Walter Bennett Farris, we were on the trail with no signal. When I made the call to my soulmate, my left hand held my phone and your lead rope was in my right. You were there for that too.

Letting go in my heart of what was never mine. You belonged to Bramblewood. First and always. People loved you. People saw you without meeting you and it was amazing. I couldn't be jealous of time you had with others so it became a joy

.

See above.

And again.

I wish you well on your next adventure, my girl. Thank you for changing me. Thank you for giving me your strength, for being stable, solid and grounded. For teaching me so dang much. I think we could have done anything, if only the breeze hadn't felt so good, the grass looked so green and the sky blue. 

I will miss my friend.

Bits and pieces

Four blog posts started, never finished. I wonder how they were supposed to end?!?

And So It Goes (AKA Circles are Hard) 2013

Every week, I build a "honey-do" list for my weekends. A list of things I should try to accomplish over a day and a half so that projects get done and the house runs smoothly while I work at the barn from Tuesday through Saturday. The list can contain a variety of things such as pay bills, paint deck furniture or return emails. No matter what, however, the list always starts with the same 5 things:

• Laundry
• Grocery
• Dust
• Counters
• Toilets

Glamorous, I know. 

I love lists. I love crossing things off lists. It's an indication of progress. I hate those 5 things that crop up every week. Even when I cross them off a weekend list I know they will be back at the top next weekend. Why do I do it then? Some weeks.... most weeks, not everything is done but if I watch 6 episodes of Midsomer Murder instead of dusting ceiling fans I can't pretend that I forgot. I don't like to give myself an opportunity for excuses.

The problem is that once you cross something off a list it should be complete. Finished. Move on. It can be frustrating and annoying to go back and do the same thing over and over again. 

Working with horses. Sigh.

I tend to write blog posts about working with Matilda when something spectacularly wonderful happens. I gloss over all the struggles in a paragraph or two then spend 5 paragraphs on a story that took 5 minutes to experience.

I found those canter steps in my last blog post about Matilda. Then they were gone. I've looked. She's hiding them from me. I have found lots of head tosses, kicks, maybe even some bucks. I have thrown my crop into the center of the ring out of frustration. I haven't screamed... but only because I didn't want to scare anybody.

When things fall apart, there's only one thing to do: work on a circle.

The Habit of Fear (Nov 2013)

Habit:  (hăb'ĭt) n.

1. 1. A recurrent, often unconscious pattern of behavior that is acquired through frequent repetition.
   2. An established disposition of the mind or character.
2. Customary manner or practice: a person of ascetic habits.
3. An addiction, especially to a narcotic drug.
4. Physical constitution.
5. Characteristic appearance, form, or manner of growth, especially of a plant or crystal
6. A distinctive dress or costume, especially of a religious order.
7. A riding habit.

Fear: n.

1. A  feeling of agitation and anxiety caused by the presence or imminence of danger
2. A state or condition marked by this feeling:living in fear.
3. A feeling of disquiet or apprehension: a fear of looking foolish.
4. Extreme reverence or awe, as toward a supreme power.
5. A reason for dread or apprehension: Being alone is my greatest fear.

Fear is an interesting thing. I have a plethora of fears that I deal with on a daily basis. They range from the totally logical, self-preservation type fears to fears that I know are a little silly. I came across one that caught me off guard about a month back. I am still not exactly sure what I was afraid of but fear it was. Deep fear.

What triggered it? Anticipating a canter departure.

Riding at the Jump (Apr 2014)

When I talk to my students about jumping, I tell them that the most important part for them is the ride to the jump, away from the jump or between jumps. It is in this moment that you set your team up for success by creating straightness, good impulsion and balance. At the jump, the rider's job is to keep the horse moving forward and get out of the way so that the horse can do what is necessary to carry himself and his rider over the obstacle. The rider must trust the work they've done and let go for that crucial moment. It's a very uncomfortable moment, especially the first 500-1000 times you try it.

