Teachings of the Horse

Losing My Expectations

2012-02-25T07:46:00.003-05:00

“We always enter into relationships with expectations of what the relationship will do for us. This is true not only in romantic relationships but also in other areas—family, work, friends, and even casual encounters. More often than not, we’re not even aware of our expectations; but when we experience a relationship difficulty or conflict, it’s likely that our expectations are not being met.”
Ezra Bayda, “Beyond Happiness, The Zen Way to True Contentment”

When I recently came across this book by Ezra Bayda, my thoughts immediately went to my relationship with Siete. I am always lamenting that I do not have the closeness and trust with my little horse that I share with her mother.

“When our expectations aren’t met, difficulties automatically arise and we may experience disappointment, anger, or fear. Unfortunately, instead of looking inward to see our own expectations, we usually focus on who we can blame or how we can fix the situation. We’ll almost always view our relationship difficulties as problems to be solved, as obstacles to overcome.”

If I think about why I don’t feel any tension with Silk, I see that it’s because I don’t want her to “be” any particular way. I have always just loved her as she is. Rather than wishing things were different, I simply deal with what is and accept that she and I can work it out to make it better for her. So, why can’t I do that with Siete? Partly, it’s because I compare her to her mother, and they are very different personalities. Silk wants to be my partner and is glad to be with me, no matter what we are doing. Siete has a vibrant spirit, a strong will, and does not give a hoot about whether she is pleasing me or meeting my expectations. So, over the years, I’ve come to assume that when I have an expectation of how I want something to go with Siete, it’s often going to end up being a challenge or even a battle of wills.

“These difficulties are our exact path to freedom, in that they push us to go deeper into our life, to work with the very things that cause us so much unhappiness, namely, our demands that life, and others, be a particular way, and the sense of entitlement we have in thinking that we need to feel a particular way.”

Over and over again, Siete offers me life lessons and little tests of my confidence and my ability to communicate without using words. Spirit to spirit.

Memories of My Dad

2012-02-18T10:02:00.005-05:00

A friend of mine sent me a documentary about a couple of women who have bought some racehorses. They run the horses at Arlington Park outside of Chicago. It brought back a swell of memories about my father. Let’s start by explaining that my dad was afraid of horses. I started riding as soon as I could walk, and he only came to watch me at a few horse shows. All the pictures he took of me on a horse only show me, not the head or tail of the horse. They look like I’m sitting on a log. Yet, at the same time, he always took me to the races at Arlington Park, and he loved to watch the horses run there.

It was one of my favorite activities. He would give me four dollars, and we would pour over the race sheets figuring out our bets. My mother always put her money on the Polish jockeys. I insisted that I had to see the horses as they were saddled in the paddock before I made my choice. This involved a lot of running back and forth between our seats in the stands and the lovely green park behind the track and the betting windows. I would fall in love with one of the thoroughbreds and dream of magically finding it in my backyard when I got home.

There were distinct smells that I associate with the races. One was the intoxicating scent of horse. The other was the odor of spilled beer. And inside, near the betting windows, there were these carts that sold hot roast beef, ham or turkey sandwiches. They tasted as good as they smelled and were piled so high on fresh rye bread that my mom and I always shared one. My dad would stand with me at the rail during the race so we could cheer on our favorite horses. When I was really little, he’d hoist me up on his shoulders so I could see better. If one of us won, we’d rush inside to the windows to cash in and get a few dollars back so we could bet again. At the end of the day, if my dad won enough, he’d take us out to dinner. Miraculously, he always lucky enough that we could afford it. It was a ritual that continued every summer until I moved to New York City after college.

We also always watched the Kentucky Derby together on TV like it was the Super Bowl. My mom prepared special hors d’oeuvres and drinks. We placed bets, each putting a quarter into the pool. Even when I was living in a different city, I’d call him and stay on the phone through the whole race so we could cheer and comment on it together. It never occurred to me until I was watching the documentary about the racehorses yesterday that maybe my father wasn’t simply crazy about horseracing. He was probably doing this to make a closer connection with me. We really didn’t do much else together, since he was working most of the time. He was a country lawyer and a judge. He loved his work very much, and when poor health forced him to retire at age 79, he passed away the next year.

When I moved to San Diego, my brother-in-law gave us a present one Christmas of a day at the races at Del Mar. He knew some owners who had a box, and we took my mom and my daughter, who was about four years old and horse-crazy like I had been. We walked in, and I felt like I had fallen into a time warp. It looked and smelled exactly like I remembered Arlington Park all those decades ago. I gave my daughter four dollars, and we looked at the race sheets, ran out to see the horses in the paddock, and my husband put her up on his shoulders so she could watch the races. And I know that my dad was up there somewhere looking down on us with a big smile on his face.

My Darling Valentines

2012-02-14T06:59:00.004-05:00

Dear Silk and Siete,

You probably don’t remember
that it’s Valentine’s Day.
But that’s the reason for the
extra flake of hay.

You’re really no different than you’ve always been,
My secret weapons that keep me honest and true,
Responsive and soft, loyal through thick and thin.
Centered and loving no matter what I do.

So there will be an extra carrot in the buckets for you tonight
Just because you make my world so right.

Love you guys!

Happy Valentine's Day to all my friends -- peace and love

Attached to the Rest of the World

2012-02-04T10:26:00.009-05:00

This has been a challenging week for me. Every day, there seemed to be a small, specific drama that needed my full attention and totally took me away from whatever I had planned to do to keep my life and work moving in the direction that I had set for myself.

My mom, my daughter, my husband and the puppy were all pulling at me so I felt like my arms and legs were stretched out as far as they could go in each direction. At the same time, I was so tired that I couldn’t wait to throw myself into bed each night. Everything was annoying -- from waiting in line for hay for 45 minutes at the farm only to find that the horse trailers in front of me took all the second cut this week to Stella grabbing the reading glasses that I bought my husband for Christmas and chewing them to bits. Listening to the news, the ugly politics and fighting didn't help restore my balance. It felt like the whole world was having a hissy fit. So as much as I hate to do it, I ignored everyone else's problems. It was just one of those weeks to test my patience.

As usual, the only place that I felt like I could find peace was in the barn. Silk and Siete had no complaints for me. They were content to have their necks scratched or just stand at my side and be okay. Horses have no “inner voices” reminding them that they are not trying hard enough or doing what they are supposed to do. They tune into energy, reading the “Qi” ( or “Chi”) that is all around and inside of them. It’s almost as if we human beings are at polar opposites from them. We pride ourselves on our mastery of words and our brains’ abilities to solve problems. We think to an excess, and our daily activities are constantly buzzing with sound and information.

My escapes with the horses gave me an opportunity to notice the angle of the light on the trees and the way that the days are starting to get longer. The silence out there allows me to find a spaciousness inside of myself where I can just stop thinking and be. How lucky I am to have such a powerful retreat just outside my back door. Now, I just need to find a way to carry that feeling around with me throughout my day.

“When one tugs at a single thing in nature, he finds it attached to the rest of the world.”  
John Muir

Winter At Last

2012-01-21T10:13:00.004-05:00

It’s hard to believe that January is three-quarters over and we’re just getting the first real snow of the winter. It’s a soft, fluffy, gentle snow, and I have to admit that I enjoyed going out to the barn early this morning before the rest of the world was awake.

I was lucky to get a new Mountain Horse winter parka as a Christmas gift this year. It feels like I’m in a cave when I wear it with the hood up. It’s so cozy and waterproof that I am ready to venture out regardless of what Mother Nature throws down in my path.

Stella and Siete are snow bunnies. The puppy leaps into the air and tries to eat the snowflakes as they fly through the air. My little horse races around in the pasture, flinging snow and then running to catch it. I keep trying to photograph her, but she’s so fast that I just get a blur. Silk peers warily out of her stall door, forever the California Princess who hates to get her feet cold.

There’s no pressure on days like this. We don’t need to go anywhere or do anything. The fire is burning, and I just made some muffins and another pot of coffee. It’s a good day to be a couch potato.

I just received a note from an old friend, who sent this quote:

"If you let go a little
you will have a little happiness.
If you let go a lot you will have a lot of happiness.
If you let go completely you will be free."
Ajahn Chah

Rivers of Stone

2012-01-14T11:14:00.004-05:00

This is the time of year when trail riding and walking in the woods is the best, if you can bundle up enough against the cold. One of the things that I love about New England is the stonewalls that flow like mysterious veins through the woods here. The walls are so personal, each one with a story about the person who placed the stones in that particular, artistic way. There’s no doubt in my mind that this kind of masonry is art.

When I first moved here, I wondered why so many of the walls were lodged into the deepest woods. Then, I realized that this land was once cleared of trees, and the walls separated fields and property lines. There are still a few farms near our house, but over a hundred years ago, as the Industrial Revolution spread across the East Coast, most of the farms disappeared. I love the idea of the trees taking back the land, starting as little volunteers sheltered by the stonewalls. Now, I live at the edge of this deep, thick forest, watching the give and take between these towering trees and crumbling walls.

I am doing a video with an artist who draws her inspiration from nature, so I’ve been spending more time in the woods this week. I also watched a wonderful documentary about Andy Goldsworthy called “Rivers and Tides”. He talks about time being a great teacher. He says it is relentless, especially as he works in nature: “Time is coming up behind me.” He believes that we often misread the landscape when we just see it as “pretty” or “pastoral”, missing the dark side of it. The stones, to him, are the guardians, protecting something. Living in the same place for a long time allows you to see the progression and appreciate the river of growth that flows through the trees and the land.

One of my favorite things about Goldsworthy’s art is that he makes each work and “takes it to the edge of its collapse. That’s a beautiful balance.” The violent ice storm this October literally tore some of the biggest trees in half. Huge hairy limbs still dangle overhead, waiting for the wind to release them. It looks like the forest is having a bad hair day. Trails that had been carefully carved over time are now covered with wild, twisted branches and logs. Winter in our woods is the time of year to really appreciate the flow and energy between the living and the river of stone.

Time to Re-Balance

2012-01-08T19:28:00.003-05:00

I watched Silk and Siete eat their breakfast this morning, and my mind was full of “I should have’s”. Mostly, my thoughts centered on my battle to keep the endless mud off of their legs and hooves. I washed their muddy paws yesterday, but I could see that I probably ought to have another go at make their socks white again today. Silk had little abscesses in three of her hooves earlier this week. I ran out of Animalintex so I didn’t poultice them last night, and I wondered if I should have. For most of the month of December, I was running a litany in my head of all the things that I didn’t get around to doing. Then, I got really sick.

There’s a flu/cold virus that is sweeping across our town, and after three years of being healthy, I caught it bad. For several weeks, I told myself that I could kick it without antibiotics, but I knew that my energy level just wasn’t strong enough. I finally gave and went to the doctor. The meds were so strong that they cured the sinus infection but really upset my stomach. I did what I had to do. After taking pills for ten days, I’m glad to report that I'm so much better that my whole outlook on life has brightened again.

At the same time, I knew that this was a powerful message for me to take the time as we move into 2012 to re-balance myself. I need more time being silent and alone with my horses. I have two goals, one small and one quite large, that haven’t been achieved yet. It is so easy to just tell myself that they don’t matter or that it’s too much work to make them happen. Recently, I’ve sort of put my dreams on hold and in doing that, temporarily lost the will to persevere. I’m not going to beat myself up over this. There was a detour this year where I went down a path that wasn’t working for me. I’m thankful that I had the strength and understanding to stop and turn around. As soon as I did, I was given a wonderful gift of a new video camera that has sent me off in a very challenging and exciting direction. So, as we enter the new year, and the antibiotics clear the fog from my brain, I’m receiving little sparks of inspiration and I’ve dusted off those dreams so I can get them back on their feet again.

I also vowed not to worry about my horses so much. This weather is so weird with temperatures as low as 6 degrees one night and then back up into the 50’s two days later. No wonder Silk got the abscesses. The ground went from muddy to frozen hard moon craters overnight. Rather than jump to dire conclusions about all the other things that could be wrong with my senior horse, I told myself that it was lucky to just be abscesses, which I know how to fix. I assured Silk that she would be running around again in no time.

Tonight, as I brought out the buckets at dinnertime, Silkie trotted eagerly across the pasture to her stall with no sign of distress. Score one for thinking positive and taking care of what needed to be done. Now, if I can just keep that up for the rest of 2012…..

Happy 2012!

2012-01-01T10:17:00.001-05:00

Have patience with everything unresolved in your heart
  and to try to love the questions themselves  
as if they were locked rooms
or books written in a very foreign language.   
Don’t search for the answers,
which could not be given to you now,   
because you would not be able to live them.

  And the point is, to live everything.    

Live the questions now.   
Perhaps then, someday in the future,  
you will gradually,  
without even noticing it,
 live your way into the answer.
  ~ Rilke

Countdown to Christmas

2011-12-18T09:09:00.008-05:00

We’re coming into the homestretch here for Christmas, and around our house, things are moving a bit slower than usual this year. I’ve been wrapped up in a big project creating a book for my 97-year old mother that I’ve titled “A Hero’s Journey”. It tells her brave and amazing story during World War II as the only woman in the Polish Parachute Brigade and as the director of a United Nations camp after the war for displaced people who had been in concentration camps. I used audio interviews that we’ve recorded throughout the years, so the stories are told in her own voice. I’ve illustrated it with photos of her life, and I came to a new realization as I looked at the finished book. Even though there was a period in her life for about six years from 1939 to 1945 that was really tough and frightening (and definitely marked her forever), my mother’s 97 years have been mostly filled with happiness and love. I gave her the book early since I decided that every day is fragile and precious when you are her age and I wanted to be sure that she was cognizant to appreciate what she was looking at. It was overwhelming for her as she flipped through all the pages of photos and stories, but I think that she feels something important has now been preserved for her granddaughter and all the great grandchildren who will never actually meet her.

So, now I’m moving on to baking cookies and cranberry-orange bread and filling the house with all the sentimental decorations that we’ve collected over the years. For our family, the holidays are a time of remembrance. Our tree has ornaments that go all the way back to the one my first grade teacher made for me and the felt and glitter mitten that my husband’s grandmother made for him. There are little bells on it that were from my grandparent’s 50th anniversary cake. We’ve got lots of horses and cowboy boots and chili pepper lights from our years living out West, which are regarded as very exotic here in New England. As my daughter grows older, she appreciates decorating the tree more and more because each treasure that is hung on it comes with a good story.

Out in the pasture, Silk and Siete are really enjoying this mild weather in December and the lack of snow and ice. It’s cold at night, but they have such thick coats this year that even though it goes down into the 20’s, I haven’t been blanketing them. The supplements that I’ve given them for the past couple of months have made a huge difference in their health and energy levels. Silk’s back right hoof has improved dramatically, and she is moving so well that I feel a rush of happiness and relief each time I see her run past me. We are what we eat, and the horses are both visible reminders to me that I need to keep up my own nutrition.

If you are able to take 10 minutes to really improve your state of mind, please check out this link to a TED talk given by filmmaker Louie Schwartzberg. It is a perfect message that captures the meaning of gratitude and it’s guaranteed to make you smile:
(for some reason, the link feature on blogspot isn't working, so you'll have to paste this into your browser. I'll try to fix it in a while to see if I can get it to work - sorry!)

http://tedxtalks.ted.com/video/TEDxSF-Louie-Schwartzberg-Grati/player?layout=&read_more=1

HAPPY THANKSGIVING!

2011-11-24T06:47:00.003-05:00

"There are really three medicines that you should put in your medicine bundle every day: the power of genuine acknowledgement and gratitude, genuine apology, and the spirit of laughter and joy."

Angeles Arrien

Let us take care of the children, for they have a long way to go

Let us take care of the elders, for they have come a long way

Let us take are of those in between, for they are doing the work

Mia Puppia

2011-11-23T13:32:00.002-05:00

It feels so right to have a dog in my life again. Stella is a perfect companion for running errands or driving up to visit my mother. She goes everywhere I go most of the time. I’ve never had a dog that loves to ride in the car as much as this one. Sometimes, when she’s all hyped up with puppy energy, I take her for a quick turn around the block to mellow her out.
Stella also likes to sniff more than any dog I’ve ever had. It’s all about sniffing, every time we go outside. I am wondering what she’ll do when we have the Christmas tree in the house. Pepper used to crawl up next to the stand and sleep underneath it, and I always thought that she dreamed about the forest. We called it “Pepper’s tree” each year. Now, it’s time for new doggie rituals for the holidays.

When Stella was really little, we got her a soft harness that had “Puppia” written on the front. I nicknamed Stella “mia puppia”. My daughter calls her “Guppy”, which also seems to suit her. She is so goofy and sweet.

Silk is very jealous, and acts totally disgusted each time the door from the house opens and the little black creature emerges with me in tow. She is used to getting my undivided attention. Now, I have to tie Stella to the post at the cross-ties and make sure she has a stick to chew on before I can dispense carrots to the horses. And speaking of chewing wood, when we came back from buying hay on Sunday, our dear pup had shredded and eaten a log that was on the woodpile next to the fireplace in the living room. I was really worried that she was going to get blocked by a chunk of wood in her stomach. I kept recalling how a puppy that belongs to a friend of ours ate the elbow off her sweater and had a $3000 surgery to remove it from her tummy. Luckily, Stella threw up twice and seems to have gotten over it. I’m looking for an attractive covered box to store our logs this winter.

When I’m playing with Stella and she’s racing around, leaping happily, people who stop to talk to me sometimes comment on how wild she is. It makes me laugh since Stella is only six months old and one of the reasons that I’m standing there encouraging her to be a crazy dog is so that when I get home, I’ll have a calm one. Soon enough, she’ll be old and lazy like the rest of us.

Powering On

2011-11-11T08:14:00.001-05:00

When you live in a house without any electricity or heat or hot water for nine days, your reality changes. Luckily, we had a small generator, so we were able to keep lights on and the furnace running and the refrigerator working for about half of each day. We shut down at night, and it was really dark and cold. Some nights, the temperature dipped into the 20’s. Still, we were in better shape than our neighbors who didn’t have generators. Our house became the central haven for them, and their lives became intertwined in ours with both the benefits and annoyances of that kind of closeness. Towards the end of this ordeal, my husband had to go on a business trip, so my daughter and I were pushed out of our comfort zones even further.

The hardest moments in each day were the beginning and the end of generator operation. In total blackness, at 6 am, I would crawl out from under my down comforter and layer up all the clothes that I had carefully assembled next to the bed. Grabbing my trusty flashlight, I would stumble downstairs and open the garage door. Balancing the flashlight, I had to drag the generator out to the driveway and connect all the electric cords. Then came the part I liked the least. I’d have to open the choke, turn on the switch and yank the cord as hard as I could to start the motor. Without a cup of coffee in me, it was tough to pull up with all my might and get that baby going. If I didn’t manage to start it after three pulls, I had to stop and let the motor rest so I didn’t flood it. That was usually about the time that I loudly started praying to every god, saint and dead family member that I could think of to help me get this --- machine started already. And each time, it would work, thank you very much. I’d stagger back into the basement, flip the transfer switch and turn on all the circuits that were wired to it, knowing that the coffee pot would be working when I got back upstairs to the kitchen.

At the end of the night, I made my daughter go out with me to power down, since it was so dark and I didn’t have enough hands to turn everything off and hold the flashlight. There was such comfort in having her next to me as we plunged to silent blackness. On Sunday night, the utility company had promised that 99% of us would have power. We were in the 1% that were still in the dark. I actually was able to get the mayor of our town on the phone, and she told me that because there were only 10 houses on my street and the pole needed to be replaced and there were so many hours of work to fix everything, the utility company didn’t think it was worth the effort since it wouldn’t give them enough houses to reach their 99% goal. At least she was honest, and I could tell that she genuinely felt sorry for me. It didn’t help that I learned that the power company plans to raise our rates to pay for this disaster, and the COO of the company supposedly got a 31 million dollar bonus last year.

We did get the power back on in time for my birthday on Wednesday. That was enough of a present for me, but my husband surprised me with a new laptop computer. Sadly, once we transferred all the files off of my old computer, we discovered that the new one is defective and has to be sent back to be replaced. So, here I am, typing away on my trusty old dinosaur, which is fortunately still working. I’ve pretty much filled up the 30 gig available on it, and the new machine has 500 gig, which is so exciting that I can’t wait to actually be able to use it. Steve Jobs, I hope that you’re up there keeping everyone at Apple on their toes since it does feel a bit like there’s no one in charge over there anymore.

The horses weathered all of this drama without any problem, and I am grateful for that. Our sweet little doggo, Stella, had an operation and was spayed on Monday, so we are supposed to keep her from running and jumping for two weeks while her stitches heal. That’s not easy, to say the least. She’s totally back to her normal happy puppy behavior. All in all, we have been very fortunate that we were able to stay safe and healthy here. I’ve been thinking a lot about how much I rely on technology and how different everything is when there is no phone, cable TV or Internet. Reading in bed with a flashlight gets old really fast. On the positive side, we were all forced to talk to each other a lot more and we all took the time to notice how many bright, beautiful stars were in the sky each night.

Now, as I continue to navigate each day along the roads of our town, between the carcasses of huge fallen trees that continue to remind us of the intense power of Mother Nature, I’m trying to absorb the lessons I learned so we can handle this situation better next time. And yes, let’s not kid ourselves, there will be a next time.

Blogging in the Dark

2011-11-01T09:49:00.002-04:00

We lost power on Saturday night as the snow was falling. I'm so thankful that we have a generator and that my husband was home. He had just returned from a long business trip. I was able to stockpile food for all of us, two and four legged. We have firewood. It's getting harder to find gas for the generator, and over 95% of our town is out of power, as is most of the state. There are no estimates of when they will be able to restore everything.

It was an instant replay of the hurricane, only with a foot of snow. There was total silence on Saturday night, broken only by loud cracks and pops and crashing noises as huge trees fell. We lost a big oak that crushed our lovely dogwood tree. A 75 year old maple, really huge, fell from our front yard across the road, splitting a telephone pole in half. Big branches from the ash tree came down on the power lines from the street to the house.

Sunday morning, as I ventured out to feed the horses at 6:30 am, I was so relieved to see that nothing had fallen near the barn. The girls are calm and mellow. I haven't let them out in the pasture yet since the snow is melting fast and there's a lot of water under it. The temperatures are supposed to warm up to almost 60 today. The phone and Internet come and go, and right now I'm so thankful that we have a way to connect with the outside world. They won't make any estimates when power will be restored, but we're thinking it might be as long as a week more of this crazy camping out lifestyle.

I'll try to get some photos up later. This certainly makes me not take forgranted the basics of living.

The Wisdom of Old Mares

2011-10-16T09:13:00.003-04:00

The wisdom of old mares and growing older has been swirling around in my consciousness this week. Billie at Camera-Obscura wrote a beautiful post about her 28 year old horse, Salina. As I mentioned earlier, Linda Kohanov talks about the importance of her mare, Rasa, in guiding her towards her life’s work. Since I’ve been facing some challenges and choices on my own path recently, I have been spending more time with Silk, my 23 year old soul sister.

My farrier told me that he doesn’t think I should ride Silk anymore. At first, it made me very sad to contemplate not being able to sit on her back and wander around on the trail with her anymore. What drew me to Silk from the first time I rode her was that she seemed to be able to read my mind. In the beginning, I thought that it was unique to us and a little bit frightening for me to be able to communicate with my horse without saying or doing anything. Then, I began to find other women who had similar experiences with their mares, and I came to appreciate that there is a connection between some of us and our female horses that is a wonderful gift.

There is no one else on earth, human or animal, that accepts me and appreciates me the way that Silk does. People see it in the way that she looks at me and often comment on it. I have no doubt that if I asked Silk to walk through a flaming building with me, she would do what I said we must do. That kind of trust is only possible if it goes both ways, and I have learned to listen to Silk with a closeness that sometimes seems odd to anyone watching us. So, I have come to the understanding that whether I ride her or walk beside her is insignificant. We still have a lot to talk about and share with each other.

There is a pervasive climate of fear in our country right now. I see it changing the way that my neighbors and my friends behave and think. So, some of the choices that I make these days have to do with focusing on the positive implications of what happens in my life rather than the negative. There’s enough negative energy flying around to sink us if we keep stirring it up.

Clarissa Pinkola Estes, who is working on a new book about wise old women, has good advice about how to deal with this problem: “Consider that most fear is not fear of failure: rather, it’s fear to live fully, in full power. Choose your petty fears carefully, because they can grow truly big teeth. Instead, draw your attention here…I have several fears I would like you to have…Fear these: Fear not loving while you have the chance. Fear becoming bitter. Fear cynicism. Fear turning to stone. Fear living underwhelmed by everything.”

When I am standing with Silk in the barn or in the pasture, I can feel her strength, and just putting my hands on her back or her neck, I am able to draw from it. If I am wavering or hesitating about following what my intuition is telling me to do, I go to my horse, and she lets me know that I have the power to trust myself. That is the gift these old mares give those of us who are lucky enough to live with them.

Autumn Update

2011-10-14T12:41:00.004-04:00

My days have been filled to the brim over the last month with video projects, dog training and juggling horse care and the hectic schedule of my 16 year old daughter. So, even though I hate to see the torrential rain we are getting today that is flooding the corral and pasture, I also welcome the excuse to hide in the house and take a break. Silk and Siete are huddled in Siete’s stall with some outrageously good hay, so they’ve got no complaints. Stella and I have already been for an hour-long trek in the hills, and I’ve kicked the soccer ball so she can chase it about 200 times today. She has almost inexhaustible energy and is growing about two inches a day.

I’ve started Siete on D-Carb Balance, a supplement that I hope will help her lose weight, strengthen her immune system and keep away the hoof abscesses. She’s not crazy about the taste of it, but since it’s all that she finds in her bucket, she eats it. We had a good week of dry weather, so both horses were able to get out and run around without any mud. We’ve had so much rain that our grass just keeps growing, and the leaves on the trees are not falling or changing colors as vigorously as they usually do. It’s really weird and doesn’t feel like the usual crisp autumn we love.

Last week, I took some time to listen to a couple of interviews with Linda Kohanov about her new book, The Power of the Herd. I always find it stimulating to catch up on what Linda is thinking, and these conversations with Mark Mottershead were both thought-provoking and astonishingly honest. She discusses the death of her beloved horse, Rasa, and the leadership challenges that she has faced with her Epona programs. One of my favorite things that she talks about is how horses ask us to develop “emotional courage”. Certainly, this is true of both my horses, and I am grateful to them for teaching me how to stand my ground without being dominating or argumentative. I recommend that you check out what Linda is doing these days at www.poweroftheherd.com/

Recently, I’ve been stretching myself creatively, and I’m embarking on a new phase in my work as a film-maker. I’ve started shooting and editing my own projects -- going solo. It feels like I’ve come full circle back to when I was in college making documentaries. I’m hoping to create a very natural and comfortable rapport with my subjects where the camera becomes almost invisible to them. As I get my sea-legs on this new adventure, I’ll be asking Silk and Siete to participate with me. So, there will be some videos coming to my blog soon. All this new technology is so seductive that I find myself renewed and excited by the idea of a video journal.

“The important thing is not to stop questioning. Curiosity has its own reason for existing. One cannot help but be in awe when he contemplates the mysteries of eternity, of life, of the marvelous structure of reality. It is enough if one tries merely to comprehend a little of this mystery every day. Never lose a holy curiosity.”
Albert Einstein

Mother Nature's Wild Ride

2011-09-06T10:16:00.002-04:00

The stress level around here has been a bit extreme. The Thursday before Hurricane Irene began her crazy run up the East Coast, my husband had the good sense to pick up a generator. We couldn’t find an electrician who would wire up a transfer switch immediately, so Mark rolled up his sleeves and figured out how to do it himself. I was busy securing the barn and the house and getting provisions. My daughter was going to have a big back to school party on Saturday night, so there was lots of agonizing about whether to re-schedule it.

As we watched the frenzied, fear provoking weather reports, I began having nightmares about trying to reach the horses in the barn during the storm, which they said would go on for 24 hours. And I was really worried that the huge hickory tree which stands over the barn would fall on it. So, Saturday morning, I made arrangements to walk the horses up the hill to my friend’s concrete block barn. It was a bit scary since the wind was blowing hard and there were dogs barking like crazy behind an electric fence. Just after we got Silk and Siete inside their stalls, the rain started to pour. My friend reassured me that he would somehow make it out to the barn on Sunday morning to feed the girls no matter how bad it was blowing. My husband was frantically running around trying to find some of the connectors for the generator since everything was sold out. He managed to finally locate what he needed, but for a while it was a bit tense since it looked like the generator wasn’t going to be ready in time.

Saturday night, we started out sleeping in our beds, but around midnight, Maark woke me and suggested that we move to the pull-out couch in the living room. We have big beech trees next to the house, and we were worried that they might come crashing through our roof. We dragged the puppy crate downstairs with us and almost as soon as we all snuggled up together, there was a huge crash from across the road, and the power went out. About a half hour later, there was a big explosion around the corner as the transformer blew. Then, at 5 am, the wind was so strong that there were a series of four large cracking explosions as the trees in the woods around us started to break and topple. My daughter leaped up and announced, “We’re going to the basement!” We grabbed the dog and the cat and went downstairs to our little nest that we had carved in one corner. I could see out the window in the garage, and these huge trees were bending and waving around like they were feathers. We had a radio so we could listen to a New York City station as they broadcast updates on Irene’s approach. At 7 am, the basement started flooding and we fired up the generator to get the sump pump working. We edged our way cautiously back upstairs where the coffee maker and the donuts were. Around 8, our neighbors started showing up on our doorstep, and we had a little impromptu party gathered around the TV. By mid-afternoon, I was able to go up to my friend’s barn to see Silk and Siete. Getting there wasn’t easy since trees and downed power lines blocked all directions except one. I had a winding route that took an extra ten minutes, but I was able to reach them. The horses were totally fine, and I was so grateful that I had made the decision to move them.

Unfortunately, one of the other two horses who live in the barn decided that she hated my girls. The next day, when we turned them out in separate pastures, this psycho mare tried to tear down the fence and attack Siete. She was rearing and screaming and biting, but Silk just got right up next to her with the fence between them and peed in her face. The crazy horse stopped suddenly and sniffed Silk’s butt and then backed off. Soon after, she raced towards the fence again, and she and Siete started to snort and carry on. Again, Silk stepped right in between them. The owner of the barn was really worried that the psycho horse would crash through the fence and get hurt. I put my girls back in their stalls and started to plan an exit strategy. Luckily, my neighbor down the road who has a big hunter/jumper barn agreed to help me and bring her trailer up as close as she could get, given all the downed lines and trees. We were able to walk Silk and Siete around to the trailer and bring them near enough to walk to our house. Our little narrow street was the only one open to traffic, so it had become a major throughfare. Then, as cars drove past at 40 mph, my husband and I led the horses back to our yard. It was scary but nobody spooked. When Silk saw her own barn, she was so happy that she actually whinnied. Both of the girls were amazingly good even in all these strange, tense situations, and I couldn’t be more proud of them.

We had no power for five days, which makes for some strange routines. I was just relieved to have the horses back in our barn and to have water for all of us, even though we didn’t have enough room on the generator for the hot water heater. Oh those cold showers! The barn flooded, but we were able to drain it and dump a dozen bags of wood pellets in the stalls to dry things up. The corral and the pasture and the ditch were just starting to clear up but now it’s pouring again. We’re going to get 3 inches of rain today and tomorrow, which seems like no big deal compared to the 10 inches that Irene brought us.

Mostly, we feel like we were very lucky. If Irene had been stronger, with 80 mph winds, the damage would have been so much worse. During the middle of the storm, my daughter was really frightened and I told her, “Mother Nature is beautiful and cruel. This is a reality check for all of us, a reminder that even though we think we control everything, we don’t.” We love our magnificent old trees, but this experience has taught us a good lesson. This week, I’m going to call the tree trimmer and see about taking down the hickory and thinning the beech trees since we won’t be moving the house or the barn. Hurricane season continues through October, and I hope that this wasn’t just a practice run.

Adapting the RItual

2011-08-20T08:39:00.005-04:00

I have a new partner in my morning routine. Stella is now waking up at 6 am, having slept through the night in her crate like a good little puppy. I actually get up first at 5:30, sneak stealthly downstairs , avoiding the step that squeaks, since Stella sleeps in my daughter’s room. After some quality snuggle time with Velcro, who is still playing the role of the disgruntled cat, I make coffee and go back to wake up the pup.

First, we tumble down the stairs and out the front door to take care of business. I don’t use the back door because it will alert Siete and Silk. They will both dig holes to China in their stalls if they have to wait too long for breakfast, so sshh! don’t tell them . Then, back in the kitchen, I feed both Stella and Velcro and pound down some coffee. Fortified, we’re ready to greet the horses, which I regard as the official start of every day.

At first, Stella was afraid of the tack room and the garage door that growls as it opens to reveal all those bales of hay stored there. I really didn’t want to make this feeding ritual turn into a frantic battle of wills, so I tied her leash to one of the cross-ties. This seems to be a satisfying grounding post for both of us. Siete and Silk stick their heads out of their stalls and begin talking to me from across the yard. I can answer them, fill the feed buckets and grab a couple of flakes of hay without a whirling dervish of puppy tangling the leash around my legs. Stella finds the “stick of the day”, usually the largest branch she can fit in her mouth, and settles down to gnaw on it.

When I’ve got all the essentials together, we cross the yard to the barn. Stella proudly marches with her oversized prize in tow, leaving me to carry the buckets and hay. I tie her to the pasture gate while Silk complains that I’ve got that crazy black creature with me again and that I need to hurry up because can’t I see that there are horses that are starving here? Stella sits like a puppy poster child observing everything I do as I feed horses and fill water buckets and open stall doors. When I’m done and it’s time to go back to the house, Stella carefully places her prized stick through the metal pipes just on the other side of the gate inside the pasture like an offering. Siete wanders out and sniffs it but chooses the hay that I’ve left next to the water bucket.

Recently, I realized that I had stopped taking the extra moment to appreciate the angle of the sun rising over the trees and the sounds of horses munching hay and the Canadian geese honking as they fly by over our heads. So, this morning, I made Stella wait a few more minutes while we just soaked up the glories of the beginning of a late summer day.

What I Wish For

2011-08-07T08:02:00.003-04:00

Daughter: “Mom! Stella nipped me.”
Silk: “Nmmm, nmmm!”
Daughter: “Can’t you make her stop? Stella, quit! Why is she doing this?”
Velcro (disgruntled feline): “Meow! Meow!” and “Meow!”

For two years, I have really missed not having a dog. It was the first time in over 20 years that we hadn’t had one. Now, the reality of living with a puppy and training her is fully eclipsing our lives. Stella is a 16th birthday present for my daughter, who wants to train her to be a therapy dog. The puppy has already been going to the nursing home with us to visit my mom and the other residents, and she obviously loves it. She has a natural attraction to people, whether they are old and in a wheelchair or little and sitting in a stroller. I am very grateful that she has such a sweet and gentle way with everyone.

That said, she is also a puppy. When Stella arrived, she got sick with a parasite called coccidia that probably came from her mother. It’s been a big challenge, involving medication and vomiting in the crate in the middle of the night. Fortunately, she appears to have gotten over it. She has also become more comfortable and settled in as a member of our family. Now, Stella is trying to figure out her place in the pecking order of the pack. She’s testing us, along with teething, and we’ve nicknamed her “piranha pup”.

Meanwhile, out in the barn, some of us are feeling very neglected, with good reason. Each time I come out the back door, instead of heading to fill water buckets or dispense flakes of hay, I now have a little black creature in tow and I’m focused on whether she is peeing or pooping. “Good dog, good job!” doesn’t sound anything like “Good horse!” to my girls, who are standing at the fence, heads hanging over forlornly. Silk is mastering the art of the guilty stare. My husband even came into the family room yesterday and said, “Silk needs you right now.” I rushed out to reassure her that she is still number one in my heart and that this puppy fussing will stop eventually.

Just like when Siete was a foal, we are at a critical stage with this little dog. How we treat her every moment will shape the kind of responses that she will have to everything in the world as she grows up. Doing it now, while she is only fifteen pounds is much easier than when she is 50 or 80 pounds. If I can convince two 1200 pound horses to trust me and respect me and love to spend time with me, I can teach this puppy what she needs to know to navigate through this world happily and successfully.

What I am reminded over and over, even in the middle of the night when Stella wakes us up and has to go out, is that the key to getting along with anyone is your energy. If I am grumpy and resentful about having to stagger outside in the pitch black in my pyjamas at 2 am, the puppy won’t want to “do a good job” and will start getting all revved up and nip at my ankles. When I am as Zen calm as I can possibly be, she will curl up on my foot and sleep while I drink my coffee at 5:30 am.

But just like it felt when I was waking up several times each night and nursing my human baby sixteen years ago, I also remember how exhausted, cranky and fragile I am when I’m sleep deprived. Be careful what you wish for, you just might get it.

So, let me go on record that I wish for a harmonious, relaxed home with calm, satisfied people and animals who love each other.

Meet Stella

2011-07-20T19:08:00.004-04:00

We have a new member of our family - Stella, This is a photo taken after her very long ride up to New England from Tennessee. Her mama is a Welsh Springer Spaniel named Zoe and her papa is a Black Labrador Retriever named Rocky. They are both great dogs. And Stella is 100 % wonderful! You may remember that our beloved Pepper was the same mix only her mom was a black lab and her dad was a Springer. It took us two years to find another dog with that good combo. My daughter is going to train Stella to be a therapy dog and take her to children's hospitals and nursing homes. We can tell that she's got the personality for it. She loves everyone and is a snuggle expert even at this early age.

That's all for now, but you'll be hearing and seeing more of this little angel soon. She's full of joy and just what we needed.

Go See "Buck" Now!

2011-07-17T19:49:00.004-04:00

Go see “Buck” right now. It’s in over 200 movie theatres around the country and it will make you feel so good. Director Cindy Meehl has never made a movie but after her second clinic with Buck Brannaman, she decided that she had to share what he taught her with as many people as she could. It's about people and their hopes and fears and anger and how the horses are wise enough to be able to heal them.

I hope that Cindy does incredibly well with this movie because it will help enormously to change people's views about horses and about not being ruled or tormented by what has happened in the past - allowing us all to move on.

I am so impressed by Guy Mossman, who is one of the cinematographers, and also shot the video I made up in Vermont a couple of summers ago about the family farm and Eco Apples. His work on “Buck” is breathtaking, allowing you to feel that you are right in the middle of what is happening. I was fortunate that Cindy Meehl's local movie theatre is also mine, so I was able to meet her and listen to her talk about making the movie. It is something that she can really be proud of accomplishing after many years of work.

In my own little corner of the world, things are really good around here right now - please don’t let me jinx anything! I can’t believe it’s been a month since I wrote a blog post, but I was getting tired of complaining and telling you about hoof and leg problems. So, at last, both horses are healed, and I am gradually getting over my back injury. I pinched a nerve when I was bailing out the barn after one of our Spring floods, but let’s not go back there anymore.

I will be blogging more frequently, I’m sure, since we are about to have something very exciting happen this Wednesday. So, I’ll be filling you in on that later in the week.

In the meanwhile, I’ll leave you with this thought from Buck Brannaman:

“Over the years, I’ve come across plenty of people who criticize me because they subscribed to the old-school methods of dominating a horse. They worked a horse as if they were going to war with it. And they were. If that’s the way you deal with your horses, it’s the way you deal with your fellow man as well. I just can’t subscribe to that primitive notion of forcing your will on a horse or a human…”
- From “Believe” by Buck Brannaman

Whew!

2011-06-16T14:34:00.004-04:00

Monday, Silk started limping on her back right leg. It was a little swollen and warm. I began soaking it and called my farrier to let him know that if things didn’t improve, I would need him to stop by later in the week. Then, yesterday in the middle of an incredibly busy afternoon, Siete was dramatically lame on her front left foot.

We had a huge rainstorm earlier in the week, after it had been dry for about five days. This is usually the perfect storm for the horses to develop abscesses. So, I was hoping and praying that this was the problem. Of course, you know me, I went to all kinds of other terrible places in my mind. I started with Siete having laminitis, since her foot was so warm and she was standing with her front legs spread wide, and then, I imagined Lyme Disease again. Even the dosing of 30 days of antibiotics seemed like it would be a blessing compared to laminitis. And let's not forget, I also had Silk to obsess about with her swollen back foot. The rough waters of the Sea of Worry were testing me. Like a mantra to calm myself, I kept coming back to “It’s just an abscess.”

Dropping every other ball I had in the air, I sent out frantic calls for Johnny, the farrier, and began soaking and packing Siete’s feet along with Silk’s. I gave them both some banamine, which helped ease the pain, and locked them in their stalls. I stopped feeding Siete any grain and soaked her hay. She only got a small handful for dinner. Johnny told me that he’d come by after lunch the next day. I didn’t sleep well last night, but was heard mumbling, ”only an abscess”.

It was so good to see two red heads poking out of the barn this morning. More soaking, more Animalintex poultices, more banamine and very little hay, but the girls were very mellow about it. I kept promising them that I would make them both feel better soon. I also called the vet and told her what was happening. She said it’s the season of the abscess with this dry and then extreme wet weather. She also told me to call her after Johnny was here and if he didn’t find anything, she’d stop by to look at them.

So, I wandered around for four hours, trying to get things done that I had abandoned yesterday, pretending that I wasn’t worried, hoping and praying, reassuring myself that I had two horse professionals who would help me figure this out today. And then, Johnny came.

It’s abscesses!!! Hooray! Who ever thought I’d be celebrating about hoof abscesses?

Score One for Mother Nature

2011-06-11T08:03:00.003-04:00

I opened the gate between the barn and the pasture yesterday and noticed something big and dark out in the grass. To my joy and amazement, it was a large snapping turtle about the size of a dinner plate. You may recall that last year, we had a tragedy when our resident mother turtle, an ancient creature about two feet in diameter, was hit by the school bus on the road in front of our house. I imagine that this new younger girl is probably one of her daughters. The big mama used to travel from the pond in the woods behind our house over to our neighbor’s yard across the street, lay her eggs and trek back to the pond at exactly this time every year for as long as anyone around here could remember. So, seeing another turtle follow her path was cause for celebration. I immediately closed the pasture gate to give her safe passage and called all of my neighbors to tell them the good news.

Then, I pulled Animal Speak, by Ted Andrews, off of my bookshelf to find out what the appearance of a turtle in my life might signify. The turtle is an animal whose magic can help you unite heaven and earth within your own life. It is sometimes known as “the keeper of doors”, crossing between land and water and between earthly and spirit realms. “If a turtle shows up, you may need to ask yourself some questions. Are you not seeing what you should? Are you not hearing what you should?” A snapping turtle may indicate the ability to grab and use the mouth, i.e. your voice, in new ways. “ Turtles remind us that the way to heaven is through the earth. In Mother Earth is all that we need.”

After about a half and hour, the turtle had successfully negotiated crossing the pasture, and I opened the gate so the horses could come out. The sun was shining, the temperature was back down to normal, and there was a great sense of renewal in the air. The night before, we had another huge scary thunderstorm, with two funnel clouds sighted within a few miles on either side of where we live. Many trees were knocked down, and on the other side of town, there was still no power. So we were very lucky, and Siete trotted around like she owned the world.

Everyone is talking about how crazy the weather is this summer, and I thought about a quote that I read in the NY Times from Paul Gilding’s book, The Great Disruption: Why the Climate Crisis Will Bring On the End of Shopping and the Birth of a New World: “When you are surrounded by something so big that requires you to change everything about the way you think and see the world, then denial is the natural response. But the longer we wait, the bigger the response required.”

“If you cut down more trees than you grow, you run out of trees,” writes Gilding. “If you put additional nitrogen into a water system, you change the type and quantity of life that water can support. If you thicken the Earth’s CO2 blanket, the Earth gets warmer. If you do all these and many more things at once, you change the way the whole system of planet Earth behaves, with social, economic, and life support impacts. This is not speculation; this is high school science.”

So, while Mother Nature reminds me that the cycle of life, at least as far as snapping turtles go, continues in good health, I also feel it’s time to start speaking out about how we are damaging the earth and making ourselves sick and scared when we actually have the capabilities to solve these problems that we have created. Denial is a slow seeping poison, and I try to keep it out of my life. I wish that other people would realize the damage that it can do.

Don't Dream Too Small

2011-06-09T10:45:00.002-04:00

At 2 am last night, it was as if someone blasted a spotlight over our house and slammed the door on the Universe. The lightning and thunder were so close that it shook me to my core. I leaped out of bed and ran downstairs to unplug the computers. Thank God, I had turned off the fan in the barn. The electrical hook-up out there is so funky that I don’t like to leave anything on while I’m not awake or nearby. It was still almost 90 degrees at nine o’clock last night, so I had kept the doors to the stalls open in front. I saw Siete rush in to be with her mommy, just like my daughter did with me when the next flash and crash struck.
So now, I was wide-eyed and jittery as the storm passed over us, and my child slept peacefully beside me. It gave me a chance to reflect on my life, as I am wont to do when I find myself sitting up in bed in the middle of a thunderstorm. This has been a week of milestones around here. It was our 19th anniversary on Monday, although my husband was out of town working so we haven’t celebrated it yet. Last year, the day after our anniversary was when my mother had her big dementia breakdown and ended up in the hospital. Looking back on how bad and scary it was, I thought that it’s truly a miracle how content and happy she is now. She lives in a nursing home that is so amazing. The people who work there are loving and devoted to enriching the residents’ lives. I never worry about whether she is being well-cared for and safe. And our own home is a much more relaxed and enjoyable place now that we don’t have all that stress and craziness.
In an effort to move on, my husband recently transformed my mother’s sitting room in the back of our house into my office. He set up my desk so I can look out the window at the horses, which gives me great pleasure. As I was moving my files and books, I found a folder in which I had written a list of goals back in 2007. I was sad to see that I had accomplished none of them. At the same time, it was interesting that they were all the same things that I still dream of today. It’s been bugging me, but last night, in between the lightning flashes, I had a realization. For some reason, it usually takes me six years to achieve whatever I am trying to do. I don’t know why that cycle repeats itself in my life, but this week is the beginning of the sixth year that we’ve lived here. So, maybe I am going to accomplish a few of those goals now. I heard a great line from someone yesterday: “Don’t dream too small.”
Meanwhile, with temperatures of almost 100 today, I’m focused on hosing down the horses and keeping them safe. As I’ve told Siete about ten times today already, “Drink water, little one.”

Not To Worry

2011-06-03T07:41:00.004-04:00

I was cleaning Silk’s hooves last week when I noticed that she had chipped a large chunk off her back right foot. Our farrier, Johnny, and I have been concerned about the way that Silk’s hoof had grown a strange flair and is angling out. We believe that she had an injury years ago and now, at 23, the arthritis and wear and tear on her back legs is causing it to twist slightly to the right. My old farrier suffered from a bad back during his last few months of working on the girls, and he wasn’t getting under them enough to do the job the way he should have. Johnny has slowly been trying to trim the hoof back to correct it. When I picked out Silk’s feet, I was alarmed that it appeared that the hoof wall was separating away in what seemed like white line disease, only more severe.

I had a small panic. The holiday weekend was just starting. Silk didn’t appear to be limping or in any pain, but I’ve never seen my horse’s feet look like that. There was a thick hoof wall and then a sizable crater. I put Animalintex and a boot on her and called the farrier. When he returned my phone call on Saturday morning, I wasn’t home. My husband explained my concern, and Johnny told him that he wasn’t worried. He said I should relax since it was her flaired back hoof not a front hoof, and that he would call me on Monday night to schedule when he would come out this week. Well, the reality was that I was worried, and Silk kept kicking her boot off and I didn’t like the way her foot looked at all. I even had a friendly neighbor who owns horses stop by to check it out. She agreed that she’s never seen anything that looked like that, although Silk seemed to be walking just fine. Okay -- I admit that many times, when I have other things worrying me, I transfer my anxiety to my horses’ well-being. I come up with some reason like this to stress out and avoid focusing on the non-horse-related problem. So, truth be told, there was some of that going on here.

On Monday night, Johnny called to tell me that he wouldn’t be able to get out to my place until Friday (today). He assured me again that since it was a back hoof, and she wasn’t even limping, it was probably not as bad as I thought. My voice did not sound convinced, and he could hear it. The next afternoon, as I was at the grocery store, my husband called to tell me that Johnny was in our driveway. He had some time in between jobs, and he came over to trim the horses four days early. I raced home and found my husband holding Silk while my farrier worked on her front hooves. It was a beautiful sight. As I’ve told you before, that Johnny is a good man.

It turned out that he had trimmed her back hoof so that it would grow this way to allow him to cut more off of it and not have her be sore. As soon as he pared away the hoof, the scary hollowed out part next to the hoof wall was totally leveled, and everything looked really fine. He was actually very pleased by how well she was coming along. The flair was practically gone, and after one more trim, she should be back to normal. He told me that it was really bugging him that I would probably be upset all the way until Friday, so he figured out a way to come the day after we spoke. I thanked him for being so considerate and pointed out that now, he could sleep later on Friday morning and I could sleep easier tonight.