This is where I have found myself with Matilda over the past week. We have slowly been building successful canter transitions over the last months but then, a week ago, we participated in a training clinic held at our barn. We have a cowboy that is coming in to help those of us that are working on training projects, attempting to grow in this art of bringing along a horse.

Watching me ask for a canter from my girl, he then rode her himself. The upshot was that I was doing too much holding, too much contact work, too fast. The problems were coming because I my holding gives her something alternately holds her back or gives her something to pull against. I need to work on a loose rein in the trot and the canter....

We trot on a loose rein but the idea of cantering without constant contact? That only touches on a couple dozen fear triggers. I mean what if she bolts and I can't gather up the reins fast enough? What if she stumbles and I can't support her? What if I fall backwards because I balance myself with my hands and don't realize it? What if she bolts and I can't stay on this time? Scary stuff for me.

I refused at first. Even after watching Our Cowboy ride a beautifully, smooth canter with no contact at all, I just didn't know if I could do it.

I was coming to the jump but had no confidence in.... anything.

Fortunately, he gave me some time to think about it.

Matilda and I have worked for a year at the walk and the trot. We have done transitions and circles until I thought I would scream. We have worked on engaging her hind, yielding to pressure, listening to each other, softening her sides. I have worked on myself: deepening my heels, loose rein trot and jumping position so that I knew I wasn't balancing with my hands, developing a softer following seat... Maybe it was time, that night, to be pushed out of my comfort zone. Time to trust the work we have done and let go.

Broken, Not Dead (Jul 2015)

I started writing a post in April 2014 that I never finished. I was going somewhere with it and need to finish it.... someday. Someday soon, I hope.

I discovered the post today, during a reflective moment after working all day at Bramblewood's spring schooling show. I had to think about why I didn't finish that post.... since this blog has become something of a personal journal, it would be nice to say why I didn't finish that April 2014  blog post. Here goes:

By the end of May 2014: My family had an offer on our house after 3 years on the market. We found a new house and moved so that I would be closer to the barn. My commute went from >45 min to <15 min one-way 4-6 days each week.

End of June: Our brand new half acre was fenced for our 2 dogs. Summer Camps had started at the barn and our 'regular' teaching schedule was in flux...

July 2014: 《deep breath》I came off one of the horses mentioned in my March 2014 post. Broke 3 ribs + 1 concussion. First broken bones IN MY LIFE. Out of (teaching) work 3 days. Out of riding (forced) 6 weeks.

September 2014:  Released to ride again! I felt like I had to start a lot of things over for me and Matilda.

Fall, 2014: Took on Horse U, a program that Kim and I had been working on for over a year. To allow our farm to grow we had to divide and conquer. I love the theoretical and she loves to rope. (Given the audience, I'm pretty sure she wins... if there is such a thing as winning.)

Winter 2014-15: Holidays are tough when your closest family is 8+ hour away and there are no paid holidays. Please believe me, I am not complaining, just explaining possible behavior oddities....

We were also prepping to teach a mid-term college class that goes through the worst part of winter (Jan/Feb-Term).

We had barely started the college class when I had my car accident.

JANUARY 13, 2015 will be a date to remember and record. I had a choice. Matilda was "up" and it was cold and cloudy on the first day of our week. I decided to go home and eat lunch, rather than ride that "hot" mare.

A freak car accident on my way home to lunch shattered my right knee cap into 7 pieces.

1/15/15 (date looks cool, right?!?) My very first serious surgery. I had 2 pins and some wire put in to hold my knee together. Tommy Leong and the people at Upstate Orthopedic did some good work.

There were 4 weeks that I was on my backside and/or on crutches. No one really needs to know what I went through (mentally) during that time... it was tough

Everyone did their very best to hold me together but in February I decided we needed a puppy. Meet Jase....

I also started physical therapy with Advanced Therapy in Spartanburg.

In March, I was released to ride again.

They finally made it, though each in part, they sort of make a whole. Before 2015 ended, I was on my way to divorce and remarriage with the barn as my constant. 2015 was a big year.