When something is not okay with my horses, my mind has a tendency to fear the worst. It’s one of the lessons that I’m forced to learn over and over because I care too much and my sense of security is so dependent on everyone in the barn being healthy and happy. I should know by now that I over-obsess about every “off” moment that Silk and Siete have, and that as Silk is in her senior years, these little problems will most likely become more frequent. It reminds me that after decades of taking care of horses, I still have a lot to learn. When I assume something awful is about to happen, and it turns out to be the opposite and all good, there’s not only a flood of relief but also a big reminder that I need to stay open to the possibilities and not jump to dire conclusions.

EHV-1 Pay Attention!

2011-05-18T17:15:00.004-04:00

I was going to write about something else, but I think that it's more important to spread the word right now about the outbreak of EHV-I in the western part of the United States. The disease, Equine Herpesvirus, which can also be referred to as Rhinopneumonitis, has also been diagnosed in New Jersey and Colorado. The American Association of Equine Practitioners (AAEP) issued a statement:

"The EHV-1 organism spreads quickly from horse to horse but typically only causes neurological disease sporadically. However, in an outbreak of EHV-1 neurologic such as we are experiencing now, the disease can reach high morbidity and case fatality rates. The incubation period of EHV-1 infection is typically 1-2-days, with clinical signs of fever then occurring, often in a biphasic fever, over the following 10 days.
When neurological disease occurs it is typically 8-12 days after the primary infection, starting often after the second fever spike. In horses infected with the neurologic strain of EHV-1, clinical signs may include: nasal discharge, incoordination, hind end weakness, recumbency, lethargy, urine dribbling and diminished tail tone. Prognosis depends on severity of signs and the period of recumbency.
There is no specific treatment for EHV-1, although antiviral drugs (i.e. valacyclovire) may have some value before neurological signs occur. Non-specific treatment may include intravenous fluids, and other appropriate supportive therapy; the use of anti-inflammatory drugs (NSAIDs) is strongly recommended. Currently, there is no equine vaccine that has a label claim for protection against the neurological strain of the virus."

Our friend Mikey in Arizona has posted a very good message regarding safety issues and links for more information. Please pay attention and check it out. Let's all take the precautions that we need to keep our horses safe!

The Great Escape

2011-05-06T09:00:00.005-04:00

I was in the kitchen, loading the dishwasher and making a salad for lunch. My husband sat down in the family room to eat a sandwich. He took one bite and looked out the window just in time to see two red horses dancing through the front yard.

He called me, but I couldn’t hear him since our noisy old dishwasher was going full blast. So, he ran out, and just as Siete reached the end of the driveway and started to head down the road, he called out. “Hey, Siete, come here!”

To his amazement, she stopped and trotted towards him. Silk detoured to sample the gorgeous green grass in the front yard. My husband grabbed Siete’s halter and started to lead her back to the fenced-in pasture. Silk began running the Kentucky Derby in huge circles behind him. All the while, he’s shouting my name, but I’m in the kitchen on the other side of the house completely unaware that anything is going on outside.

Just as he opened the gate to lead Siete inside, Silk came charging down the hill and headed into our neighbor’s yard. There’s green grass the size of a football field over there. Siete thought, oh no, I’m not missing out on this party! She twisted sharply and yanked herself out of my husband’s grasp.

While both horses were gobbling up the grass that was indeed greener on the other side of the fence, he ran to the barn for a lead rope. Then, as they wandered back onto our property near the woods, he approached Siete again. She cheerfully lifted her head to greet him and he was able to attach the lead rope. He led her successfully into the enclosed pasture and locked the gate. When she realized that he had trapped her, she began bucking and racing around in protest. Meanwhile, her mother was totally absorbed in the long, succulent blades out back. My husband quietly crept up next to her and snapped the lead onto her halter.

Back in the house, I was obliviously eating my salad in the family room while I checked my email. The door flew open and my husband stormed inside. “Where have you been?” he shouted. Who knew?

It was entirely my fault that this escape occurred. When I opened the barn up for the horses in the morning, the front corral was so muddy that Silk didn’t want to cross it to go into the pasture. So, I led her out the back corral and through the other gate. I totally forgot to put the chain on the gate in that back corral, moving on to fill water buckets as part of my usual routine. Silk never misses a thing and has learned over the years to be very resourceful with her nose. Hmm, that chain just needs a little push. You may recall that I left the gate open after the farrier came a few weeks ago, and both horses took a walk down the driveway. And I confess that I forgot to lock Siete’s stall door last Saturday night. As my husband was going to bed, he saw something out the window in the pasture, cavorting around in the darkness. He realized it was Siete and had to go out to tuck her back into bed again. That’s three times in the past month that I’ve been absent-minded about keeping the horses safely confined.

Why is this happening? Could be that Silk isn’t the only one who is showing her age. Or is there another subconscious message that I’m sending to myself? We’ve all been locked up here too long and feel ready to explore new territories. Maybe Silk and Siete are trying to show me that it’s time to be free.

Birthday Princess

2011-04-29T11:13:00.005-04:00

I woke up at one in the morning and realized that I had forgotten yesterday was Silk’s birthday. I felt so bad I almost got out of bed and ran out to the barn in the darkness. I’ve got a lot of excuses, like I had an important meeting and I got caught driving in a scary thunderstorm, but who cares. What was important was that Silk entered her 23rd year in this world, and I was so wrapped up in other things that I missed it. That’s a big sign to me that I need to slow down and pay more attention to my horses.

I was already feeling guilty about Siete. She lets me know that she wants me to do more with her, and I just haven’t had time. When I come out to the pasture, she follows me around trying to play like a puppy. I’ve been battling the mud and digging out the drainage ditch so much this week that I haven’t focused on the girls at all.

So, today is gorgeous. I apologized to Silk this morning and she let me know that she won’t care that she’s getting her special fruit salad a day late. It’s been a birthday ritual, along with a carrot cake that I always make for her two-legged family and friends, for the past 13 years. When my daughter was young, some of these horse birthday parties got pretty elaborate and we all have fond memories of them. One time, one little boy who was invited had been “grounded” by his mom. When she heard about what we were planning to do, she made a special exception for the event. “How many times in his life is going to be invited to a horse’s birthday party?” she told me. I was so glad that he came because it turned out that he had never been on a farm in his life. He still remembers it ten years later.

I’m going to stop wasting any more time berating myself or reminiscing. Got to go out with the birthday girl now and celebrate! After all, she is my favorite horse in the whole world.

Happy Birthday Silk- you look so stylish in your leopard skin fly mask.

Let's Stop And Smell the Flowers

2011-04-24T09:46:00.001-04:00

The Right Place at the Right Time

2011-04-15T10:59:00.005-04:00

The girls are barefoot and frisky now that Spring has officially arrived. Our daffodils and forsythia are in full bloom, and the brown lawn magically turned emerald green overnight on Wednesday. All it took was a couple of warm days and some rain to flip on the growing switch.

A week ago, Silk gave me a scare. I came out at dinner time and she could hardly move her back legs. I had Johnny, our farrier, swing by in the morning to check if there were any abscesses, but he couldn’t find anything. He said she was moving more like she was 33 than 23. He suggested that it might be scratches. In the thirteen years that I’ve owned Silk, we’ve never had scratches or mud rot. On Sunday, when I was buying hay, I was lamenting to one of the farmers about Silk’s problem. “Don’t read too much into this, Victoria,” he said, “Sometimes, you’re just old.” True but I had to do something. I am a miserable, anxious wreck when SIlk isn't feeling good.

I recalled that JME posted a great explanation of what to do, so I consulted her. She recommended washing the legs with warm water, but not pulling off any of the the mud that was too crusted to fall off. Then, she said I should wrap both legs with Animalintex that I wet lightly with warm water and then use vet wrap to secure it for 12 hours. Then, wrap dry Animalintex around both legs for another 12 hours. I am happy to report that it worked perfectly. Silk tooling around just fine, back to her usual routine.

After Johnny came back this morning, trimmed the girls and removed their winter shoes, Silk was certainly not acting like she was a senior horse. We decided to leave them barefoot for now, and I’m hoping that I can pick up the rocks in the pasture often enough to let them stay that way for the summer. Since he’s been doing their feet for the last six months, I am so pleased by how much better they look and feel.

As I opened the pasture gate to let Johnny pull out in his truck, my husband called me from the driveway to help him lift an old sofa that we are taking to the dump. Once we got it into our car, I went back to the barn and let the horses back out into the pasture. I was standing next to our car, talking to my husband when Siete came charging out into the driveway, heading up towards the road. Freedom! Her mother pranced out right behind her. Luckily, some luscious grass tempted them to stop. My husband and I casually strolled over to them and each grabbed a horse by her halter. They weren’t happy that we were leading them back to captivity, but they didn’t resist.

The gods were smiling on us that my husband was home and that we both happened to be in the right place at the right time. Once I got the gate securely fastened, my heart started beating again. That was a close one.

Shedding Time

2011-04-06T10:04:00.006-04:00

Now that the air is full of promise and a hint of warmth, the horses have come alive again. Each morning, when I feed the girls and open the doors to their stalls, I hesitate before I swing Siete’s door open. In the past, I’ve tried to train her not to rush out like a bullet train into the pasture. What’s different this year is that some days, she is still full of exuberance, but other times, she just strolls casually past me to check out the new day. I’ve become more accepting and amused by the times that she revs up and dances wildly as the sun rises. I kind of feel that way myself on the mornings that she does it.

The horses are literally shedding away the winter blues. I’ve brushed huge amounts of fur off of them, joking that I could make a sweater with it. Silk has gained weight so I’m no longer worried about her. Siete and I are another story. We’re both on diets. I started us on a strict regime last Friday. My little horse is not happy about it, but I am personally feeling so much lighter and better already. For the past year, I’ve pretty much eaten whatever I want, and I’ve added some inches to my girth. In the winter, my bones began aching, culminating when I threw out my back during all the digging after the flooding. Recently, in a not so subtle way, the Universe started sending me messages everywhere I turned about how bad too much sugar and starch are for our bodies. I decided to cut them out of my diet for a couple of weeks and see if it made a difference. It was much harder than I thought.

On the first day, my neighbor was giving me a ride down to the garage where my car was being repaired. As I opened the door on the passenger side, I found a huge platter of warm-from-the oven brownies on my seat. She offered me one, and I explained that I was on a diet. Then, my neighbor asked me to hold the plate on my lap as she drove because she was afraid the brownies would spill all over the backseat if we put them there. Smelling that sweet chocolate for ten minutes was torture. Yet, it certainly strengthened my resolve. I thought it would be pathetic to not even be able to make it through one day without sugar and starch. So, I resisted temptation.

After five days, I am amazed at how much better I feel. No aching bones, no regrets, and a stronger resolve to keep my horse on her diet too. It’s difficult not to give in to Siete’s begging for more hay and food. She’s very cute and smart about pushing my buttons. I started reading Geneen Roth’s book, “Women, Food and God”. She is a tough teacher, and I’m really looking at how I use food to comfort myself when things get scary and hard. "The relationship with food is a direct path to coming home after a lifetime of being exiled.” What an interesting thought. It forces me to consider whether I want to give in to self-indulgence and all the health risks that result from automatically reaching for that fresh baked brownie.

Eternal Optimism

2011-03-22T07:46:00.003-04:00

Yesterday must have been a bad dream. On Sunday, I was out in the yard wearing a t-shirt, loving the budding of Spring. By 10 am, the very next day, the ground was covered with yet another depressingly white blanket, and all signs of green were gone. Miraculously, this morning, as I opened the back door to go out and feed the horses, there wasn’t a hint of winter. All the snow disappeared overnight, as if I had imagined it. Only I didn’t, and here are the pictures to prove it.

The horses didn’t enjoy the interruption of the rites of Spring either. Silk stayed in her stall all day, giving me that sad-eyed look, resigned to her fate. Her daughter was just plain grumpy. Siete would take a quick turn around the pasture every few hours with her tail flagged up high, snorting like a dragon. She’s as done with mud and snow as I am. Each time I watched her prancing and tossing her head, I thought that’s exactly how I feel.

On top of the bad weather, I threw out my back last week. It was definitely my body’s way of telling me to stop stressing and cleaning up after all the flooding. So, I’ve been forced to slow down and take a few days to contemplate my life. It appears to me that the state of my small piece of land is a mirror for how I am feeling. We’ve both survived a rough patch. The barn is splattered with mud and needs a thorough cleaning. So do I, and a diet and a new haircut are mandatory. The corral must be dug out and new footing needs to be brought in and properly graded. I’m personally digging into my business persona and refreshing my presentation and goals. After hibernating for all these months, I’m ready to emerge like Persephone and start to open up in new and exciting ways.

Today, it’s horsey spa day. The girls are going to get cleaned up with the shedding blade. I’ll put all the fur from their winter coats out behind the barn for the mama birds to use to build their nests. With warm water from the hose, those white socks on both horses’ feet will be revived for at least a few minutes before they run through the mud and blacken them again. The chorus of bad weather predictors are chanting that we’re getting more snow tomorrow night. Still, seeing the sun shining right now and listening to the birds chirp, I’m reassured that these last little hiccups of winter will soon be over.

Just like the little green sprouts didn’t freeze and wilt under that unexpected onslaught of snow yesterday, I’m not going to let the obstacles that fall in my path keep me from coming into flower. Years ago, a friend gave me a lovely old French ceramic tile that says “joie de vivre”. It sits on our mantelpiece and as I noticed it this morning, hobbling down the stairs with my sore back, I decided that it will be my new mantra.

In These Dark Days

2011-03-11T07:54:00.003-05:00

Once again, my days and nights are occupied battling against the elements of Nature. We had torrential rain on Sunday and Monday that flooded my hay storage and Siete’s stall, among other places in our house and garage. I am tired of blogging about the weather, but it is my constant nemesis these last three months. Last night and this morning, we’re getting a few more inches of rain and everything that flooded earlier in the week is flooding again.

The horses have been taking it very well. Siete spent one night sharing a stall with her mother before I was able to dump enough wood pellets into hers to soak up most of the water. It still bubbles up when she steps in the front, but there’s a dry area in the back where she can stand. After a night with mom, she opted for coming back to her own space. Last night, I listened to the wind and rain fiercely pounding and I feared for the worst this morning. Miraculously, she’s still got this dry spot where I can feed her and she can keep her feet from getting wet, but now I have to figure out how to get her out and into Silk’s stall again. The front corral is a lake and it is continuing to pour down. It continues to challenge my coping skills.

Each time I’ve come back into the house to take a break over the last few days, I’ve been presented with unexpected examples of a disturbing topic. First, my daughter came home from high school eager to talk to me about the problem of dating violence. She isn’t involved, thank heavens, in this horrible situation, but apparently some young women in her school are. They have had the courage to come forward to talk about it, and my daughter applauded their bravery. Then, I received an email from a friend with a news story about an 11-year old girl in Texas who was gang raped by 18 young men, including high school star athletes. Yesterday, another friend sent me a link to a presentation at one of the TEDx conferences by Chameli Ardagh called “The Fierce Face of the Feminine”. It’s a very compelling argument about how women must use their power to protect the children of the world. She points out that each day all over the world, there are more and more children whose lives are in danger and who are afraid to go to sleep at night.

As you know, I try to stay away from discussing politics and events of upheaval in the world. You also probably have noticed, through the years of owning Silk and Siete, I have come to appreciate the temperament and characteristics of my mares and other female creatures and learned a lot about the power of the feminine. And coincidentally, Wednesday was International Women's Day. So, I feel a strong need this week, as Mother Nature continues to rage around me, to urge women to take hold of their power and teach their daughters how to use it to make the world a safer place for our children. It might appear that as mere individuals, we are not able to stop the horrors of acts of violence and war. Yet every day, in how we relate to what goes on right here around us, there are opportunities for every woman to find her own power and take a stand against what we know in our hearts is not good for us or our children. From one drop of consciousness and action, there can be an enormous ripple.

Here’s the link to Chameli Ardagh’s talk: “The Fierce Face of the Feminine”

The White Blanket

2011-03-05T18:40:00.004-05:00

The white blanket on our pasture is getting lower to the ground, but there’s still a lot of ice and snow before you hit grass. At the worst, it was actually almost reaching the top rail of the fence but slowly it’s melting, inch by inch.

I was gone for about five hours yesterday, visiting my mom and going to the grocery store. My husband was supposed to throw a couple of flakes of hay to the horses, but he got busy and forgot. So, when I came home, Silk was standing at the gate of the corral watching anxiously for my arrival. I didn’t see Siete until I walked up to Silk with some hay. There was my little horse, standing at the far corner of the pasture, four hooves on top of the snow like an ornament on a birthday cake. I called her to come get some hay. She was still as a statue.

I realized, oh my god, she's stuck, so I headed inside to put on my boots. My husband beat me to it, feeling guilty that he forgot to feed the girls. He grabbed a halter and lead rope and ventured out to rescue Siete. Each step, he sunk into the snow almost to his knees. When he reached Siete, she started shaking her head wildly. He petted her and whispered something in her ear. Did I mention that Siete is his girlfriend? She let him put on the halter and lead rope without any fuss.

I stood at the gate, worried that she would drag him but she wasn’t going to budge. Finally, he calmly and gently coaxed her to follow him. She took two steps on top of the ice and then, whoosh! Siete’s feet dropped into a soft spot in the snow, and she sank about a foot. After that, she was afraid to lift her leg again. I don’t know how he convinced her to try, but step by step, my husband patiently dragged the horse at a snail's pace across the white blanket. At the edge, where the snow ended and the small “runway” was cleared except for ice and mud, Siete started leaning on him like she couldn’t bear to take another step.

I was afraid she was going to explode as soon as she hit terra firma, but she waited until he unclipped the lead rope and stepped out of the way. Then, she took off running into the barn. Safe in her stall, Siete bucked and bucked and bucked and bucked. Then, she whinnied very loud at us. It was quite clear what she had to say about the whole experience.

I offered her a carrot to calm her rattled nerves, and I served dinner early to the girls. This morning, when I opened the stall door, Siete poked her head out and tossed her nose in the direction of the white blanket. I reminded her that there was nothing but trouble out there for her. She’s a smart little horse, so she stood at the edge of the snow for a long time today without lifting a hoof in that direction.

Soon, little darling, soon. Spring is right around the corner.

What Do the Trees Say?

2011-02-19T08:58:00.004-05:00

The wind is howling through the trees again today. This winter, I have been very aware of the forest that hugs the back of our land. I often think that it rests an arm around us to keep us safe. The last six weeks have been all about the forces of nature here. We’ve had snow beyond our wildest dreams, followed by ice and power outages. At one point, the branches of the trees were coated with ice. When I walked out to the barn late one night to give the horses more hay, the forest was cracking and rattling and making so much noise. The trees were talking. The next morning, the wind was softer, and the conversation was more like a whisper.

The horses have had a really hard time, not being able to run at all or even walk very far into the pasture. The snow was almost as high as the fences. As everything melted, the ground that was cleared turned to ice. Silk slipped and almost fell a couple of times, so she’s sticking close to the barn. I am so thankful that both of the girls have remained in good spirits and are taking this all in stride. Every time I get cranky or frustrated, I go out and spend a few moments with them to restore my equilibrium.

It was so warm the last few days that I was finally able to take off the horses’ blankets. I was shocked. For the first time, Silk looked old to me. She seems frail, and we will have to work to get her back in shape when the snow is gone. I can’t believe that she will be 23 in April. Yesterday, as I brushed her, I was thinking back on all the cycles of all the seasons that we have been together. So much has happened in 13 years.

I am feeling that the lessons I have learned in my life keep circling back to make me go deeper and see more each time I face them. Watching the birds and the animals get through this difficult winter reminds me that no matter how great the challenges are, it’s our spirit and our will to live that helps us find the strength to move forward.

Looking around at all the political turmoil in our country and around the world, I am witnessing cycles of change that are much larger and have a greater impact than what’s happening in my small universe. Some are uplifting and some are frightening, but all are beyond my control. Yet, if we can only stay true to our own compass, treating everyone around us with kindness and doing what we can, we will collectively improve this tired old earth. I am constantly aware of all the bright, good people that come in and out of my life each day, making a difference even when things get really tough.

Listening to the wind this morning, resilience is the song that the trees are singing to me.

Thanks for the Award!

2011-01-25T11:30:00.004-05:00

Thank you to Calm, Forward, Straight and to Juliette at Honeysuckle Faire for giving me the Stylish Blogger Award. In my frayed Gortex parka and polartec pants with the holes on the seams, I’m not exactly a Fashion Queen these days. I’m going to use the below zero temperatures and the snow that is falling yet again as an excuse for my tattered but waterproof outfit.

I know that this award has been making its way around the blogosphere, so I’m not going to attempt to send it on to anyone. I really enjoy CFS and Juliette’s blogs so much, and if you don’t already visit them, I encourage you to take a look. I was able to get to know both of them a little better from their responses to this award, and I think it’s a great distraction from what’s going on outside my back door right now. So with no further ado, here are 7 things you might not already know about me:

1. I really enjoyed being stylish when I lived in New York and Los Angeles. I was skinny, wore expensive black clothes and my hair was short, then long, then short, then whatever was considered hip at that moment. When I moved to San Diego and became a cowgirl, my godmother came to visit. She said, “Victoria, you were the most sophisticated woman I knew. What happened to you?” No regrets, not one.

2. I love to cook and bake. I enjoy reading a recipe and then taking artistic license with it. My friends and family aren’t complaining. It is especially fun to prepare food for large groups of hungry people. Recently, I’ve been trying some of the Pioneer Woman’s recipes and really liking them, even the ones with Mountain Dew as an ingredient. I’m adventuresome, although I usually try to stick with healthy, whole foods when I’m in the kitchen.

3. I’ve recently discovered the videos on the TED Conference website. “Ideas worth spreading”. Very thought provoking speakers, interesting music and some mental stimulation on these cold nights in front of the fire. It sure beats what’s on TV.

4. My other distraction as I sit cozy in my armchair with the logs blazing is to plan my garden. I look at those deep white blankets covering my flower beds and imagine all that compost that we spread before it froze giving nourishment to the soil and plants that are buried under it. Spring will be even more delightful than usual this year. I love the White Flower Farms website for dreaming about what I’m going to plant.

5. I live in a house filled with music. My husband and stepson are drummers. My daughter plays the guitar and sings. Recently, I’ve noticed that all my favorite musicians are growing older and grayer. The reality of it has been creeping up over the last few years. All those great guys, like Van Morrison, Lyle Lovett, Mark Knopfler, are still recording but soon there will come a day when they’ll decide that they’re done. I just watched a movie called “It Might Get Loud” which has the elegant, white-haired Jimmy Page in it. Like good wine, they just get better as they age and mellow, so I’m going to take time to appreciate them now while they’re still around. Luckily, I have my daughter and stepson to keep me clued into who’s young and talented,

6. I’m paying too much attention to my cat. He’s the only animal left in the house this winter, and there’s a good reason that his name is Velcro. Either he’s draped around my neck like an orange fur scarf or spread across my legs like a fuzzy lap-warmer. I am the center of his world, which is flattering but also comes with too much loud meowing.

7. I’m expending a lot of energy being hopeful these days. There’s too much gloom and fear and arguing going on in the world. Hope needs to be stirred up and cultivated on a daily basis in order to drown out all the negativity that bombards us now that we have all this information available to us constantly at our fingertips. If you have something good to say, now is the time to speak up!

I’m going to throw another log on the fire and continue to hibernate. Silk and Siete are standing in the corral, with snow all over their noses. I tried to get a picture of them, but the battery on the camera needs to be charged. It’s been snowing one inch per hour, and this isn’t even the “big” storm. We’ll be getting ready for that one to hit us tomorrow night. I think I’ll start looking for some new recipes to try.

World of White

2011-01-14T09:32:00.004-05:00

I grew up on the outskirts of Chicago, so I know about snow. I still have a snapshot of my dad, who was 6’1”, standing on our patio in a snow tunnel that is a foot taller than his head. My parents hated snow and eventually moved to Florida, where they sat by the pool each winter and teased their friends and relatives who were still stuck in the Midwest. I didn’t get it. I loved the snow, especially building snowmen and igloos. sledding and skating on an ice rink that we made in our backyard. One of the things that I missed when I lived in California was “real winter”.

So, here I am now, dragging hay through snow tunnels above my waist, dealing with the biggest snowfall that our town has had in 20 years. I’m still vividly remembering how it felt on Wednesday morning as I crawled out to the barn to reach the horses in the heart of the storm. I was smart enough to bring their hay and breakfast into the house the night before so I wouldn’t have to get to the garage and tack room before I beat my way towards the barn. I was wearing knee high rubber boots, waterproof pants and a Gortex parka, but I was sinking into drifts that were almost to my shoulders. My method was to shovel two or three feet to make a path, turn back and move the bucket full of hay, wipe the fog and snow off my glasses and then shovel a little more. It was very slow going. There was a moment where I couldn’t see the barn or the house. I felt like Nanook of the North.

To make matters worse, I was still worrying about something that I saw the night before. As I was putting the horses to bed, I noticed that in the snow in the corral, one of them had peed and it was a kind of carrot orange color. It freaked me out, so I went back into the house and leaped on the Internet to see if anyone had anything to say about the this weird colored urine. I was thinking urinary tract infection. There were a few articles about it, mentioning dehydration as a possible explanation and claiming there was no cause for alarm. Both horses were eating and pooping and drinking normally. Just to be sure, I had checked on them around 10 pm as the storm was just starting the night before. They were both fine.

Now, as I approached the barn, Silk stuck her head out but I didn’t see Siete. My little horse always pokes her head over the stall door the minute that I come out of the house each morning. I’d been shoveling and inching my way to the barn for over an hour, and there was no sign of her. It made me panic. Frantically pushing in the blinding snow, my mind went to the worst. If she was down or had colicked, how would I get help? My fear enabled me to reach the corral gate with a surge of energy like a mother animal trying to protect her young. As I shoved against the gate to squeeze through it, the little stinker ambled across her stall to the door, giving me a look that said, “What took you so long?” Tossing the hay into the barn, I felt the rush of victory while the path that I had just carved was disappearing in the insane onslaught of white from the sky.

I barely made it back to the house. Once it stopped snowing, my husband, my daughter and I spent at least eight hours digging. We had to pull 30 inches of snow off the roof of the barn because we were worried it would collapse. Silk ran into the corral when I got the doors open,and the snow was covering her up over her back. She stood still, not knowing what to do. “Don’t expect me to come and rescue you!” I told her. Eventually, she got up the nerve to push her way out and hid herself back in the barn. After two days, we still haven’t been able to dig open the gates to the pasture, and the snow out there has drifted about four feet deep. I’m trying to figure out how to exercise the horses as they grow more antsy and pent-up.

All the local stores are sold out of snowblowers. Our tractor, which has a plow is still broken. My husband has contacted his buddy, an old retired mechanic known around here as “Tractor Man”, who collects and repairs lawn equipment. He has an old Craftsman with treads that he refers to as “the beast”. He’s almost got it running, so I hope that soon we’ll be able to blast a small runway from the corral into the pasture. I have to admit that I’m beginning to understand how my parents felt after they lived through 36 winters with snow like this.

All of you in parts of the country where the temperatures are above 60 degrees can go ahead and gloat now.

Good Horse

2011-01-06T08:10:00.001-05:00

I’ve been looking back over 2010 and reviewing how the year went with my horses. Certainly, life dealt me a full hand, and we didn’t progress as far as I had hoped. Yet, as we face this winter’s challenges, I feel a definitely stronger bond and a shift in my horses’ attitudes. So, despite the long list of “I wish I had’s” from last year, I am also proud of what we were able to accomplish.

Both horses are completely comfortable to be in their stalls with me, and I know that all the time we spent sharing territory in the pasture contributes to the relaxed atmosphere in the barn. They like to be together in the same stall, and when I join them, it used to be a bit claustrophobic. This winter, I think that they welcome me to come in with them. Everybody respects each other’s space but at the same time, being close together is calming and has the same warm connection that I got when they joined me next to my chair as I read in the pasture last summer.

Siete wants to do things with me. We are starting to practice Carolyn Resnick’s Uberstreichen Exercises, which she developed to help create flexion and responsiveness from the horse. They are the perfect activity for these days when it’s not possible to ride. Carolyn has been a huge influence on my life with my horses, as you know, and her wisdom and teaching continually strikes the right chord for us and seems to come at just the moment when we need it.

One important lesson that she has taught me is to appreciate and allow for the pause. I understand that if I ask and Siete doesn’t respond, I must take a little break. It gives her time to think about what I wanted. Usually, I just walk away and then come back. If I ask again and she doesn’t give me the response that I am looking for, I may have to leave and come back a few times. It’s almost like I can see the wheels turning in Siete’s head as she tries to understand what I’m asking her to do. There’s no pressure, no recriminations. I just give her the gift of time to think about my request. She reminds me of my daughter learning an algebra problem. Sometimes, it takes a few tries and some more explanation before it sinks in. Siete wants to please, and I’m always very enthusiastic when she responds to my request. She is like a kid, getting all jazzed up and happy when she gets it right.

I have also started to only use one word to let the horses know that I’m pleased with them. I noticed that when I tell them that they are “good”, they both seem to respond positively to it. Their ears come forward and they visibly brighten if I say “Good horse!” So, that’s our code to indicate that I’m happy, and I only use it for that purpose. Silk, especially, appears to soften and relax whenever I announce that she’s “good”. I don’t know why, but it works.

Thinking back over the time I’ve spent learning from Carolyn this year, I am reminded of a wonderful phrase that I heard Clarissa Pinkola Estes say: “Listen to me now. Believe me later.”

Happy New Year!

2010-12-31T18:16:00.004-05:00

Snowy Night

Last night, an owl
in the blue dark
tossed
an indeterminate number

of carefully shaped sounds into
the world, in which,
a quarter of a mile away, I happened
to be standing.

I couldn’t tell
which one it was –
the barred or the great-horned
ship of the air –

it was that distant. But, anyway,
aren’t there moments
that are better than knowing something,
and sweeter? Snow was falling,

so much like stars
filling the dark trees
that one could easily imagine
its reason for being was nothing more

than prettiness. I suppose
if this were someone else’s story
they would have insisted on knowing
whatever is knowable – would have hurried

over the fields
to name it – the owl, I mean.
But it’s mine, this poem of the night,
and I just stood there, listening and holding out

my hands to the soft glitter
falling through the air. I love this world,
but not for its answers.
And I wish good luck to the owl,

whatever its name –
and I wish great welcome to the snow,
whatever its severe and comfortless
and beautiful meaning.

~ Mary Oliver ~

Holiday Wishes

2010-12-28T08:16:00.002-05:00

I hope you all are having a wonderful week of holiday fun! We spent a lovely day with my mom on Saturday, and friends came by our house in the evening to sit in front of a roaring fire and laugh and talk. Then, Mother Nature dropped a big present on us. The snow from the blizzard was well over my knees when I struggled out to the barn yesterday morning. I could hardly see where I was going with the wind blowing stinging white pins in my face. The horses were very happy to see me, and it took all my determination to leave the dry barn and furry warmth of Silk’s greeting to crawl back up to the house.

We spent about five hours shoveling once the snow stopped falling. Our tractor is broken, so we don’t have a plow this winter. Fortunately, one of the neighbors took mercy on us and lent his monster snow-blower once he had finished clearing his place out. That baby is a real tank, relentless and indestructible. We cleared all the paths to the barn and back to the poop bins, the front corral and a small landing pad in the pasture. Oh yeah, and the driveway and the walks around our house too, but as usual, my main focus was on the area around the barn. My neighbor grew up in a family that raised horses, so he had great sympathy for my concerns. I pointed out to him that it’s days like this that make me really glad I have horses, and he laughed so hard that he had to sit down on the back of his pickup truck.

Siete is a snow bunny, but her mama will always be a California princess. Silk is very disdainful of the white stuff and only tentatively ventured out to the small clearing in the pasture for a few minutes. Siete bounds around and buries her head in the snow joyfully. If a horse could laugh, she would be. I started to play with her, running back and forth and clapping my hands and she bounced in the drifts following me. I got tired of this game faster than she did. Finally, I had to lure her back to the barn with some treats because I was afraid her feet were getting too cold. First thing this morning, she was out there again, making huge looping patterns, running across the white blanket of the pasture.

From our winter wonderland, we ‘re sending you good wishes for a happy week!

A Lesson of Love

2010-12-21T07:22:00.003-05:00

I waited a little longer this year than I usually do to put the winter shoes with borium cleats on the horses. I confess I wasn’t looking forward to it. Last time, Siete had been very antsy, and it felt like it took forever for my old farrier to wield the borium onto the shoes and fit them. So, the other day, I bundled up with long underwear and an extra pair of wool socks and some cut up bits of carrots to keep the horses happy and prepared myself for a long ordeal in the frigid pasture.

Right on time, not just one, but two big pickup trucks with trailers full of the farrier’s equipment pulled through our gate. Four guys got out, and my new farrier sort of sheepishly explained that even though he was only in his 30’s and in really good shape, he had a heart attack a month ago. His doctor said it was really unusual, caused by a random blood clot, and this was the first week he was back at work. He introduced me to his dad, and two of his best friends who were also farriers that were there to help him.

His dad was an old cowboy, and kept joking about how his son was teaching him new tricks. He was learning to be a farrier so he could go out with Johnny and keep an eye on him. He told me with great detail exactly what had happened when his son had the heart attack. All the while, he was prepping Siete for her trim. My farrier was in his truck getting the shoes ready, and his friend stepped up to work on Siete’s feet. I was amazed that my little horse appeared to be completely calm and was enjoying all the attention that these new guys were bestowing on her. They knew the good spots to scratch. and took a moment to get to know her before they grabbed her feet. Almost before I knew it, they were done and I was bringing out Silk. She is always good as gold when anyone works on her feet, but they were also very aware of her age and her arthritis. They had a special low stand for older horses that meant they didn’t have to lift her leg and hoof so high. Again, we were finished in less than half the time it took with my old farrier.

As we all stood around, working and watching in the bitter cold, I found myself getting really emotional about the warm relationships between these men. Johnny’s dad was so proud of him and obviously worried about his boy. The affection and concern and respect that these four men had for each other was palpable. When I met Johnny a couple of months ago, I immediately felt he was an honest man who obviously cared deeply about horses. Now, I said a little prayer that this good guy would stay healthy and live to help his kids the way his own dad was. As they were leaving, he thanked me for letting him bring so many people to help him. He said that some of his clients didn’t like it. I can’t imagine why. It gave me an unexpected lesson about love.

With the holidays approaching, I’ve become particularly aware this year of how many of my friends seem obsessed with the stuff they are buying. It feels like there’s more of a frenzy of shopping than usual. Who would have thought that a visit from my farrier would have reminded me of the strength of the love of family and friends? Yet, after they left, the memory of Johnny’s dad and his friends being so protective and caring stays with me and reminds me of the real meaning of all this celebrating.

Mud and Growing Up

2010-12-13T10:18:00.005-05:00

Yesterday, my husband told me that I needed to improve my outlook because all I was doing was sending out bad energy. Easy for him to say, sitting in the sunshine in California with the rest of our family enjoying themselves on a lazy Sunday afternoon. I was engaged in a battle of the elements here on the East Coast. We were getting two inches of rain, which was flooding the corral and our basement. Tonight, it’s supposed to be followed by temperatures in the 20’s and lots and lots of ice. The horses don’t have their borium shoes yet, and the farrier can’t come for another four days.

Once again, I was feeling sorry for myself that we were having bad weather with all its drama when my capable, strong, hard-working partner was out of town. It seems to almost always happen this way. Over and over, every couple of hours all day, I bundled up and shoveled and drained the ditch and cleared the water out of the basement with some small assistance from my very grumpy fifteen year old daughter. We also put up the Christmas decorations and hung the ornaments on the tree by ourselves, missing my mom, our dog and our kitty. It took all my effort to keep going, dragging along a child who wished non-stop that we were with Daddy and everyone we love in that warm, sunny place where we used to live.

I could hear the rain all night long, waking up at 4 am with all of my worries to keep me company. I got up expecting the worst: a flooded barn, more water in the basement. Instead, my labor had paid off, and it was dry downstairs. The corral drained well, and the frozen moon craters were soft enough that I can smooth things down before the freeze tonight. Siete didn’t want me to pick out her hooves, but instead of forcing the issue, I left her alone to eat her hay. A few minutes later, I came in through the back door of her stall, and she very willingly let me take her hoof and clean it. At that moment, I had this interesting realization.

All of this challenging physical work helps me and my daughter hold onto an important part of who we are. I’ve never been very coordinated or strong, so small victories like I was experiencing this morning mean a great deal to me. It reminds me that I don’t need someone to help me make it be okay here. It keeps me from getting too attached and dependent on my husband, but at the same time, it helps me appreciate the things that he does for me when he is around. It teaches my daughter that she can make it through difficult situations on her own. Most important, as the rain stopped, so did my bad energy.

I listened to a conversation that poet David Whyte had with the founder of “Sounds True”, Tami Simon, on the Internet this morning. He was talking about creativity and originality. He said, “Start close in. Don’t take the second step or the third. Start with the first one, close in, the step that you don’t want to take. “ He believes that it is the only way to find the courage to “get into the fierce center of the conversation”. He encourages us to open up to vulnerability. “Once you actually turn toward vulnerability, not as a weakness but as a faculty for understanding what’s about to happen, you can transform your life in a way which is quite extraordinary.” I feel like I faced the deluge this weekend, in full awareness of my weaknesses, and it didn’t drag me under. Now, if I can extend that acceptance of my vulnerability to other areas of my life and do the best I can as the situation unfolds, I might actually be able to look back and learn from it. I guess I'm not done growing up yet.

My BK

2010-12-03T09:59:00.003-05:00

When we moved into our house in Vista, California, in 1999, the lady who was selling it left two cats behind. One was black, and one was grey. We already had our orange and white cat named Velcro and our dog. Pepper, so we really didn’t want two more cats. I told this woman, “You can’t just leave them. It’s not like they’re plants. “ But she did. I was able to find someone who would give them a new home, but first I had to catch them. That wasn’t so easy since they lived wild in the backyard, existing on whatever they could catch. As the moving van was being unloaded, I put down some bowls of food to see if I could lure them. I had two cat carriers waiting in the wings.

My husband left on a business trip the day after we moved in, and I was a little nervous to be in this new house on the edge of the woods. That night, around 2 am, I woke up feeling like someone was staring at me. There were two small windows on either side of our bed. I sat up and looked over my shoulder. In the window, sitting on the fence post was the black cat, just watching over me. The next morning, I got up and found the grey cat stretched across the front door mat preventing anyone from coming in the house. I called my husband and told him that the cats were totems and they were staying. We named the black one BK, as in Black Kitty, and the grey one was known as Grey Man.

The house had laundry room and attached office next to the garage, so the two cats lived in there, going outdoors when they chose. I fed them and took care of them, but they still enjoyed hunting in the woods. My husband, who doesn’t really like cats, developed a great affection for the little old curmudgeon, Grey Man. The cat drank out of his cereal bowl each morning and slept curled up next to his computer. When he got too old to hunt, his buddy, BK, would bring him presents of mice and other treats. Sadly, the coyotes caught Grey Man one night. The next night, I climbed up on our roof and coaxed BK to come in the house. He’s been with us ever since.

It was a big battle with Velcro, who always considers himself to be the King. But we learned that when you put two cats in a van with a dog and four people and drive them three thousand miles across the country, they will bond. So, Velcro has been like BK’s evil little brother for many years. BK comforted my mom as her dementia came on, sitting on her lap or sleeping with her in bed. This cat had such a big motor that when he purred, you could hear it all over the house, and he purred a lot. He was such a happy, forgiving, generous guy. He always perched just above my head while I slept, whether it was on the couch for a nap or in my bed above me in the pillows, guarding me. About two years ago, BK developed thyroid disease. As he grew older, he got thinner and lighter. There were more and more trips to the vet. This summer, I was sure he was ready to go, but he rallied again and again. I learned the true meaning of a cat having nine lives.

Four days ago, he suddenly stopped eating. I couldn’t tempt him with baby food or tuna soup, and the vet told me not to give him his medication anymore. For months, I had been asking BK to let me know when it was time. Remarkably, he did. He became very cuddly, spending literally hours sleeping on one lap after another for three days. Yesterday, when I woke up, he wasn’t sitting next to my bed as usual waiting for me to feed him breakfast. I found him curled up in his little cat bed, but he could hardly walk. I held him for over an hour waiting for the animal hospital to open and then, he snuggled in the armchair while I called the vet. Velcro climbed up and settled in next to him. They stayed together that way until my daughter came home from school. We all said our goodbyes, and I held him wrapped in a blanket like a baby, as my husband drove us to the vet. We love the vets at this animal hospital. Everyone in their office cried and hugged us like we were family. They knew BK well, and he passed away peacefully with grace.

We buried BK last night on the hill above the barn next to our grove of cedar trees. I always think of it as the sacred part of our yard. The horses stood with their heads peering out of the stalls. They knew what was going on. I could feel it. The night was clear, and there were a million stars. Our house is very empty. One of my guardian angels is gone but I know that his spirit is watching over me.

A Different Kind of Thanksgiving

2010-11-24T20:54:00.003-05:00

There are times when I am in Silk’s stall that I feel some sort of mysterious vibes. As if my horse can read my thoughts, I find answers or insights to things that have been bothering me.

I was brushing Silk tonight and trying to fan the flames of hope. I confess that I was feeling pretty low. It’s been a challenging week, and tomorrow we’re going up to the nursing home to have Thanksgiving dinner there with my mom. Thanksgiving is my favorite holiday. I love to cook all the recipes that have been passed along to me from family and friends. I get very sentimental when I look back at all the good memories. This year, we considered making a second turkey dinner at home the day after, but it felt like that would only remind us more that we missed my mom. In the spirit of living with what is, we’re going to try to make this the most fun Thanksgiving that the nursing home has ever had.

I know that we’re not the only ones who have had our share of difficulties and disappointments this year. There are friends of mine who have lost loved ones or are financially flailing and are really struggling with the holidays. I look for little sparks of hope wherever I can find them.

While I was rubbing Silk’s soft, thick coat, a thought popped into my head, almost like she was having a conversation with me. I suddenly recalled that she had been beaten and abused before I bought her. People really hurt her and treated her like a machine. She spent the first ten years of her life in a box stall, never getting turned out in a pasture. Occasionally, she was allowed to kick up her heels in a round pen, but no one ever let her be anything but a showpiece. Yet, she managed to never lose her spirit, and life got better for her. For the last twelve years, Silk has been loved and pampered and free to run and eat grass and the best hay I can buy for her. Standing next to her in the darkness, I felt like she was reminding me that there are going to be rocky patches, and we just have to get through them. And fortunately, we have each other.

Hold on to what is good,
Even if it's a handful of earth.
Hold on to what you believe,
Even if it's a tree that stands by itself.
Hold on to what you must do,
Even if it's a long way from here.
Hold on to your life,
Even if it's easier to let go.
Hold on to my hand,
Even if someday I'll be gone away from you.

A Pueblo Indian Prayer

Unblocked

2010-11-16T10:52:00.005-05:00

I’ve been stuck. For the last month, I’ve been forcing myself to work on this book that I’ve been forever writing, and I have just felt so bogged down in it. The little evil critic that lives in my head has been very busy. Each page that I’ve managed to type is pure torture. So, for the last week, I just stopped trying to slog ahead. In fact, I seriously considered giving up on it. I was sure that I would never have another good idea in my life.

It was also my birthday last Tuesday, and everywhere I turned there were these unsettling reminders that I was getting old. Even my body, which is normally very resilient, felt so tired and stiff. I had a lovely, rather uneventful birthday. One of the best things was that a dear friend made me a piece of wearable art that she has strung on a braided cord. Just wearing this talisman of her love and friendship has made me feel better. I also went into New York City on Saturday to have lunch with another close friend and to be interviewed for the New York Women In Film and Television Archives about the early days of the organization and about my career. It forced me to look back over what I’ve done and to formulate some words of wisdom for young women who are trying to follow a trail in that tough business. Mostly, it gave me some much-needed perspective on where I am now.

I’m knee deep in old, crunchy leaves, which makes for a perfect metaphor. I don’t know if anyone else feels this way, but this autumn. there seems to be at least double the number of fallen leaves as ever before. We are drowning in huge piles of brown, dead foliage. I’ve been avoiding the odious job of gathering them up and dragging them to the way back to the compost pile. We made two big heaps in the pasture, which are particularly heavy because there’s some old hay in them. Every day, I announce that I am going to get rid of those leaves no matter what. And no matter what, I don’t.

Siete has been like a little kid, running through the piles and throwing the leaves up in the air. She’s managed to completely dishevel all of the work that we had done. My husband pointed out to me that it’s going to rain heavily tonight, so I went out there this morning on a mission. As soon as I started to rake the leaves on to a tarp, my little horse rushed over and stood in the center of them. “My leaves!” she announced. I was sorry to have to take away her fun, but bundling them up when they are a soggy, weighted down mess is not easy.

In my head, I kept hearing the lyrics to this Van Morrison song, appropriately called “When the Leaves Come Falling Down”. “Follow me down, follow me down, to the space before the twilight and the dawn”. Before the twilight, is the magic hour, where the light is golden and full of promise. And recently, when I wake up at 5 am, I’ve been noticing how incredibly dark the sky is in the moments right before the sun comes up.

As I raked, I realized that I have been wandering around for the last month with the fallen leaves completely obscuring my path. I started thinking about how that dark time before dawn can be either scary or comforting. It can bring up all my fears, or it can soothe and offer me rest and renewal. Moving the leaves somehow released me, and I had the urge to run back into the house to the computer to start writing again. There’s a faint path, not well traveled, but I’m going to stumble along it and see where it goes.

Off to See the Wizard

2010-11-02T08:25:00.002-04:00

It was an unexpected delight to see everyone dressed in costume when I visited my mom at the nursing home last Thursday. These folks really take Halloween seriously, planning their costumes and the party from year to year. The nurses and doctors and almost all the people working there, including the therapy dog, were very imaginative and enthusiastic about it. I just missed a parade of children from a local pre-school who came to trick or treat. The residents were given candy to hand out, and also got to choose their own costumes from an impressive and huge selection. My mother was dressed as a Wizard when I walked in and having the time of her life. I haven’t seen her that happy in years. What a change from a couple of months ago, and what a relief for me to know that she’s enjoying her new life.

Silk is also doing better. It’s been just below freezing the last couple of nights, but I decided to hold off from blanketing the girls. Even though I dragged the rugs out to the barn, I changed my mind at the last minute. They are growing thick winter coats and there wasn’t any wind, so I opted to wait until it gets colder. This morning, they both seemed fine, although I wasn’t smart enough to blanket myself with a heavier coat and some gloves and it was pretty chilly. The water buckets iced up yesterday, so I replaced them with the heated ones. Both horses drank a lot last night, since they love their “tea”.

I was reflecting on how fast the time has gone as I gave Silk and Siete some extra hay to get their furnaces going. It seems like I was just doing this last winter, and here I am back at it again. We lit our first fire in the fireplace on Sunday night, which made me really miss not having my mother at home with us. She loves sitting in front of the fire. Old rituals will be replaced this year with new ones, as the holidays approach. I’ve been trying hard not to miss what has passed, whether it’s warm summer days in the garden or little things that my mom and I liked to do together around here that we can't do anymore. Each time I do them by myself, I try to find a way to honor her without sadness. The Halloween party at the nursing home helped remind me that they also have their traditions up there, which are fun and joyful. It will be up to our family to expand ourselves to join in and create new rituals that we can share together this year.

In the early darkness this morning, Silk was so soft, and rubbing my cold hands on her furry neck, I vowed to accept whatever happens next with a spirit of openness and thanks. Things are different around here, but that doesn’t mean that they aren’t getting better.

Something's Not Right

2010-10-24T07:53:00.004-04:00

There’s something bothering Silk, but I can’t quite figure out what it is. Earlier in the week, I sensed that she was not a happy girl. There was some tail swishing at night when I came into her stall to say goodnight. She’s been edgy, looking into the woods as if she sees the same imaginary people that my mom used to see back there when she was having her delusions last year. I found myself tensing up whenever I was around my sweet horse, worrying that she might do something weird.

On Wednesday, I had to go to New York City for a meeting, and it concerned me to be leaving Silk all day. She wasn’t waiting at the gate for me the way she usually is when I pulled into the driveway I went immediately to the barn, and when she saw me, she turned her back to me in her stall and stood in the far corner. My first panicked thought was colic. Then, I wondered if she’d been bit by a Lyme tick. She ate her dinner and was drinking water and pooping, so I reassured myself that it probably wasn’t her stomach that was bothering her.

When I started to pick out her feet, she glued them to the ground and refused to lift them. Silk never does that. In fact, one of the things that I marvel at is that she will normally let me do anything I want to her without complaining or balking. It’s such a change from when I first got her that it always reminds me of how much she trusts me. So when she refused to lift her back right hoof, I began to think “abscess”. Frankly, I was hoping that’s all it was.

She finally let me clean all her hooves and soak and poultice both her back feet. She didn’t really want to balance on either when I lifted the opposite leg, so I decided to treat both to be safe. Then, the battle of the boots began. Silk lets me put the Soft Ride boots on her hooves with the Animalintex pad in them. As soon as I walk away, she starts trying to pull them off. We’ve struggled with this annoying game for three days. I gave her a 500 pound dose of Banamine morning and night for two days. Her mood began to improve, but forget about wearing those boots! I finally duct taped the poultice pad on her back right foot since it appears that’s the one that is most sore.

What’s hard to determine is whether there’s actually an abscess or if she’s just bruised her sole or maybe even feels stiff in her hock. I wish she could talk. She’s not like Siete, who lets me know loud and clear what’s bothering her. Silk is very stoic and from past experience, I know she’ll hold it in until she keels over. And I certainly don’t want that again. Several years ago, we had a mystery illness where she just fell down on me one horrible morning and couldn’t get up. After rushing to the equine hospital, all they could come up with was perhaps an electrolyte imbalance. Thank god, it’s never happened again. Even after all this time, I am relieved each morning when I approach the barn and see Silk stick her head over the Dutch door to greet me.

This morning, she seems better. Her body language is softer and more like it usually is. We’ll leave the boots and poultice off today and see how it goes. It’s always something, isn’t it?

In the Moment

2010-10-17T10:25:00.005-04:00

I’m recovering from a really intense experience that I had on Thursday night. For the second year, I am producing the video that the Leukemia-Lymphoma Society uses to help fundraise for their “Light the Night” Walk. One of the walks takes place in Manhattan, starting at the South Street Seaport and following a route across the Brooklyn Bridge and back. Last year, it rained like crazy, and I got soaked to the bone. Despite the weather, a couple thousand people turned out.

This week, I started watching the weather forecast early, and it didn’t look good. I warned my video crew that they were predicting a Nor’ Easter so they should be ready for big rain. The weather channels were calling for one to two inches, and I really had to batten down the hatches at home and in the barn since we would be gone. Fortunately, I was able to get one of my neighbors who is an experienced horsewoman to come feed the horses for me and secure them safely in their stalls. My daughter was spending the night with some other good friends, so I didn’t have to worry about her. Knowing that everyone was okay on the home front gave me the ability to really focus on my job at the Walk.

True to the predictions, it began to rain around 5 pm. The crowd was even bigger than last year, probably around four thousand people. What was so remarkable was that no one was complaining, even though the rain was coming down in a solid sheet. I think that initially my cameramen thought that I had been exaggerating with all my dire warnings, but they soon realized that this was like shooting in a monsoon. I had five layers of clothing on, and they were all wet. During the entire time, I kept myself totally in the moment, never thinking about how good it would be to get home to my warm bed or how long the walk back from the Bridge to the Seaport would be or how tired my feet were.

Standing on the Brooklyn Bridge watching a solid mass of drenched people with the LED lighted balloons they carried valiantly bobbing in the sky against the downpour, it was truly a memorablet scene -- a visual metaphor for the bravery of facing a deadly disease. I just kept marveling at all these people, many of them diagnosed with Leukemia or other blood cancers, walking along with such great spirit and love, regardless of how difficult it was.

It was only looking back on it this weekend, as I took some time to rest, that I realized how much my ability to focus had grown in a year. Recently, I’ve been re-reading Mark Rashid’s wonderful book, “Horsemanship Through Life”, and a phrase he uses came into my head. He talks about how as a young boy, he was riding on the trail with his mentor, “the old man”, and his mind was wandering. Suddenly, his horse spooked and did some crazy moves, and Rashid fell off. The old man said, “You shouldn’t have stopped riding… She didn’t buck you off. You fell off ‘cuz you quit riding… You were sitting. You quit riding over an hour ago.” Then, Rashid explains how many of us only keep our intent and awareness for short periods of time when we ride, letting the horse do all the work as we become passengers who are thinking about what we are making for supper or something that happened at work or being distracted by a million small things. Then, he points out that the only way to really hone the skills of attentiveness and communication with your horse is to live your whole life with that kind of intent and awareness in everything that you do.

Now, I know that I’ve been really working hard on being in the moment when I’m with my horses. I also have felt that my ability to stay aware and focused has increased in my daily activities away from the barn. It wasn’t until Thursday night that I really appreciated how much better it can make a painful situation. Last year, standing on the Bridge, my mind was worrying about how my mom and the horses were doing at home and distracted by how long the walk back to the car would be and a flood of other concerns that I couldn’t do anything about right then and there anyway. This year, I had a more meaningful and rewarding experience because I “never quit riding”.

Time for a Change

2010-10-08T13:36:00.004-04:00

We had our first date with our new farrier, and it was great. For five years, the same man has been taking care of Silk and Siete's feet, but he’s followed his dream out West and bought a small ranch. I was fortunate to find a young man who has recently gone into business after working for many years with one of the most respected farriers around here. All signs point to it being a good match. I consider my farrier to be one of my most important relationships, so you have no idea how relieved I am that we’ve all hit it off to a good start.

First of all, this guy loves horses and shows it. He was really gentle and able to help Siete keep her balance better than our old farrier. She is going through another one of those stages where she’s getting these little abscesses, probably due to the abrupt change in the weather. It’s been so dry all summer, and suddenly, we were deluged by rain last week. The corral is still mushy, and this seems to be the “perfect storm” for abscesses. If anyone has any suggestions about ways to pump up Siete’s immune system, I’d love to hear them. We’ve gone through two years without any of these problems, but this is the time of year where she seems to be most prone to this problem. I’m slathering Venice turpentine on her feet to harden them and she gets Triple Crown 12% Supplement instead of grain. She’s also on a diet, after a summer of freedom in the pasture and all this beautiful second cut hay we’ve been getting. I call her a little “Hoover” since she vacuums up every bit of both her own and her mother’s hay if I don’t stop her.

I also just joined a group on LinkedIn called “Horses and Leadership” which has some interesting discussions going. It led me to think about leadership styles in business and in horse training. Sad to say, we are taught by most trainers to be rigid with our horses. “If you let her get away with that, you’ll spoil her.” My first trainer used to yell at me. What I realize now is that if my horse is just learning the rules, she isn’t really paying attention to me. Often, she was just doing it by rote so she wouldn’t get punished. Over the last few months, I have discovered, thanks to Carolyn Resnick, that the key is to keep the horse’s attention on you and create a trust that makes the horse want to listen to you. That’s how the lead horse in a herd does it. I think the same thing applies to people who are working for you. No one likes to just take orders. It’s so much better to make a request and have a willing response.

Siete was very relaxed with the new farrier today. She’s been anxious and irritable over the last six months when she got her feet trimmed, and I have found myself dreading the old farrier’s visits. This morning, I think that it was a combination of Siete’s developing trust in me and the good vibe of our new friend that made my little horse take it easy, despite the draining of abscesses and hammering of nails. I’ve resigned myself to front shoes for both horses since our pasture seems to grow rocks as fast as it grows grass or weeds. Happily, everyone around here is doing better today, now that hooves are feeling good and the sun is shining.

The Gift of Time

2010-09-16T08:17:00.003-04:00

I’ve been treating Siete for an abscess in her back left foot this week. Over the years that we’ve lived here, we’ve been particularly plagued by this problem as we transition from summer into autumn. It’s a combination of dry weather followed by wet, and the emergence of lots of small rocks in the pasture. So, I know the drill. When I came out to the barn, Siete was standing with her back left foot cocked, and the look she gave me clearly was her way of saying, “Oww!” At first, I felt a small moment of panic since our farrier, John, has moved to Montana. The new farrier isn’t scheduled to come until early October.

I decided to just soak Siete’s foot in Epsom salts and then apply a piece of Animalintex inside one of the Soft Ride boots. Moments after I started to treat her, she instantly relaxed and was obviously no longer in pain. I remembered the days when just getting Siete to stand still with her foot in a warm bucket of water was a real challenge. I thanked her for her good behavior. I thought about how caring for my horses, year in and year out, has taught me not to over-react when something goes wrong. I knew I could handle this, and if I couldn’t, well, we’d be meeting the new farrier a few weeks earlier than planned.

I’ve been reading pro’s and con’s about soaking the foot to pull out an abscess. This time, I didn’t soak it again the way I had for all those previous abscesses. The hoof was clean, so I just moistened and changed the Animalintex in the boot twice a day for three days. Siete was moving around just fine, and I was tempted to stop the treatment. For good measure, I kept the boot on an extra day. Yesterday, I took it off and so far, so good. It’s a big relief for me as well as Siete. I’ve been really busy, not spending enough time with the horses. Each day, I start out promising myself and the girls that I’ll be back later to do this or that. Then, my schedule gets crazy, and next thing I know, I’m tucking the horses in for the night, feeling bad that I never got back there like I said I would and apologizing to Silk and Siete.

When I read Carolyn Resnick’s most recent blog post last night, she asked us what we thought our special gift was with horses. There were some great responses, especially her own. What resonated most for me was when she said: “ I like horses as they are, without them having to do something for me. Even while sharing space with a horse, they do not need to show me affection while in my presence. I am nourished by being in the same area as a horse, and that is reward enough.”

I had a hard time trying to express what I think my gift is with horses. Then, I realized perhaps it is that I am always there for them, reliably on time, anticipating what will make them feel good, and never minimizing or forgetting about their needs. No matter what else is going on in my life, I must care for my horses. And the reason that I do comes from that core belief which Carolyn expressed. I’ve loved being around horses from the first time that my mother wheeled me to a neighbor’s pasture while I was in a baby stroller. Horses don’t have to do anything for me. I just feel better when I am with them.

So, if I can make Siete’s foot stop hurting or share one of my favorite Honey Crisp apples with Silk or do anything to make my horses happier, it also feeds my soul.

Shifting Gears

2010-09-04T09:18:00.005-04:00

I opened the gate to the pasture this morning, and a gust of cool wind wafted across my arms and face. It was a welcome relief from the incredibly oppressive heat and pressure that was in the air as Hurricane Earl came and went this week. My energy level quickened. I expected that Siete would rush from her stall the minute I pulled on the door, happy to be able to run in the cool breeze. Instead, she lumbered out slowly to investigate whether the small pile of hay that I dropped in the pasture was more delectable than the one in the barn.

It made me think about expectations. For me, the fall is always a time of great expectations. I feel this urge to race against the clock and accomplish something before the days get too short and the ground gets too hard. I want to create something new, meet the goals that I slacked off on all summer.

This week, I’ve been especially hard on myself, since I realized that I now have the gift of spending time alone for at least half of the day. My daughter started high school, and she gets on the bus at 6:30 each morning. My mom is no longer here in the house with me, and my husband was away on a business trip. So, I was all by myself, with many precious hours to do anything that I wanted and no one to tell me what to do. It paralyzed me. Of course, the heat was part of what was slowing me down, but also there was the demanding voice in my head that kept reminding me that I should be doing this or that. And the other little nagging doubter in me that kept questioning whether I could do it good enough to make it work.

I spent a lot of my day sprawled on the couch with my orange cat draped across my lap, staring at all the piles of things that I planned to do. Maybe I needed this gestation period to summon up my “windhorse energy”. This morning, I was concerned that Siete wasn’t prancing around, full of pent-up pleasure in the delightful breeze. Then, I reminded myself that neither was I. So I made myself relax and just be okay with the way things are now. It was such a relief to stop having these expectations. A weight was lifted. I decided to just go with the flow of what would make me happy, so I picked up a brush and while Siete munched on her hay I cleaned the shavings and dirt off her back and untangled her mane and tail. We’ll run around when we’re ready, but not today.

And Now for a Little Kindness

2010-08-27T10:08:00.005-04:00

I’ve stopped reading and watching the news this week. The dire stories about the economy are making me too depressed and angry. Normally, I look forward to autumn as a time of new beginnings and hope, but this year, I think a lot of people just want to crawl under the covers and pull the blankets over their heads until things get better out there.

Last night, after dinner, I took a few minutes to watch a video showing Robin Gates, one of Carolyn Resnick’s exceptional students, working with “Pony”, an off the track horse who had some severe problems. It lifted my heart and filled me with hope that even the most dark and damaged situations can be mended with kindness and patient communication.

I hope you’ll take a look at it. It makes me want to go out and hug my horses and thank them for being in my life. To learn more about Robin and her amazing work, check out libertyhorsetraining.com

Ouick, Before I Miss It!

2010-08-20T18:57:00.004-04:00

Suddenly, summer is ending. I’ve been so pre-occupied with the drama of my life that I’ve almost missed the whole season. So, today, I slowed down to a crawl and forced myself to forget about everything else except enjoying the delights of August.

I wandered around the yard to see what was still blooming and ran into so many butterflies. Then, I ate three peaches in a row. This is a good year for peaches, so sweet and full of flavor.

I tried to coax the horses out of the barn to sit with me in the pasture, but they were too hot. After hosing them off, I left them in the cool shade of Siete’s stall. My next-door neighbor called to me from over the fence. She wanted to give me some vegetables from her garden. Green beans, summer squash and fabulous tomatoes are now overflowing on the table in my kitchen as I conjure up some recipes. There’s a loaf of Italian bread and lots of basil in my window garden, so bruschetta comes to mind. I’ve got this wonderful balsamic vinegar and some olive oil that a friend sent me from her own olive grove in California, which I’ve saved for a special occasion. And here it is.

Ah, summer!

Thoughts on a Summer Morning

2010-08-13T18:16:00.003-04:00

Early this morning, before anyone else was awake, I began my usual routine. Feed the cats, make coffee, open the curtains so the sunlight can come into the kitchen. It made me very aware that my mom was not living here anymore.

For many years, there were little tasks that my mother did around the house that she considered her exclusive domain. She was in charge of the dishwasher, running and unloading it, and treating it like a major crime if we left any dirty dishes in the sink. She pulled all the curtains open each morning on all the windows and shut them when it got dark at night. As the dementia demons grew, she wanted to draw them closed in the afternoon while the sun was still shining. I would follow her around and pull them open again. The garbage can in the kitchen was also under her supervision. She was the trash general, ordering us to empty all the other cans in the house and reminding me a thousand times each Tuesday that we had to take the big can down to the end of the driveway so the trash collector would pick it up in the middle of the night while we were sleeping.

I knew that she needed to feel that she was in charge of something, and the number of things she was capable of doing grew smaller and smaller over time. So even though it drove me crazy, I allowed myself to be bossed and nagged, knowing that it gave her a sense of purpose to her day.

Now, every time I unload the dishwasher or open the curtains, I think of her and miss her. I’m getting ready to go visit her at the nursing home this afternoon, and I’m trying to think of new routines and rituals that we can do together up there. I know that she wishes more than anything that she could turn the clock back ten or twenty years. I would be happy just to be able to go back to the way things were ten months ago. It’s a major lesson for me, to realize that we need to appreciate what we’ve got and who we are right here, right now, because in an instant, it could all be changed or gone.

When I was doing my barn chores this morning, I was wishing I could move things along more quickly and that I was further along with Siete in our Waterhole Rituals adventure. If things had been different this summer, we might have been dancing around the pasture together by now. Carolyn Resnick reminds us that we can’t rush this experience, and that most often, our progress has more to do with us and our learning abilities than it does with the horse’s. I sense a profound difference in my relationship with Siete. She is so tuned into me now, and when she challenges me, I no longer worry that I will “make a mistake” and ruin my relationship with her. I understand that it only takes a simple communication, like asking her to move her feet and step away from me, to remind her that I’m the leader. It doesn’t need to be a big correction, and I understand that it is normal and desirable for her to continue to challenge me.

One of the things that I find really interesting is that Carolyn thinks it’s harder to work with foals that were imprinted like Siete was. By teaching my little horse that she can trust humans, I also apparently took away her gas pedal. She isn’t in a hurry when I ask her to trot away from me. In fact, some days, she doesn’t want to go at all. So, while I have a horse that is safe to be around and who has never ever spooked, I also inadvertently seem to have dulled her spirit. I don’t regret this, but it changes the way that I have to communicate with her. It’s a balancing of trust and energy.

Silk, who does spook and is fearful of most people except for me, responds much more quickly and locks into me emotionally when we do the Waterhole Rituals. She likes to “companion walk” with me and clearly enjoys it when I just hang out and act like a horse. Sitting with her in the pasture is as close as I can get to pulling up a mouthful of grass myself and grazing with her, and she lets me know in delightfully expressive ways that she really wants to be with me. One thing I love is when she rests her head on my shoulder while I’m reading. Silk is never pushy, just comfortable to be with me. She responds to me instantly, usually in sync with what I’m doing.

I was wondering -- and you may be too -- if these thoughts about my mom and the horses have a common thread. I guess it really is all about acceptance. In order for any of us to be comfortable in our own skin, we have to accept life the way it is. We can’t wish for what used to be or long for what will come. We just have to be present right now and be open to what is happening in front of us.

Hello, Here I Am

2010-07-30T09:03:00.002-04:00

What a journey I’ve been taking these past six weeks! It feels like it’s been six months and I am so glad that I have reached a point where I can feel my life getting somewhat back to normal. My horses were really good, despite the serious lack of time and attention that I gave them.

A little background --My mother, who lived with us for the last ten years, began her scary trip into the nightmare of dementia about a year ago. I had been coping with the hallucinations and delusions that she experienced, but it was growing more and more difficult. She is turning 96 in August and her hearing and eyesight are terrible. It’s been like watching someone become trapped in a dark closet. In early June, she had a small stroke and was in the hospital for about three weeks. The doctors insisted that I wouldn’t be able to handle caring for her at home anymore. I raced into an eye-opening, depressing search for a place that she could live where I felt she would be treated well and kindly. It’s shocking how we warehouse old people in these expensive storage units known as nursing homes.

I was able to eventually finally find a great place where the people really care and are like a big family. There is even a dog and three cats who live there. My mom likes the place, but desperately wants to come home. The unfortunate part for me and my family is that it is about an hour and a half from our house, so each visit takes up a five or six hour portion of the day. I come home exhausted emotionally and don’t have much left to give to anyone.

Luckily, the horses can go in and out of the barn and pasture as they like. My neighbor checks on them and gives them hay and water , especially when the temperatures get up in the 90’s. Increasingly, I could sense the annoyance and the disconnection radiating from Silk and Siete. After coming so far with my exploration of the Waterhole Rituals, I felt that I had lost everything that we had gained.

I knew that I had to somehow regain the equilibrium in my daily routine. My entire focus had been on my mother, and I was losing all sense of who I was. I forced myself to take care of me, and of course, that included paying attention to Silk and Siete. This week, I began sitting in the pasture with them, sharing territory again. At first, they stayed in the barn and didn’t want to come out to be with me. I was so sad and wished I could turn back the clock. On the second day, Siete came out and eventually Silk joined us. I didn’t allow myself to have any expectations or judgments or an agenda. I just sat and tried to find the feeling that I remember I had before all this chaos began. Finally, yesterday afternoon, I found it.

I had an understanding that what I’ve wanted for my mother came from what I had learned about what my horses needed. I know that my mother must feel that she is loved and respected. I want her to have as much freedom as it is safe for her to have. Wherever she is, she has to have some sense that she is still in control and has some choice about what happens. These are all elements of what I am doing with Silk and Siete when we practice the Waterhole Rituals. Everyone - no matter if you have two legs or four - deserves to have those three basic qualities of life as a foundation for how they exist in this world.

When that thought came to me, Silk was eating from a small pile of hay next to where I was sitting. She suddenly stopped, looked at me and extended her nose so she touched my hands. In that moment, I realized that the horses had accepted me back and that we are going to move forward together.

Life Update

2010-06-14T07:42:00.002-04:00

I have a moment to give you a brief update on what’s going on in our lives right now. My mom, who will be 96 in August, had a stroke. She’s in the hospital and we don’t know if she will be able to come back here to continue living with us. It’s difficult and scary and we’re looking for the blessings where we can find them.

So, the good things are that her doctors and the nurses are excellent. She’s in a quiet safe place. The horses are fine. And my family and friends have been wonderful. I think that’s plenty to be grateful for. I’ll get back to you when things settle down. Your prayers and good energy are much appreciated.

Happy Birthday Little Horse!

2010-05-24T09:47:00.004-04:00

This is a photo of my little horse when she was a baby. It’s hard to believe that Siete is eight years old today. It seems not that long ago that I was standing in the foaling shed watching her take her first few steps. She is an amazing gift, and each year, she gets better and better. In the past few weeks, my relationship with her has deepened and grown so much by spending time with her sharing territory and playing games that communicate with Siete in her own language. It’s been a real eye-opener for me.

One of the things I’ve always felt about Siete is that she has a very strong spirit. As you know from reading my blog all these years, I occasionally find that her spirit is stronger than mine. I’m beginning to better understand and appreciate the times that she challenges me now that I’m learning more about herd behavior and the rituals of wild horses. I’ve known that Siete gets frustrated when she tries to tell me something and I don’t get what she’s saying. There are days when she just doesn’t want to take one more minute of being the low horse in the pecking order around here. She can also sense when I’m in a weak or vulnerable frame of mind and will take advantage of it. Unlike Silk, who gets very protective of me when I’m upset, Siete seems to seize the opportunity with glee and turns up the spunk.

During the last few weeks, after I sit in the pasture with the horses each day, we do some games that involve controlling food and movement to teach the horses to keep an eye on me and follow my lead. Silk doesn’t really need it. For years, she has had an uncanny ability to always know where I am. There are times when I think that Silk can see through the walls of our house and knows everything that goes on with me. Siete hasn’t really cared about me much unless I’m feeding her or trying to do something with her. Now, I’ve noticed that she has developed that same watchful awareness of me, and with it, comes a closeness and more affection towards me.

Call it growing up or just getting more trusting and comfortable with each other, but my relationship with Siete is certainly closer on this birthday than it’s ever been. We’re having fun together, and it’s made my little red horse very happy.

Silk Shows Me How It's Done

2010-05-13T17:07:00.003-04:00

I put out five small piles of hay in the pasture so I could play the Circle Game with Siete this afternoon. Both horses were grazing, so I sat down in my chair and read for about twenty minutes. Siete finally got interested in one of the piles of hay. After she ate for a little while, I came over with my reed and moved her onto the next pile. Then, I sat down again with my book. Her mother, Silk, went over to the same pile and began eating the hay with Siete. Just as I was about to get up and move Siete again, Silk poked her nose at Siete's side and shoved her off to the next pile of hay.

I decided to stay in my chair and see what happened next. Silk proceeded to move Siete from pile to pile around the circle just like I was going to do. I got up and companion walked next to Silk for a while and then invited her to come over to my own little special pile of hay next to my chair. As I stood next to Silk while she ate, Siete looked up at me in surprise. I held the eye contact and walked up to say hello to her. Then, I invited her to join us at my special extra good hay pile. We walked next to each other over to where Silk was already eating. I sat in my chair again and began reading, happily listening to my girls munching contentedly. While I appreciate that Silk wanted to show me that she knew her place in the pecking order and that it appeared I had been trying to do her job herding Siete, I also decided that tomorrow, mama will stay in the barn while Siete and I are in the pasture.

In Their Own Language

2010-05-11T17:58:00.005-04:00

This morning, when I fed the horses, I also opened the stall doors, and Siete rudely shoved her way past me out into the corral to eat the flake of hay that I had left out there. That's not okay, so I immediately told her that it was mine, not hers, and chased her to the far end of the corral. It was a little early for me to think clearly, but I heard Carolyn Resnick’s voice in my head telling me to keep strong but flexible boundaries. Siete was sulking. Head down, she came around to Silk's stall and joined her mother, eating from that pile. Then, as soon as I turned away, she charged back to the hay I had claimed as mine. Again, I waved her away and told her that she couldn't have it, and she retreated to her own stall to eat the hay in there.

So, when we began our Waterhole Ritual of sharing territory later in the day, I wasn't sure how Siete was going to act towards me. I had a feeling that she was still annoyed. There had been a huge commotion next door that I am proud to say my horses totally ignored. Our neighbors’ enormous tree had fallen across their driveway in the windstorm Sunday night. With chain saws and wood chippers and lots of loud, violent sounding noise, a crew of tree-trimmers cleaned it up for a couple of hours. After they were finished, I opened the big gate between the corral and the pasture so Silk and Siete could come and go into their stalls as they chose. I placed my chair in the pasture and began to read. Both horses joined me and grazed happily for a while.

Then, following Carolyn’s suggestion, I took a small bowl of carrots and put it under my chair. She wants Siete to become rude because she thinks it indicates that Siete trusts me more and knows she can speak out about how she feels. This exercise is supposed to develop the horse’s ability to listen and pay attention to me. I returned to reading. (I should add here that the horses aren’t wearing halters, and the only thing that I have to guide them is a “reed”, literally a long, very flexible grass reed from a water plant.) Neither horse came near me. After about 20 minutes, I stood up and brought a piece of carrot to Siete and thanked her for her good manners. When I sat down again and began reading, she approached me. I stood up and calmly waved the reed lightly, asking Siete to back away. She knows that when I wave the reed, I’m telling her that I want more space, and she left me alone. Slowly, I walked over to her and gave her another piece of carrot, praising her for listening to me. She turned and walked back to her stall and stood in the doorway, looking at me expectantly.

Silk came to me as soon I sat down again, ready for her piece of carrot. I stopped her by gently waving the reed and told her that she would have to go away to be able to get the treat. She looked really indignant and reluctantly stepped back. Miffed, she walked away. Then, I stood up and brought her a piece of carrot. I told her that I knew that she was a good horse, and I thanked her. She took it and began grazing again. I sat down, picking up my book again. Siete made her way back out into the pasture, so after awhile, I decided to try another exercise called the "Hello Ritual". I looked her in the eye and walked up to her, and she extended her nose to greet me. I touched her forehead, said hello and walked away. Over the next ten minutes, I did this again with Siete several times and she responded with interest and was glad to see me. This exercise gives the horse control of the situation and also shows her that she can trust me. When I approach her, I must follow her lead. If she greets me, I reply and then, take the pressure off by leaving her. These reciprocal movements are the beginning of the dance. Sometimes, you need to lead and sometimes you follow.

Each time I sat down in my chair, I felt a rising sensation of happiness begin to bubble up. I couldn't stop smiling. After about the fourth time that Siete looked me in the eye and lifted her nose towards my hand, I positively floated back to my seat. It seemed to me that my little horse was thinking, "Oh good, after all these years, she's finally speaking my language!"

Even though I've watched the "Waterhole Rituals" DVD over and over and read Carolyn's book, “Naked Liberty” twice, this time, everything seems to be clicking for me. I think that having the opportunity in long phone calls every two weeks to listen to Carolyn explain what she would like us to do and why we are doing it and having other students in the group ask questions helps make the pieces fit together better and become more clear for me. Today, I really believed in my heart for the first time that Siete would be interested in playing with me and eventually dancing with me, and it filled me with joy.

Carolyn was saying that we’ve been taught to be rigid with horses. That means the horse learns the rules, but stops paying attention to you. With the Waterhole Rituals, we’re beginning a new dialogue. To be able to learn this way of communication that is instinctive, basic and based on herd dynamics found in groups of wild horses while using the sophistication of the Internet and video and distance-learning technology is really remarkable.

I’m so grateful to Carolyn for her adventurous, open-minded and generous spirit. She is inspiring me to take a leap of faith and giving me more confidence and a greater comfort level when I communicate with Siete and Silk. For the last year, I’ve been lamenting that if I still lived in San Diego, I would have been able to work with Carolyn Resnick. I’ve looked and looked for a horse trainer near me here on the East Coast that seemed like a good fit and haven’t found anyone. It is amazing to think that I can learn to train my horse long distance like this with the very person that I most wanted as our teacher. Imagine all the other things that we can learn now that we have these resources available to us. It boggles my mind and thrills me.

My Two Smart Horses

2010-05-07T15:04:00.004-04:00

Today was so beautiful and sunny, and it just felt like the right time to try the circle game with Siete. I placed the five piles of hay in a big circle about 20 feet apart. Then, I left some hay in the barn for Silk to eat and opened the gate between the corral and the barn so the horses could choose where they wanted to go. I sat down on my chair in the shade in the pasture and began reading a book.

Siete soon wandered out, curious, as always, about what was going on. She stopped to eat at the first pile of hay. After she had been munching for a little while, I approached her and asked her to move to the next pile. She did without any hesitation. We followed the same action around the circle. I would ask her to move on to the next pile. She did and stopped to eat. After a few bites, I’d ask her to go to the next one and she would walk calmly to our next stop. We went around the circle twice. Then, when we got to the last pile, after she took a bite, she shook her head at me and ran back into the barn. She stood in the doorway of her stall and looked at me, as if to say, “See? Wasn’t I a good kid? But that’s enough of that game.” I went outside the pasture, found a piece of carrot and gave her a treat, thanking her for her cooperation.

Then, I put a flake of hay in the pasture next to my chair and sat down . As soon as I started to read, Silk ambled out of the barn to join me. She put her nose on my hand to greet me and then began to eat the hay next to me. Siete came out again too and grazed on the grass about 40 feet away, not looking at us. It was so relaxing, and the weather was perfect. We stayed like this for about twenty minutes.

Siete finally came over and stood next to her mother. Silk immediately took half of the hay that was left and pushed it firmly under my chair with her nose. I started to laugh and thanked her and kept on reading. Siete took a big mouthful of hay and walked up behind me. I couldn’t figure out what she was going to do but I ignored her. She dropped the hay on me all over my head and my book. I laughed so hard and reached up to rub her face. Satisfied, she moved away and began grazing again.

I’ve noticed that Silk stays away from us when Siete and I are interacting. I explained to Mama Silk before I began practicing the Waterhole Rituals what I was going to do and why I thought it would be good for me and Siete. She gets it, like any good mother would.

The Pause In Between

2010-05-06T08:00:00.005-04:00

Siete and I are going to move on to a new exercise as part of the Waterhole Rituals. I am supposed to place five small piles of hay in a circle that is 20 feet in diameter. After Siete begins eating at one pile of hay, I will ask her to move on to the next one, the intention being that I will be able to eventually direct her calmly and easily to go around the circle from pile to pile at my request. It is the beginning of what Carolyn Resnick calls “leading from behind”.

I feel like my horse and I are both ready to try it, but I’ve been stuck for the last couple of days unable to move forward. My mind is full of “what if’s”, and I worry that I will do the wrong thing and give Siete the wrong message. I am going to need to respond spontaneously and confidently to what ever my horse offers me. I keep reminding myself of what I learned from one of my friends last year. Don’t think of what happens as a mistake, just learn from it and do the next thing you think you need to do. It should be a process for both me and Siete, without any right or wrong or blame or guilt.
My hesitation reminded me of an article that I read recently called “Open Stillness”, written by Elizabeth Mattis-Namgyel. She talks about rock climbing in Colorado and reaching a place suspended on the rock where she can’t see any possibilities for moving up or down:

“Hanging off a rock is an exaggerated experience of facing the unknown. It is exhilarating, scary, and completely vibrant. When we can’t find a foothold, the mind falls into an open stillness— the same brief pause we encounter in any situation where we lose our familiar reference points. If we have the wherewithal to relax, we find our way. If we don’t, we sometimes panic. When reactive mind responds to situations where we lose our reference points, our body tightens, our breath shortens, our vision narrows.

After a while, muscle strain stirs our sensibilities: “I can’t stay like this forever!” We don’t have the luxury of avoidance, so we start to work with our mind and slowly it softens. Now, this is the fascinating part: as everything softens, all kinds of new patterns and shapes begin to emerge from the rock. We see places to balance we didn’t see before. We’re not doomed after all! As we soften and open, we access a special intelligence, unimpeded by habitual, reactive mind.”

It reminded me of an experience I had in college where I was climbing up a steep hill and got stuck exactly as she describes, afraid and unable to move in either direction. In that instance, I started laughing so hard at myself that I began crying, and eventually, one of my friends crawled below me and pushed my bottom and my feet until I could move to the next foothold. This time, the only friends I have out here in the pasture are my two horses. I’ve decided to include Silk in this exercise since I trust her and I think she might be able to help me find my balance with her daughter. In the end, though, it’s up to me to be the leader here.

I’m going to allow myself to be peaceful now in this pause before I begin climbing again and take some time to reflect on what I’m afraid might happen and why I would feel that way. Since Siete was born, I’ve always worried that I will do something that would ruin her and cause her to distrust humans. And despite my good intentions and best efforts, we’ve had some tough times with thoughtless, ego-driven trainers, vets and farriers. I know that what we are doing together now will heal us and lead to a mutual trust. It will take as long as it will take, no predicting when it will happen. So for right now, I’m not going to get impatient or annoyed with myself or even call it “being stuck”. I’d rather see it as a time to gather my “windhorse energy”, as the Buddhists call it. Siete has no agenda, and I have to be careful to listen to her and not try to create or force one of my own. I know I will be able to feel when we are ready to move forward from hay pile to hay pile.

Soooo Cute!

2010-05-02T15:14:00.005-04:00

When we picked up hay this morning, we discovered that our favorite farmer has 11 new baby cows in his field. They were incredibly sweet and my daughter was dying to bring one home. Fortunately, there was no room with all the hay. With temperatures in the mid-80's, these little guys have the right idea -- naptime.

Sharing Territory

2010-04-29T16:36:00.003-04:00

I almost didn’t sit in the paddock with the horses today. Even though it was sunny and warmer than it’s been, the wind was really strong. It was the kind of wind that really swirls up your mane and makes you kind of spooky. I decided to try sitting and reading a book and if it was too much, I could always stop.

The horses ignored me at first, as they usually do, and just ate some hay near the water bucket. I moved my chair up near the fence so I wouldn’t blow over. The wind was gusting around 25 to 30 mph and the sound of the trees blowing was like waves in the ocean. It was pretty intense. Siete ambled over to visit me and sniff my knees. I ignored her, as I’m supposed to, since part of what this first Waterhole Ritual does is set personal boundaries for the horse and re-inforce a core code of conduct that the herd follows. I’m sitting, without expectations or an agenda, but there’s a surprising amount going on in my interactions with the horses.

Anyway, I turned my attention to my book, "The Exquisite Risk", by poet Mark Nepo. I almost fell off my chair when I read this: “So what does it mean to be real? I would suggest that it involves both an outer commitment and an inner commitment: an outer commitment to live as close to our experience as possible, and an inner commitment to keep our individual spirit aligned with the soul of the world, an outer commitment to stay transparent until what we experience is what we feel, and an inner commitment to stay transparent until who we are is joined to the source of life, the way a drop of rainwater joins the ocean. As well, to be real involves an acceptance of being cleansed of everything false and extraneous… So where are you in this endless journey? Where are you in your struggle between isolation and relatedness, between nothing and everything? Where are you in your struggle to align your spirit with the soul of the world? Are you strengthening your will or your connections? Are you thickening your walls or making yourself transparent? Are you holding your breath or breathing your way through?”

Carolyn Resnick says that “every day with a horse is a new deal.” I’m really glad that I made the choice this afternoon to sit with Silk and Siete and let the wind blow me awake.

A Slow Adventure

2010-04-27T09:30:00.011-04:00

I’ve embarked on a new journey that is taking place in my backyard. For the last couple of months, I’ve been feeling disconnected from Silk and Siete. As you know, taking care of them during all the rain and flooding was not fun. Often, I was so exhausted and cold and wet that all I wanted to do was run back to my warm house. I could feel the two horses bonding closer to each other and growing more distant from me. I was blaming myself for not spending more time with them and feeling guilty that I didn’t have more time to give.

Once again, in the amazing way that it can revitalize me, some of my favorite blogs brought me around to a new way of looking at my world. It began with Kate at A Year With Horses, posting a thoughtful and caring piece about whether she was ready to take a break from her horses. Although I totally understood how she was feeling, when I looked at my own relationship with Silk and Siete, I realized that right now, I really needed them to help me hold onto myself and remind me of who I am. Doing what I do for them to make the barn safe and comfortable, to keep them fed and happy is really a way of taking care of my soul and honoring what’s important to me.

Then, I watched a video that Carolyn Resnick posted on her blog that lifted my heart. It was one of her students, Robin Gates, dancing with her horse, Fresco. I couldn’t stop looking at it over and over. I knew that right now, I don’t want to ride my horses, I want to dance with them. I was, however, a bit intimidated at the prospect of getting out there and actually trying it. Like a perfectly timed answer from the blogosphere, I got the nudge I needed when Carolyn decided to offer her Waterhole Rituals course again this Spring. I signed up and received all kinds of help and encouragement instantly as I was able to listen and download an insightful interview with her and phone conversations teaching me how to start this adventure of better communication with my horses. It’s just what Siete and I need to do together right now, and it begins with doing nothing.

The first ritual is to share space with your horse. I sit in a chair in the paddock for an hour each day reading a book while Siete is there with me. “Spending time doing nothing leads to something that would otherwise never have happened.” Carolyn says. On her blog, there are comments from other people all over the world who are doing this same course and having incredible experiences with their horses. It lifted me up to find so many other horse lovers out there making these same deep connections with their own animals. I’m not alone in my feelings about my horses, and through the Internet and Carolyn’s efforts, something really remarkable is happening. I’m so glad to be part of this community, and it reaches beyond just the horse world.

I often read Jon Katz’s blog, Bedlam Farm Journal, and I’ve been very interested in his plans for a new book about grieving over animals who have died. He quoted from a book called “Twins” by Dorothy Burlingham, about how a child’s love for animals can come out of loneliness and solitude: “The two share everything, good and bad experiences, and complete understanding of each other; either speech is not necessary, or they have a secret language. The understanding between them goes beyond the realm of consciousness.” That’s what I’ve been feeling with Siete. It’s the relationship that I already have with her mother, and I’ve been longing for it with my little horse.

Spending an hour sitting in a chair with my horse isn’t easy for me. Time is a precious gift, and I never have enough of it. My mother and my husband look out the window at me and shake their heads. I’m glad that I’m in the solitude of my own backyard so I can avoid anyone’s judgment or ridicule. To force myself to slow down to a total halt and do nothing brings me to the same level of awareness that Siete has as she’s grazing next to me. I feel one with her. It’s a huge commitment to slow down.

I just learned the term “slow blogging”, coined by Todd Sieling a few years ago. “Slow blogging is a rejection of immediacy. It is an affirmation that not all things worth reading are written quickly.” he says. As you’ve probably noticed, I’m blogging a lot less than I used to and find that many of my friends in the blogosphere are too. I was feeling a bit guilty about it, worrying that everyone would forget about me. Now, I see that there’s an ebb and flow we all follow. I’ll be mentioning my new slow adventure with Siete here on my blog as we make our way along. One of the things that I love is that Carolyn insists that there should be no agenda. Every day is simply taken as it comes, and that’s what makes it so wonderful. I was in New York for two days last week and by the time I came home, I was dying to be with my horses. I missed them so much. My love for them is being renewed, just like the lilacs, tulips and the other flowers are beginning to bloom again.

RIP Chief

2010-04-14T11:43:00.003-04:00

I don’t mean to bum everyone out with a sad story. I even thought about just not mentioning it, but it’s kind of amazing that one white rooster would have such an impact on so many people. I’m not usually fond of chickens, as I’ve told you before, but our neighbor, the Chief, really captured my heart. And now, he’s gone.

It was very weird. I saw the rooster and his girls coming over to our yard from across the road yesterday. I was on my way next door to my other neighbor’s house to use her fax machine, but I ran back to the kitchen and grabbed the bag of bread scraps and corn chips that we save for them. The little band of birds had already crossed over and were gathered in the bushes between our house and the one next door. They like to root around in the dirt and take naps over there. Two of the hens saw me sprinkle the goodies next to my forsythia bushes. I thought it was odd that the Chief didn’t come running with his funny hop-along, wait- wait- I’m-in-charge-here gait like he normally did. I went into my neighbor’s house and didn’t really think about it again.

Ten minutes later, she and I walked outside, and I could see that all the hens were eating in my yard, but the Chief was still in the bushes. I had a bad feeling. My neighbor went to check it out, but I couldn’t go look. “He’s a goner,” she announced. He didn’t appear to have suffered, just fallen asleep and passed away. I started to cry. Of course, the people who own him and their three little kids were even more upset than I was. We had a little funeral by the henhouse. My daughter, my 95 year old mom, several neighbors, and the immediate family attended. We were all very sad.

Why do I need to tell you this and why am I so touched by a gimpy white rooster? I’ve been seriously considering what made him so special. He was loved, and he knew it. Everyone treated him with kindness and respect. The children played with him like they would with a dog. He watched after his harem and if one of the hens wandered off, he’d run right over and push her back with the others so she didn’t get hurt. He would eat corn chips, his favorite treat, out of my hand and let me stroke his smooth feathers. On Monday afternoon, I was down by the barn when he came over to spend some quality time with his ladies under my forsythia bushes. He crowed to me, and I waved my arm to welcome them. What he did in response made me laugh with delight. He lifted himself up and flapped both his big wings at me, as if he was waving back. Who would have thought that a simple chicken could touch and connect so many people? Each one of us had our own favorite stories and routines that we shared with this personable fellow.

A good rooster is hard to find. They’re going out today to hopefully find a new one, but he’s got some big clawprints to fill. We’ll all miss you, Chief.

Dry Ground

2010-04-12T09:05:00.009-04:00

We might finally be drying out around here. When I went out to feed the girls this morning, I was happy to feel solid ground under my feet in both stalls and the corral. Siete’s side was the worst, and she’s been a very unhappy little horse. All the wood pellet bedding that I dumped into her stall to absorb the ground water that was coming up from underneath the barn has made the footing very deep. For a while, when the horses walked, their hoofprints would be filled with water oozing up. It was driving me crazy because I couldn’t compact the material enough to soak up the moisture.

Siete was getting really surly about it. One evening last week, she absolutely refused to go back into her stall for dinner. I was rushing and her resistance to leave her mother’s side of the barn really aggravated me. I tried to force her to go, but she wouldn’t budge. In frustration, I walked back to the house, leaving her dinner in her stall and both doors open, in case she changed her mind. Then, I realized that if I were Siete, I wouldn’t want to go in there either.

I felt bad for her, but the problem was that with both horses in the same stall all night, Silk wouldn’t have room to lie down. She needs to get off her feet at night with her arthritis. Siete didn’t want to lie down either, and as a result, off and on these past two weeks, I’ve been treating a hoof abscess in her back right foot. I couldn’t, in good conscience, force Siete to stay in her stall that night. When I went back after it got dark to check on her, she was still with her mom. As soon as they saw me, both horses ran into Siete’s stall and stood there together in solidarity. Nope, we’re not going to let you lock her in this place. I looked at their hoofprints in front of me, by the door, filling up with the ground water, and wanted to cry. There seemed to be no way to fix this problem. It was also starting to rain again. We had over 14 inches of rain in less than a week. As I left them, the girls headed back to Silk’s drier bedding on the other side of the barn.

The next night, Siete ran right into her stall as soon as I approached with the dinner buckets. I was glad I hadn’t forced the issue, and she seemed to accept that things were what they were. Even though I was doing the best that I could do, I felt so stressed out that I couldn’t fix the problem. I really believe that my horses are as calm and happy as they are because they have safe, comfortable stalls where they can get off their feet at night. Fortunately, the situation has been steadily improving now that we’ve had sunny warm weather for almost a week. Now, I know that we shouldn't anthropomorphisize our animals but... The strange thing was that every day, I’ve been telling Siete that she needs to lie down again to rest her feet. To my astonishment, when I fed her last night, she actually dropped down on her side and rolled around in her stall while I was standing there, as if to show me that it was okay again. That’s my girl.

A Tale of 3 Babkas

2010-04-06T18:18:00.005-04:00

My mother is Polish, and as she approaches her 96th birthday, she is increasingly drawn to things that remind her of her heritage. A few weeks ago, she told me a story about how the women in her home baked a sweet bread called babka around Easter time. The children weren’t allowed in the kitchen for several days as the babka was rising and in the ovens because it couldn’t be disturbed. She loves these high-topped loaves, even though no one else in our family likes to eat them.

I found a Polish grocery store about forty-five minutes drive from our house and took her there. She was unimpressed. They had babka, but she insisted, speaking Polish to the woman behind the counter, that it wasn’t REAl babka. It wasn’t round, and there were no raisins, and it had cheese and strawberries. The woman replied that there are many types of babka. My mother sniffed contemptuously, but I bought some anyway. It wasn’t eaten by anyone in our house, and when I tore up the remains and fed it to the birds, only the crows would touch it. I told my friend who owns the UPS store about the search for real babka. She’s Polish and said that her mother makes it at this time of year. Yes, it had raisins in it and was tall and round. She offered to ask her mother to bake some for us. I came home and told my mother, thinking that the search for babka was over. No such luck. Every day for over a week, my mom would ask me again and again when that woman was going to bring the babka. Finally, I was at the Stop ‘n Shop buying groceries, and lo and behold, they had babka for sale! It looked like what my mother had described, so I bought it. Unfortunately, our resident babka expert proclaimed it was too dry and not sweet. Again, I sprinkled the remains for our neighbor’s chickens and other birds, but this time, only the squirrels ate it.

My mother grew more and more disappointed that the lady who promised to bake the babka didn’t deliver. Another friend suggested that I look on-line at Martha Stewart’s recipes because her mother was Polish and they were deliciously authentic. Sure enough, there was a video of Martha’s mom making babka. I decided to try it, even though the recipe called for yeast and I have a fear of anything that calls for yeast and rising and punching dough. My daughter offered to help, and together we toiled in the kitchen for several hours the night before Easter. Just as we were finally ready to bake the three loaves of babka, my oven broke. It was now about ten o’clock at night.

Luckily, I have a neighbor who plays backgammon on-line until the wee hours. We schlepped the three babkas to her house and put them in the oven. They were supposed to bake for a half hour, but it was obvious that they weren’t done and we were awkwardly sitting in her living room when she clearly didn’t want to be entertaining anyone. Martha Stewart’s mom said that you know that the babka is ready if it makes a hollow sound when you knock on it. My neighbor offered to call me when she had knocked and heard the babka’s appropriate reply. About twenty minutes later, the phone rang and we went back to retrieve our bread so she could go to bed.

The babka looked golden brown and very pretty, plus at this point, I’d been involved in this baking experiment for over six hours. I glazed the loaves with a sugary frosting and called it a night. After taking my mom to a Polish church to hear mass on Easter Sunday, we came home to eat the babka. As soon as I cut into the first one, I knew there was trouble. It wasn’t cooked all the way through. I tried the other two but they were also not baked enough. I promised my mother that I would try again once the oven was fixed. She said that enough was enough and this was a good babka recipe that we could make again next Easter.

I have to admit I was relieved to have a whole year to rest up before I tried it again. As I stood looking at a table full of chopped up half-baked babka, my neighbor’s rooster, the Chief, crowed outside my window. He’s a special guy. I confess he’s won my heart, so I crumbled up a whole babka and presented it to him. He wolfed it down, chasing away the hens when they tried to join in the feast.

At least someone loves my babka.
‘

More Sun Please

2010-03-26T15:09:00.003-04:00

The ground is so saturated from all the rain that we’ve been having that water is just bubbling up in the horses’ stalls. Even the magical drainage ditch around the barn is still full of water, despite my frequent efforts to keep it flowing. We had a few days of sun, but more rain last night. Siete’s stall is worse than Silk’s, and she’s not a happy camper.

As soon as the sun comes out, the girls lie down in the pasture. I don’t think that Siete can get comfortable at night. Her usual secure routine has been disturbed. Now, the temperatures are dropping down into the 20’s tonight, so I’m wondering if I’ll have to contend with ice by tomorrow morning. Frankly, it’s getting to be a bit too much for all of us around here.

My computer is also in a funk. Without warning, the dear old laptop makes a small popping noise and the screen goes blank. It may need to have the logic board replaced. Don’t you wish that there were some people who could also be scheduled to have their logic boards replaced? It’s been a difficult week.

What I need right now is some nice and easy.

PS- I just noticed that Siete is lying in the same position in this photo as she was in the one posted in my profile to the right of it showing her when she was first born, with her mother behind her. What a difference 7 years makes - but she's still our baby!

Fumbling in the Dark

2010-03-18T08:34:00.006-04:00

I found myself aware of something at 5 am this morning that I normally don’t question. As a result of moving the clocks ahead, my mornings are now significantly darker when I go outside. What struck me today was that it was also totally impossible to see as I tried to get dressed in my bedroom. There had been a brief alteration of my routine over the last couple of weeks , and I didn’t realize its effect until things went back to normal.

For many years, so as not to wake up my husband, I’ve been used to getting dressed in the dark. I leave my clothes neatly stacked up in order next to my bed so I can quickly pull them on without looking at them. I always feel for the tags on the back of my pants and shirts so I don’t get them on backwards. It’s never occurred to me that putting on my clothes this way is inconvenient, difficult or annoying. Until today. This says a lot about me, I think.

My husband has just returned from a lengthy business trip. During the time he was away, I was able to wake up, turn on the light next to my bed and see what I was doing when I got dressed. I could be spontaneous. I didn’t have to plan ahead. I didn’t have to feel if everything was going on in the right direction. It was liberating. So, now that he’s home and things are back to “normal”, I found myself fumbling around in the dark again. I had forgotten to prepare for this situation, so I couldn’t find anything I needed. Eventually, I resorted to turning on the flashlight that I keep on my nightstand. Of course, this woke up the hibernating bear that was sleeping in my bed. Growling ensued.

It made me consider how often we do things by rote and never question the discomfort that it causes us. I haven’t written anything here on my blog since we had all the flooding over the weekend. We got five inches of rain in one day, and it rocked my world. The basement flooded. The garage where I store my hay flooded. Both stalls in the barn flooded. Trees came down in my neighbor’s yard and blocked our road. The only good news was that we didn’t lose our electricity. The bad news was it just kept raining and blowing. Naturally, my husband was out of town. He has an uncanny way of missing all these big weather events around here.

Five hundred and fifty pounds of wood pellets later, the barn still is oozing up water when the horses step in the front of their stalls. Luckily, they have very large stalls, with doors at both ends. We’ve changed the routine so they eat in the back instead of the front. It’s disoriented Siete but not Silk. Occasionally, with old age, we become more adaptable. Siete hates being in the barn right now, and as soon as I open the door to the corral and the pasture, she rushes to dry land. Every day, I go out to shovel and invent new ways for the water to drain. It’s a lot like fumbling around in the dark.

Sometimes, it doesn’t take much to shift the balance. I realized that we can choose not to be frustrated and open ourselves to new possibilities. As I stumbled downstairs to make a pot of coffee, I came up with the brilliant idea that tomorrow, I would try getting dressed in the bathroom.

Almost Here

2010-03-12T17:47:00.005-05:00

I can feel it. Spring is almost here. My orchids are blooming. Little green sprouts are poking out of the ground. The girls are feeling frisky, We’re going to get a whopping rainstorm tomorrow, so I’ve been prepping the corral, the drainage ditch and the barn for the last few days.

In an effort to flatten the craters that the horses’ hooves have carved into the corral in front of their stalls, I had one of my neighbor’s teenage son drive his quad over and roll back and forth across the corral to smooth it out. It worked well, and I didn’t really even think about how the horses would react to this shiny red vehicle with big tires churning and wheeling around in front of their stall doors while they watched from just inside the barn. The young driver’s dad showed up and loudly announced, “I’m impressed!” I assumed he was talking about his son’s efforts, but he was talking about my horses. He couldn’t believe how calm and nonchalant they were about the noise and commotion.

I realized that I just take it as a given that they will be good. When we lived in Virginia, there were always huge tractors and earthmovers rumbling around the farm while I rode them. It was no drama. I’ve seen my husband use his chainsaw to cut wood on the other side of the fence here while the horses just ignore him and eat grass. The weed-whacker is also not a big deal. The only thing that ever seems to bother Silk is if a man wears a baseball cap and sunglasses. I’ll never know what that association is, but I can bet it has something to do with the guy who abused her. There’s no doubt that it still takes her a while to warm up to most men because of those terrible experiences.

Anyway, after everyone left, I pulled out the carrots to let the girls know that I appreciated them. In case you can’t tell from this picture, they have perfected the art of begging.

Tag, I'm It

2010-02-26T17:21:00.003-05:00

What a lovely treat to get an award in the middle of all this flooding and snow removal. We got an insane amount of rain yesterday, flooding Silk’s stall overnight. On top of the lakes of water, we now have about a foot of snow. So, while taking a break from all the backbreaking work, I checked in with my blog friends this afternoon and found this from Kate at A Year With Horses. Thanks for brightening this dreary day!

The rules are to link to the person who gave the award, tell you all 7 things about myself and send this game of tag on to 15 other bloggers. Since I’ve been seeing this award on so many of my favorite blogs, I’m not going to attempt to name anyone, but just invite all of you who want to play to pick up the award and have at it.

So, with no further ado, here are my 7 revelations:

1. One of my favorite things is a felt cowboy hat I’ve had for about 15 years. It’s stained and my daughter is a bit embarrassed when I wear it, but I love it. A hat for all seasons. It is the essence of me.

2. I love to read. I just finished “Let the Great World Spin” by Colum McCann. I am about to start “The Immortal Life of Henrietta Lacks” by Rebecca Skloot.

3. I have no strength in my arms. Can’t do a push up or pull up, even though I’ve been scooping 80 pounds of poop a day for the past 5 years. And today, after all that shoveling, I am really feeling like a total weakling. Don't ask me to hold anything valuable. My arms are jelly.

4. I’ll take vanilla over chocolate any day. Every night before bed, I have a glass that’s half vanilla soy milk and half 1% milk. And I love vanilla frosting.

5. When I start really laughing, it’s hard for me to stop - and why should I? I have a few friends that know how to get me going. And my husband, who has a wicked sense of humor. That’s one of the reasons I married him.

6. I used to be insanely skinny. When I was younger, I weighed less than 120 pounds and I’m almost 5’8”. Those days are long gone.

7. Silence is magical to me. I was just outside in the snow and it was perfectly quiet. There aren’t many moments in my day where it’s silent, and I treasure them.

Another Snow Day

2010-02-23T09:31:00.003-05:00

If the Universe is sending me a message over and over in these last few days, it is that in an instant, everything can change. Yesterday, I was outside with the horses wearing only a sweatshirt, preparing for another storm. It’s always sort of magical to me that I can go to sleep at night with the world outside my window looking one way and then, in complete silence, the entire landscape is transformed, blanketed and beautiful.

As much as I complain about winter this year, there are always a few moments of delight when I see the snow falling and the perfect, pristine white expanse. The thought of “appreciate this while it’s here” is being drilled into me on so many different levels right now. What’s equally important is that I’m feeling a shift in energy around here in the last few days that opens me up to feeling hopeful and to being able to imagine and plan for the future. Maybe it takes going deep inside and asking myself what’s really important that allows the darkness and fog to clear. Maybe it’s reminding myself that I am not going to sink and drown despite anyone else's mood and problems. I’ve taken some time to go back to re-examine what my goals were a year ago and whether that’s still the direction I want to head. Some of these goals are still where my heart is, but others have shifted or fallen by the wayside.

I feel like I’m coming up from hibernation. As I walked along the path to the barn yesterday, I noticed the iris bulbs have started sprouting in the dirt and the lilac bushes are full of buds. At first, I thought, oh no, they will all die when it snows again tomorrow. Then, I realized that they would be fine and that this happens every year, so they will get through it. Despite a few setbacks, they will grow and bloom when the time is right.

Silk and Siete are accepting and patient today about the disappearance of those wonderful small bits of grass they nibbled in the pasture yesterday. Unfortunately, they don’t love the hay that I picked up for them on Sunday. Siete pooped all over hers. Silk knew that it’s all they’ve got, so she’s eating it. I reminded young Siete to just be thankful that they have hay as nice as this, but I didn’t need to tell that to my old red mare. She understands this life lesson a lot better than I do.

In Memory of Lyle

2010-02-22T13:25:00.003-05:00

One of the good ones is gone. Today, I sat down at the computer with my first cup of coffee and checked in with Linda at the 7MSN Ranch, as I do most mornings. In case you haven’t seen her blog, her dear red horse, Skippa Little Lyle, died. My heart goes out to her, and as the day progresses, I just get sadder and sadder.

First, I want to say that from Linda’s description of what happened, I think she was very brave, especially considering that she was all alone. I remember what a wreck I was last summer when my dog, Pepper, died, and I had my husband and daughter with me, to carry me home sobbing. There’s no doubt that Linda did everything right, but it doesn’t make it any easier when you lose a loved one. And while I never met Lyle face to face, after all these years of blogging, I feel like I know him really well. The Internet has made a such powerful connection for all of us to become good friends, but the one thing it can’t do is let me give Linda the big hug that I wish I could give her right now.

So all I can do is keep going out to my barn to be with Silk and Siete. These terrible things can happen so suddenly. One minute, everything is fine, and the next, it’s not and they’re gone. On this sunny day, as my horses enjoy some much needed warmth in the pasture, I can’t stop rubbing my face in Silk’s neck and putting my arms around Siete to appreciate every minute I have with them. I think about Linda and her other sweet boy, Hank, and the rest of her wonderful animals, and my heart keeps breaking over and over.

Our animals help us to learn how to love better, and in the end, isn’t that what counts? Let’s stop what we’re doing right now and take a moment to honor Lyle for all the love he gave.

Come From the Heart

2010-02-20T09:24:00.002-05:00

“You got to sing like you don't need the money
Love like you'll never get hurt
You got to dance like nobody's watchin'
It's gotta come from the heart if you want it to work “

Guy Clark lyrics, “Come From the Heart”

I’m singing that good ol’ cowboy wisdom today as I head out to the barn. The temperature is supposed to go up into the 40’s, and I detect a hint of Spring in the air. It’s not going to lull me into thinking that winter is over, especially with predictions of two new snowstorms heading towards us this coming week. Yet, I’m going to go over to the nursery today and pick up some bulbs to coax into bloom on my kitchen windowsill. I’ve got three orchid plants that are ready to flower any day now.

Siete cut herself yesterday on a sharp chuck of ice as she ran around in the pasture. I don’t know what was scarier, watching her slip and slide or seeing her back white sock covered with red blood. Once I inspected it, I knew it was only a scratch, even though it bled like crazy. After washing her leg off, I put Biozide wound dressing gel on it. For a moment, I hesitated because the gel has iodine in it and I knew that it would stain her white leg bright orange. The stuff works so well that I decided it was my safest, best choice. When it heals, I’ll worry getting her furry leg back to white again. This morning, everything appeared to be mending well. It was like when my daughter skinned her knee, only Siete was a calmer patient. She didn’t squirm or squeal and ignored me while she stuffed hay in her mouth.

Her acceptance of what I was doing was so complete that it made me realize how Siete has come to trust me in the same way that her mother does. I felt really good about her reaction when I entered her stall with my arms full of cotton pads, wound dressing gel, warm water and all the other first aid paraphernalia. She just looked it over with some interest and then, as I began to clean her leg, she turned her attention back to her dinner. We were so comfortable together, in her warm stall with the golden glow of the lights and the reassuring sound of horses munching hay. It made me happy.

It was such a contrast to the way that Siete acted a couple of years ago, when she had Lyme disease and it took two people to get her to take her medicine. Now, I can syringe anything into her all by myself without any problem. The consistent routines of feeding, filling water buckets and caring for my little horse over all these years have shown her that I do have her best interests at heart, and last night, I finally felt that she really trusts me.

It may not seem like a milestone to most people, but it was a very gratifying moment for me. These small victories in the barn can really make your day.

In the Storm

2010-02-10T10:48:00.009-05:00

Every thing has come to a standstill around us today. Anticipating the worst, with dire predictions of blizzards, power outages and mountains of snow, most of the powers-that-be on the East Coast cancelled every type of activity they can think of until this storm passes through. So, my daughter is home from school. There’s total silence outside, no cars going by or even snowplows yet.

I got up as usual, fed the horses and opened the barn up so they could wander back and forth between the corral and their stalls. Siete is standing in the snow with a small drift piling up on her back on her blanket, happy as a little kid. Silk hasn’t ventured from her stall. One gift for them is that the hay I picked up on last Sunday is exceptionally good. No one is complaining about not being able to get out and run around today. Their mouths are too full.

You’ve probably noticed that I haven’t been blogging as much recently. Not to get into the details, but my 95 year old mother, who lives with us, has become increasingly agitated and depressed. The world inside her head is scary, and she can’t believe that it’s not the same world that the rest of us live in. She’s deaf and refuses to wear her hearing aids. She’s got macular degenerative disease and is now legally blind. I'm not one of those people who likes to chronicle the emotional details of my life on my blog. Yet, I realize that things have gotten to a point where I feel the need to explain why some days, I just don't have it in me to write anything. My mom is a very different person than she was a few months ago. It’s changed my life and challenged me in more ways than I can ever explain. The horses don’t get too much of my attention these days. When I go to the barn, it is a much-needed respite.

I’ve been looking for guidance all over the place. Pema Chodron writes about the practice of “compassionate abiding”. As you breathe, you acknowledge the difficult, uncomfortable feelings and give them space to be there, “ventilating” around them without trying to remove them. Of course, it reminded me of Silk. She helps me find a way “to be with what is” like no one else can. I stand with her in the stall and clear my mind when things get to be too much inside the house. I know that this too shall pass, and I’ve given up trying to pretend that it’s not happening. I’m very lucky to have my family, friends and animals to help me ride these uncharted trails.

“The peace that we are looking for is not peace that crumbles as soon as there is difficulty or chaos. Whether we’re seeking inner peace or global peace or a combination of the two, the way to experience it is to build on the foundation of unconditional openness to all that arises. Peace isn’t an experience free of challenges, free of rough and smooth—it’s an experience that’s expansive enough to include all that arises without feeling threatened.”

Pema Chodron

Dreaming of California and Other Exotic Places

2010-01-29T18:10:00.004-05:00

My fingers were numb when I came in from the barn this evening. The wind chill makes the temperature about five below right now, and we got several inches of snow yesterday. I had a harrowing adventure driving my husband to the airport while this unexpected little blizzard created a snow and ice nightmare Thursday morning. Cars without 4-wheel drive were spinning wildly around the highways. I witnessed at least eight huge accidents, with many cars and trucks, several of which almost hit our sturdy old tank. These are the days that I really love our old Landcruiser, or the Landcrusher, as my husband likes to call it.

I locked the horses inside early today because the wind was howling. I’ll go out later tonight and give them more hay to stoke their furnaces again. The cold is supposed to drag on all weekend, I’m sad to say. So, when I was yanking off my wool socks and my daughter complained that she was hungry, I decided to create a mini-vacation.

I pulled out the avocados and whipped up some guacamole. All those years living in California have made us addicted to Mexican food. I always have tortillas, salsa, cilantro, black beans, avocados and queso in the kitchen, not to mention fresh limes. My friends and neighbors in New England tease me about it, but my husband especially appreciates it. Munching on just one little blue corn chip with some guacamole was enough to boost my spirits and start me California dreaming. I realized that I even had margarita fixings. Things were definitely looking up.

It reminded me of being in my 20’s, living in New York City, working at NBC as a lowly page. Nobody had money for vacations. My friends and I used to go to Trader Vic’s restaurant in the Plaza Hotel and order silly rum drinks with names like “the fog-cutter” or “Maui wowie”. We’d share a platter of Polynesian appetizers and pretend that we were somewhere warm and exotic. Then, we’d tramp outside into the snow and head back to our dumpy tiny apartments. It was all we could afford, but it always did the trick to cheer us up in February.

One bonus for me in all this frigid weather is that the moon is full and every star in the sky is out tonight. And for Silk and Siete, there’s the bonus of carrots before bedtime. It could be worse.

A Way to Connect

2010-01-24T07:54:00.005-05:00

We’re in the middle of the winter doldrums around here. I was realizing that I was just taking care of my horses on auto pilot. The girls have also been bored and follow a routine like old school horses traveling the well worn path. We’ve still got many weeks to go before we can revive our spirits with Spring. I remembered how much fun we had with clicker training several winters ago, so I started poking around for a new project.

Leave it to Carolyn Resnick, a wise and generous horsewoman, to share something really special with everyone during this slow season. She has been teaching her “Uberstreichen Exercises” on her blog. These simple activities can be done in the barn or in a small area and offer new ways to connect with your horse. As simple as they appear to be, they are actually a great way to test how well you are able to communicate with your horse. Ultimately, she believes that they will give you a more positive response and encourage willingness from your horse when you ride.

I decided to give them a try. The first exercise can be done with the horse wearing a halter and standing in a stall. The horse must first be comfortable with you being there and stand quietly on its own. You put your hands on either side of the horse’s head, touching the halter straps, but not grabbing on so your fingers don’t get caught. Carolyn tells us: “Hold the horse’s head straight, breathe deeply, and relax. If the horse turns his head one way or the other gently bring it back to where the horse will tolerate it, then let go slowly and walk away and disconnect. The disconnect is very important to practice. The horse is learning to give and to stay put. He is learning to be responsible without you having to police him. This teaches your horse to stay focused in a hold as well as in a disconnect. Self-carriage of the horse’s gaits can only occur when the horse is free from the rider’s active influence. This exercise starts the journey. Self-carriage creates proper carriage and natural collection.”

It took a while for me to reach the point where Silk and Siete understood what I was asking them to do. They were both attempting to look around just in case they were missing anything else, but finally I could see them decide to humor me and stay focused on what I was asking them to do. So, now I’m going to do this again for a few more days and then attempt to move on to the next exercise. It’s always amazing to me how the simplest action can often be deceptively difficult and can reveal so much about how you approach things in the world. To be quietly determined, without losing my patience and to stay cheerful is a lesson that will serve me well in other aspects of my life.

The other thought that Carolyn shares with everyone is an idea she learned from her father when she was a little girl. Reading what she wrote had a profound effect on me. When she began to train an unruly horse, her dad asked her, “Where would you start that you are not afraid to do with that horse?” From then on, she has always begun training a horse with “what I can do that is safe and that the horse will allow”. Again, it’s a very basic notion, but how often do we try to rush ahead and ask our horses to do too much too soon?

I urge you to visit Carolyn's blog and read the exercises carefully before you try them. They are a real gift and I thank her for her generosity and willingness to share.

It's in the Air

2010-01-16T08:18:00.002-05:00

On Wednesday, a funny thing happened with Silk. I was rushing to take my daughter somewhere after school. It would be dark and later than usual when we returned, so I decided to get the horses into their stalls and feed them before I left. Siete was good as gold, but Silk absolutely refused to go back into the barn.

This is totally the opposite of what normally occurs. Silk stood in the pasture like a statue, defiant. I asked nicely. I fed Siete and walked away. She never moved, although her nostrils flared when she heard dinner dropping into Siete’s bucket. I was exasperated because I was running late, but I stayed calm. The worst case scenario was that I left her there with the stall door open and no dinner until I got back. I really didn’t want to do that since it was icy already, and I knew that she would be upset, which she would undoubtedly express by running around. Since both horses are walking soundly on all four legs, I wanted to prevent any more injuries.

So, I walked out to where Silk was poised and just motioned with my arm for her to go to her stall. She spun and ran in. Good, I thought, that’s done. Then, she came barreling out again, almost knocking me down. She ran back into the pasture and then back inside the stall about six times without stopping. Siete watched with her head hanging out over the Dutch door, looking surprised and curious but not interested in joining her mother. I just stood there trying to figure out what was wrong while my best friend rushed back and forth in front of me, tail up and snorting loudly.

I checked my body language. I wasn’t shaken up or angry. I was tense from rushing, and by now, we were indeed going to be late. I knew my daughter was waiting anxiously in the car. I realized that as I had approached the pasture in the beginning of this incident, my mind had been filled with problems I was having with my mom and with images of the suffering in Haiti. Had Silk picked up on this or was there just something mysterious floating around that was causing those who are extra sensitive to feel rattled ? Silk is definitely tuned to a higher frequency than most of us.

I’ll never know, but I focused all my attention on making everything okay for her. I told myself that it didn’t matter if my daughter was late. I’d take the blame. I let go of everything except helping my horse. When she ran into the stall again, I could tell she was getting tired, and I just stepped in front of the door and blocked it. She dropped her head and relaxed instantly, almost relieved that she had to stop. I rubbed her neck and talked to her for a few seconds, and then closed the stall door. She got her dinner and a flake of hay. I could see that she was tensed again when I filled her water bucket. I told her that I was only going away for a couple of hours and would check on her when I got home. She watched me anxiously, peering over the Dutch door as I walked away. Pulling out of the driveway, I could still see her, eyes following our car until we disappeared. It was unnerving, and I kept wondering if she knew something that I didn’t know.

Both horses were fine when I got back. Silk’s demons were letting her rest. The last few days, I’ve made an extra effort to spend more time around the barn, just cleaning up and fixing things that I haven’t had time to deal with now that we’re having a couple of warmer breaks in this bone chilling weather. I know that I’m hyper-sensitive to Silk, as she is to me, so I’m willing to chalk it up to the change in temperature , or maybe she sensed the presence of some animals in the woods behind the barn. Or perhaps she was just picking up on the intense but unexpressed emotions I was feeling as I watched TV and read the news about this horrible earthquake.

If you are wondering what you can do that will make a difference in Haiti, here’s a group that has been providing medical care, taking care of kids and building hospitals there for a long time. Partners in Health (PIH) is an amazing organization , and they really need our help right now.

The Latest Twist

2010-01-09T08:04:00.005-05:00

On New Year’s Day, the horses were out in the snowy pasture, strolling around just before dinnertime. I went inside for less than a minute to pick up their feed buckets and their hay. When I approached the barn, both of the girls were already waiting eagerly in their stalls. The big problem was that Siete was holding her right front leg up like something was terribly wrong. I had no idea what had happened.

I checked her shoe to see if there was something caught in the snowpad, but couldn’t feel or see anything unusual. I wondered if one of the wood pellets that I had spread in her stall had gotten caught inside her shoe and caused an abscess. I didn’t feel any heat on any of her legs when I touched them. I gave her some Banamine, added extra bedding to her stall so she could lay down and take her weight off for the night. Checking out the corral, I noticed there were some icy ruts that could have caused her to twist her leg.

I was worried, but not panicked. I reminded myself that sometimes these things work themselves out and that if it was an abscess, I could deal with it. We’d have to pull her shoe, which would be a problem in this icy weather, but it was the least bad possiblity of the things that could be causing the lameness. I started to think about other causes, but forced myself to not jump to conclusions.

Saturday, she was still favoring the right leg, but able to stand on it. More Banamine, and I alerted my farrier just in case. We made a tentative date for Monday morning. Sunday, Siete seemed fine, walking normally, so I stopped giving her the meds and cancelled the farrier appointment. Then, Monday afternoon, she began holding her back right foot up as if she had an abscess, and she seemed sore on the front right again. This wasn’t going to magically disappear, so I called the farrier and arranged for him to come Tuesday morning. I soaked the back foot in Epsom salts and warm water and put on a pack with Animalintex for the night.

Next morning, the farrier couldn’t find anything wrong with her hooves. He pulled her front shoe, but there were no abscesses on any of her feet. He used the hoof testers and everything was fine, thank heavens. Siete was really limping on her front right leg, and he did notice some tenderness and a little swelling on the back of that leg. He wondered if she had bowed a tendon or maybe twisted her suspensory ligament. The thought of that sent chills up my spine. I remembered about eight years ago when Silk injured her suspensory ligament and was confined to her stall and only allowed to walk slowly for six months. It was a nightmare. I gave Siete some more Banamine and tried to stay calm.

I headed over to the vet’s office to pick up another tube of Banamine and luckily ran into the vet herself. She told me that lots of horses were injuring themselves in this ice and snow. We agreed to just keep Siete quiet, give her two small doses of Banamine in the morning and at night for a few days and see how she felt on Friday.

I am happy to report that Siete was walking solidly on all four feet by Friday, and getting a bit wound up from all that stall rest. The tenderness and swelling have gone down. So, yesterday, I opened the gate to the pasture and we had some supervised wandering around time. I know I took a chance and fortunately, everything was okay. What I’ve learned is that the horses don’t want to venture out too far in the snow, but they stay calm and happy if they see the gate between the corral and the pasture is open. They know that they have the option to go there, and that it’s their choice. It keeps them from charging around.

So, let’s hope I didn’t jinx anything by telling you that Siete is doing better. Only eleven more weeks until Spring, and it can’t come soon enough!

Finding Happiness

2009-12-30T08:18:00.004-05:00

I got up earlier than usual this morning because I was worrying about the horses in this crazy cold weather. When I checked the temperature, it was 8 degrees in the barn with a wind chill that made it -4. I trudged out an hour sooner than normal to give them breakfast with extra hay. I’m mostly concerned about my dear old lady, Silk. When I took her blanket off on Sunday during our brief heat wave, she had obviously lost some weight. I researched cold weather and aging horses and have begun adjusting her diet, adding some beet pulp and extra hay.

While I was filling their buckets with warm water, I reflected on how this past year has consistently presented daily tests and difficulties beyond those I normally face. Then, I realized that this last decade has also been just one great challenge after another, not only for me but for everyone in this country. The actions of others, whether they are blowing up the World Trade Towers or offering bad mortgages that cause the banks to fail, impacted most of us in dramatic way s that we were unable to control or change. And it wasn’t our fault, so it made us angry and for some people, full of hate. I also thought about how sometimes over the past ten years, I’ve gotten involved in other family members’ life lessons and found myself wondering why the heck this is happening to me when it’s really their problem. I’ve come to understand that those moments are the ones that help build compassion and forgiveness, and I’ve learned that vulnerability can be a door to finding great strength. Those are pretty heavy thoughts for six o’clock in the morning.

Now that I’m back in the house, comforted by another cup of hot coffee, I’ve been thinking about an excerpt that I read from Linda Kohanov’s latest book that’s still a work in progress. She realized that her horses were “not so much tutoring as tuning me, helping me over time to hold a more balanced frequency. Like Zen masters, these exquisitely mindful creatures helped me navigate paradox with increasing facility. They even held the key to dealing with emotion effectively, and it didn’t involve suppression or expression.”

I owe so much to Silk for “tuning me to a more balanced frequency”, so it’s a small gesture of gratitude that I went out twice last night and got up extra early to give her more hay in an effort to keep her old bones warm. I do what I can do to keep my horses happy, and I am aware of how important happiness is to leading a healthy, balanced life.

In an increasingly important effort to create more happiness, I’ve just discovered Matthieu Ricard, a French cell geneticist who became a Buddhist monk. He lives in the Himalayas, takes beautiful photographs, cares for people who need help and writes about happiness. He believes that to understand what it takes to be happy, we must first look at why we’re not. “As influential as external conditions may be, suffering, like well-being, is essentially an interior state. Understanding that is the key prerequisite to a life worth living. What mental conditions will sap our joie de vivre, and which will nourish it?”

Ricard says, “The search for happiness is not about looking at life through rose-colored glasses or blinding oneself to the pain and imperfections of the world. Nor is happiness a state of exaltation to be perpetuated at all costs; it is the purging of mental toxins such as hatred and obsession that literally poison the mind. It is also about learning how to put things in perspective and reduce the gap between appearances and reality… In its deepest sense, suffering is intimately linked to a misapprehension of the nature of reality.”

This sharp cold spell is once again Mother Nature’s way of reminding me that I can’t control everything. In trying to control, we are closing our eyes to what is possible. Just as Silk and Siete accept and adapt to what is going on without worrying about what will happen tomorrow, I must learn to trust that I can handle what is placed before me . Following instinct and intuition the way my horses do, I will let my spirit guide me to a warmer, happier place.

Snow, Snow Go Away

2009-12-27T20:15:00.004-05:00

Last Sunday, I was shoveling 10 inches of snow bundled up against freezing winds and temperatures in the teens. Now, only a week later, it is sunny and 50 degrees outside. And instead of shoveling snow, I spent the day shoveling poop soup because all the rain we got last night flooded Silk’s stall. What’s up, Mother Nature?

The horses didn’t know how to take it. Silk was most disturbed by the disgusting brown lake in her stall. Luckily, I was able to take off the girls’ blankets, so the warm sun helped cheer her up. Siete enjoyed exploring the pasture with grass not snow. I could tell she was a little confused about why there wasn’t any more cold white stuff, but there were a few tasty blades to be found out there.

I was too warm , wearing a t-shirt, lifting heavy buckets full of the above mentioned yuck, and dumping over 100 pounds of wood pellets into the barn. Standing back to admire the clean, dry stall, I couldn’t help but be amazed by Mother Nature’s gift of the Spring-like weather. Of course, they are predicting more snow tomorrow, with the temperature dropping back to 20 degrees during the day and 10 degrees at night on Tuesday.

It made me think about how we just can’t control everything. I could have been angry and upset when I looked at all the water in the corral and in Silk’s stall this morning, but I consciously chose not to be. Now, with aching arms and back, I’m looking at the forecast and it’s astonishing to think that we’re in for such an abrupt change yet again. I guess that 2009 is going to continue to be a wild ride right up to the end.

MERRY CHRISTMAS!

2009-12-24T21:12:00.002-05:00

Silk, Siete and I wish you all the very Merriest of Holidays! We’re chowing down, enjoying the delights of family, friends and some of the nicest hay anyone has ever seen (a present from our hay man who knows how to win a horse’s heart).

Hope you have a wonderful time!

Happy Winter Solstice!

2009-12-21T20:47:00.003-05:00

Today was not only the shortest day of the year, but also one of the coldest we’ve had around here this winter. The wind blew in these big bitter gusts, sending snow whipping around. The horses didn’t let that stop them from spending some time playing in the drifts and getting some exercise after being stuck in the barn all day yesterday.

One thing that makes this solstice especially interesting to me is that there are two full moons this month. The second one is a rare blue moon coming up on Dec. 31st, which seems like it should have some significance since we’re beginning not just a new year but a new decade as it travels across the sky.

Hopefully, it will bring a more positive, generous spirit to the year ahead. My favorite quote from the essays in “What Matters Most” was this one:

“If we listen only to those who are like us, we will squander the great opportunity before us: To live peacefully in a world of unresolved differences.”
David Weinberger, Harvard Beekman Center for Internet and Society

What Matters Now

2009-12-15T17:46:00.006-05:00

I got a great, free gift today, and I want to share it with you. There’s a new ebook that was created by Seth Godin called “What Matters Now”. It’s an amazing, generous effort that is 82 pages of provocative, inspiring short essays.

“Here are more than seventy big thinkers, each sharing an idea for you to think about as we head into the new year. From bestselling author Elizabeth Gilbert to brilliant tech thinker Kevin Kelly, from publisher Tim O’Reilly to radio host Dave Ramsey, there are some important people riffing about important ideas here.”

“Now, more than ever, we need to shake things up. Now, more than ever, we need a different way of thinking, a useful way to focus and the energy to turn the game around.”

They talk about fear, dignity, meaning, ease, strengths, technology, enough, (dis)trust and sleep, among other thought stimulating topics. The goal is to spread ‘What Matters Now” to over 5 million people around the globe. So, check it out, enjoy and send it along as one of the best free gifts of the season. Thanks to Seth and everyone who contributed to this creative effort!

It may not be written with horse people in mind, but in my mind, everything connects back to my horses.

sethgodin.typepad.com/seths_blog/2009/12/what-matters-now-get-the-free-ebook.html

Who Ordered This Mess?

2009-12-14T15:29:00.004-05:00

I just came in from the barn to give my aching arms a break. Siete was asking for more snow, fluffy this time, please. Silk wants to go back to California NOW. She’s wishing I knew how to teleport us there. Okay, it’s not as cold as it is in Wisconsin or Montana or Maine, but it’s only mid-December, and we’ve already hit the complaint department button several times this week.

First, there was snow topped with the inch of rain that created lakes in the corral and the pasture when it fell on the four inches of snow. Then, with temps in the teens for several nights, all that water turned everything into a skating rink. When it began to warm up yesterday, we had a disgusting flooding mess. In a moment of desperation, I dumped some bags of wood pellets into the corral so no one would break a leg. It worked well until we got more rain last night. Now, I’ve been trying to dig ditches to get the water out but there are chunks of ice blocking the drainage.

This is the first winter that we’ve had the gate between the barn and the pasture. Both horses were hovering around it after the first snow, eyeing the vast pristine white blanket on the other side. Since they have their snowshoes on, I decided to risk the icy patches out there and managed to pull it open. It’s your choice, ladies, I told them, but be careful. Siete charged right out and scampered around in a couple of big circles. Silk looked at me like I was out of my mind and headed back to her stall. Right away, Siete wanted to come back in, but the drainage ditch was full of frozen chunks. She stood there waiting to see if I was going to come to the rescue. When I didn’t, she remembered that even though she’s a western cow horse, she can jump. With one pretty little leap, she crossed the ditch and ran into the stall with her mother.

By today, they were both ready to explore the far corners of the pasture to see if there was any grass worth eating under the snow. As soon as I walked out with feed buckets in my hand, they took off and Silk demonstrated the proper way to deal with the ditch. How many days until Spring?

Here It Comes Again

2009-12-06T07:39:00.004-05:00

I’m feeling pretty smug today. We got our first snow, and unlike last year, the horses had their borium cleated snowshoes put on a full five days ahead of it. I waited until mid-December last winter and it snowed so hard that the farrier couldn’t make it out here. Then, each time we re-scheduled, it was like a guarantee that we’d get another blizzard. The girls didn’t get their shoes until the end of January and we had to slip slide down to the icy driveway because it was too socked in to drive up to the barn. I learned my lesson, yes sir.
After watching Siete run and fall one winter, I am a firm believer in this added protection.

I also planned ahead and bought myself a new pair of YakTrax. These stretchy rubber grippers fit over the bottoms of any boot and are my own equivalent of borium shoes. I wore out the first pair. They just disintegrated after four years of heavy use. So, it was a pleasure to pull on my new “pro” model Yaks which have an extra strap to secure across your toes for heavy trekking.

There’s a good layer of ice and some really disgusting soupy mud under this pristine cover of white, so don’t be fooled by the pretty picture.

By the way, my daughter and I ventured down to New York City despite the bad weather yesterday to a Director’s Guild screening of “The Princess and the Frog”, the latest Disney movie set in New Orleans. It’s delightful, so if you have kids, check it out. The projection and the sound were incredible, which highlighted how bad my local theatres are. The animation is hand drawn, and the colors are gorgeous. Great music too by Randy Newman. It’s a winner.

HAPPY THANKSGIVING!

2009-11-26T05:27:00.000-05:00

I am so fortunate to have all of you wonderful friends around the world, and on this Thanksgiving, I would like to send you an Irish blessing that we share in our house:

May you have
lucky stars above you,
sunshine on your way,
many friends to love you,
joy in work and play,
laughter to outweigh each care,
in your heart a song,
and gladness waiting everywhere,
all your whole life long.

Wishing you a relaxing, happy and peaceful day!

Thoughts on the Day Before

2009-11-25T17:15:00.004-05:00

I was late getting out to the barn this morning, distracted by my to-do list of remaining shopping for Thanksgiving dinner and by the muffins in the oven. My daughter made a request for them last night as she crawled into her bed. Since she doesn’t have school today, I decided to give her a treat and start the holiday baking early. I’m always double-parked these days, racing from one task to the next while my mind is full of all the things that I still need to do and won’t get to in these 24 hours.

So, I was expecting to find grumpy, hungry horses. Instead, two sweet faces eagerly greeted me as I dumped the feed in their buckets. It made me stop and realize that during the past month, when I’ve been too busy to give my girls the attention that they need, they’ve been so good. They don’t act bored or naughty. They haven’t injured themselves or gotten sick. They brighten my stressed-out, over burdened, weary brain every time I take a moment to be with them. Looking back on this challenging year, I am so grateful that we all are still here, doing what we did last November.

There are some differences. For the first time, we won’t be having any visiting family or friends at our table tomorrow. Some friends who have become like family and live around the corner will stop by after dinner. Part of me will miss the festivities of a larger crowd, but it’s also a relief not to have to deal with all the temperaments and quirks that often accompany Thanksgiving guests. We will still have the battles of will that accompany any holiday meal in my house since my mother, at age 95, grows more and more insistent that she must have her way. Her nickname is “the General”, and she’s used to being the one in charge. It’s interesting that this year, I have had so many people tell me that they re finding it hard to face the drama and the emotional turmoil that can make Thanksgiving through New Year’s Day a long, bumpy ride.

Who would think that arguments over how to make the cranberry sauce and snide remarks about how much weight someone has gained carry so much deeper meaning? One resolution I set this morning, as I drank my coffee while Silk and Siete munched their hay. was to curb any judgments I might be tempted to make tomorrow. I will remind myself that when someone says something to provoke or dig or pick, I will notice the frightened, lost soul who is hiding behind those remarks. I will make light of it or ignore their efforts to spoil a good time. Fortunately, I can always escape to the barn. Two good horses will be glad to see me.

Think Before You Eat

2009-11-21T10:58:00.007-05:00

You haven’t heard from me for a while because I’ve been deeply immersed in the complicated world of food distribution and how to change the food system. Through making videos for a non-profit organization called Red Tomato that helps family farms get their produce to market, I've been spending a lot of time these days thinking about what we eat.

One of the impressive things that I’ve learned is that we have incredible power as consumers. I’ve heard produce supervisors at big grocery chains say that the reason they carry more local and organic food is because people like you and me prefer to buy it. They aren’t concerned with whether it’s healthier or better for the environment, they’re looking at their profits. In the last ten years, there’s been a growing awareness about the problems with what we eat and how we eat it. Filling ourselves with processed food, as well as whole foods that are full of pesticides and antibiotics, has any number of scary effects on our bodies. People are gradually beginning to wise up to what we're being sold and demand something better.

When I moved here five years ago, one of my neighbors used to make no bones about it that she thought that I was an elite food snob, being extravagant and downright crazy to buy organic whole foods. The other day, she stopped me to say that since her mom and nephew were put on a gluten-free diet to try to solve their health problems, they have felt great and stopped taking all the medication they had previously been given. She told me that she’s sorry she thought I was nuts for being so particular about what I fed my family and has really begun to buy different types of food when she shops.

As I started my shopping for our Thanksgiving dinner this year, I noticed a change in what was piled up at the ends of the aisles in the grocery store. I found cans of organic pumpkin on sale. I saw more free range turkeys next to the hormone and antibiotic filled ones. I began to really think about what some of the great, sentimental recipes that I cook each Thanksgiving contain that might be harmful. I realized that I could substitute other healthier ingredients and not lose the taste or the tradition that everyone at my table loves.

So, there is something that we can do every day to improve the food system and our own well-being. We can think before we eat. We can buy items in the store that aren’t shipped across the country or from overseas and eat food that is grown in season and locally. We can choose what is grown without chemicals and hormones and antibiotics. We can look on the labels to see if there is MSG hidden in our cans of soup or trans fats in our bakery goods. We can make healthier choices. It might taste different, but it also tastes better. There’s incredible flavor and real enjoyment in every bite.

“Eating with the fullest pleasure - pleasure, that is, that does not depend on ignorance - is perhaps the profoundest enactment of our connection with the world. In this pleasure we experience and celebrate our dependence and our gratitude, for we are living from mystery, from creatures we did not make and powers we cannot comprehend. “
Wendell Berry

If you'd like to see the video that we just finished for Red Tomato, please go to blip.tv and enter The Red Tomato Story in the search box. It should get you there.

Early Dark

2009-11-06T08:01:00.005-05:00

When I went out to the barn last night at 6 pm, it was pitch black. There’s something about feeding the horses in the dark that is always unsettling. Now that it’s light in the morning, the dread I feel has shifted with the time change to their dinner hour. Once I’ve turned on the lights and started bustling around in the barn, I don’t mind it. The fear is in that moment of leaving the warm glow of my house and heading out into the total darkness. I sometimes feel like a little kid who is afraid something is going to jump out and get me. I know that’s ridiculous, so recently I’ve been exploring what makes me react this way.

It was probably no coincidence that a friend of mine lent me one of her favorite books this week. It’s called “True Nature” by Barbara Bash, and it’s really a gem. Barbara records, in beautiful drawings and watercolors and handwritten pages, four retreats that she goes on alone at a cabin in the Adirondacks. She is there for one week during each season of the year. It is such an honest and thought-provoking book. One of the big issues that she confronts is her fear of going into the dark woods at night.

“Being here by myself feels like a pause, a break in a pattern. The habitual knitting together of schedules and demands is beginning to unravel. The tight secure knots of my life loosening, relaxing. And then, that raw aloneness rushes in, and with it, the impulse to turn away, run back home.”

I was thinking about the years that I spent living alone, and the nights I woke up, scared by who knows what. When I lived in Los Angeles, in the Hollywood Hills, sometimes the police helicopters would suddenly erupt through the black silence with the beams of their searchlights and the sharp noise of their blades. It was impossible to settle back into a relaxed sleep after that, and I’d sit up running through all the problems and worst-case scenarios in my life until the sun came up. When I got my big yellow dog, Cosmo, back in those lonely LA days, I re-discovered the great consolation I find in the presence of animals, and I continue to appreciate their ability to calm me.

So, I should have guessed that Silk would be sending me a message about my anxiety. As I turned on the lights in the barn and opened her stall door last night, in my head, I heard this very clear voice telling me, “When you take care of your horses, you are taking care of yourself.” I realized that last winter, this same lack of being able to see clearly in the night had felt soft and mysteriously re-assuring to me. The silence, the stars and the moon and the sounds of the horses were all gifts that I looked forward to since my life back then was on more settled ground. Right now, in so many aspects of my day-to-day existence, I feel like I’m never sure what’s going to happen next.

In Barbara Bash’s book, she quotes Pema Chodron: “Exercise your willingness to rest in the uncertainty of the present moment over and over again.” Going into the dark each night is a concrete way for me to do that. The point at which I am able to welcome the uncertainty instead of fear it will be a big step towards taking better care of myself. I joke that feeding the horses is a sacred ritual for me, but in fact, it might also be the path that leads me through these un-nerving times.

For the Sake of the Horse

2009-11-01T20:16:00.007-05:00

I wonder if you’ve been following the excellent posts from Billie at Camera Obscura about the Rollkur issue and a video that was shot by Epona TV of dressage rider Patrik Kittel. If you haven’t, please check out Billie’s thorough, thoughtful coverage of this tragic situation that is occurring in the dressage world and follow the links to sign the petitions to the FEI to stop this inhumane treatment of horses. Thank you, Billie, for providing us with all the information we need to make an educated effort to try to help right a serious wrong.

Briefly, Rollkur is a training technique used by some dressage riders that creates hyper-flexion of the horse’s neck. It is supposed to teach the horse to lower its head and round its neck as it works. In some cases, the horse’s mouth touches the middle of its chest, and this state of hyper-flexion is held for over ten minutes. The video shows the horse that Kittel is riding sticking out its tongue, which has turned blue, an indication that the blood flow has been cut off. The Federation Equestre Internationale is the sole controlling authority for all international events governing Dressage, Driving, Endurance, Eventing, Jumping, Reining, and Vaulting. It establishes the rules for the Olympics, as well as Championships, Regional and Continental Games. In 2006, the FEI decided that it would allow the use of hyper-flexion by experienced riders. Now, they are reconsidering their position. Anything that we can do to convince them that Rollkur should be banned is needed at this critical moment.

I realized that I am quite sensitive to this issue because of the abuse Silk suffered before I bought her. This kind of extreme treatment exists in many disciplines of riding. As a Western Pleasure horse, Silk had the misfortune to be ridden by a man who was relentlessly aggressive in training her to bend her neck and put extreme pressure on her mouth with the bit. It is amazing to me that she forgave humans for what they did to her, and that she is my loving and willing partner today.

I went out to the barn after reading the links that Billie posted and watching the video. If the neighbors had heard me, they would have thought that I was crazy, but I told Silk the whole sad story. She just kept eating her hay, with one ear turned in my direction. I said that we would keep trying to make life better for horses, and that over 4000 people had already signed petitions protesting to the FEI. Years ago, I promised Silk that no one would ever hurt her again, and I am sorry that so many other horses continue to be abused by people under the guise of “training”. I know she listened to me.

Billie quoted Paul Belasik's “A Search for Collection - Science and Art in Riding”, and what he said had such an impact on me that I can’t stop thinking about it. I feel compelled to quote it again here:

"The reason why you can’t pull a horse’s head down to his knees and hold it there day after day, hour after hour, is the same reason why you can’t pull a man’s head down to his knees and hold it there. The reason is that it is demeaning to the ...dignity of the horse or man. It is an ethical, philosophical problem, as well as a scientific one. When you act this way toward a horse with this unprovoked, irrational and unrelenting constant aggression, you demean everything: the horse, nature, yourself, the art and the observer. In the wild, no horse would accept this demonic control. Leaders lead because they prove they have the capacity to lead, and they are good at it. The whole herd has a better life. If the leaders choose badly… they will be replaced."

Three Breaths

2009-10-25T08:02:00.006-04:00

It rained and rained yesterday. Then, it rained some more. The horses chose to stay in the barn all day. Siete was like a kid who was bored and looking for trouble. I never bothered to put the halters on or open the gate to the pasture. I would wait until it stopped raining for a few minutes to run out to give the girls more hay. Each time I did, another deluge would begin just as I got to their stalls, and I would end up soaking wet by the time I got back to the house.

So, on the third time that the skies opened up on me, I decided to just hang out with the horses and pick their feet. Silk was glad for my company, as usual. She’s been really anxious the last couple of days, staring into the woods like there’s something out there that might try to get her. I can’t see anything, but she’s acted like this before. I know it will pass eventually, and for now, I just try to give her a little extra attention to reassure her that everything is okay.

Siete let me pick out her front left foot, but as I reached for the front right, she grabbed my jacket and tried to bite me. I threw my arms up over my head, said “Quit!” in my deepest most I-mean-it-no-kidding voice, and stepped into her space, making her back up. She put her head down, but she was still thinking about challenging me.

That’s the point at which I tried something I’d read about called “The Three Breaths Practice”. Ezra Bayda, a Buddhist meditation teacher from San Diego, writes about it in his book, “Zen Heart”. It’s very simple. When something goes wrong, you simply stop, and for three breaths, stay completely present in the moment. You feel what your body is doing, not changing anything, just bringing your awareness to the overall feeling of being in this place at this exact time.

He points out that often, the resistance we are feeling and trying to avoid is making our difficult experiences even more difficult. Sometimes, what we are resisting are only deeply entrenched thoughts and strong physical reactions."The more often we enter into and feel these moments of discomfort, the more we understand that it’s more painful to push away the experience than it is to actually feel it.” Bayda explains.

So, I took my three breaths, while Siete pinned her ears and stood braced for what I was going to do next. And by the end of the third breath, I felt different. My mind wasn’t racing through all the options of what I should do to punish her for trying to bite me, and freaking out about whether this was a big new behavior problem that was only going to get worse. I noticed that my body was way too tense, so before breath number three, I loosened everything up. Then, I just stepped over and picked up her hoof and cleaned it like I normally would. Everything inside me was calm and yet alert, observing what would happen next. Nothing happened. Siete stood watching me until I left the stall, and she started eating her hay. Walking away, I made sure I didn’t take the incident with me and chew on it. I just let it go.

This morning, I asked Siete to step back and wait while I put the flake of hay in her stall. When I told her it was okay to eat, she came forward with her head lowered, not the least bit aggressive. I thought about how we all have our grumpy moments where we lash out, only people usually use their words and tone of voice. I resolved to try this three breaths thing again next time one of my two-legged family members gets mad at me. If I snap back out of fear or frustration or a need to control, it only escalates. If I don’t instantly react, it creates a space that allows each of us an opportunity to consider the consequences. Even though she doesn’t actually live inside my house, Siete is doing a pretty good job of mirroring and leading me through some relevant life lessons.

Lighting the Night With Hope

2009-10-19T08:29:00.001-04:00

I have some new heroes. For two nights this week, my husband and I videotaped the Leukemia-Lymphoma Society’s “Light the Night” walk in Manhattan and Queens to raise money for a cure and treatment of blood cancer. At the South Street Seaport, in pouring rain, thousands of people turned out to walk on the Brooklyn Bridge and show their support. I was soaked to the bone, but it was worth it. What an inspiring sight! Saturday night, we were in Forest Park, Queens, with another huge group carrying balloons with little lights inside. Red balloons for supporters, white balloons for survivors and gold balloons in memory for those who have died. It’s very moving to look at these enormous rivers of people, holding their balloons high, carrying banners that honor their loved ones and tell their stories.

One man, whose daughter is in her 20’s and has leukemia, told me that despite the Recession, more people gave money this year than in all the eight years that his family have been participating in this walk. They say that every step saves lives. It also reminds me of the generosity and compassion we have for each other.

I’ve been watching the news these past few months, seeing large groups of disgruntled Americans protesting various things. It struck me that being in a crowd of people who were filled with love and courage and hope is a great antidote to all that negativity boiling around us. It puts everything in perspective.

Centering

2009-10-11T07:40:00.004-04:00

I was just standing outside as the sun was rising, listening to the horses munch their breakfast and appreciating a V of geese that honked their way across the sky. This morning is the first truly cold frost that we’ve had. It’s so clear and quiet except for the sound of the rooster crowing, the geese calling to one another and the girls chewing contentedly. I felt very centered.

Late last night, I spoke to an old friend who lives in Los Angeles. We had lost touch for about ten years, and I’m so happy that she tracked me down again. We immediately fell into a comfortable conversation catching up so that it seemed like it was only ten days ago that we spoke, not ten years. It gave me cause to reflect on how many changes I’ve been through since those days when we would walk our dogs together in the Hollywood Hills every evening. I had only one animal and one man in my life at that time. Now, my world is full of family and creatures that sometimes seem to all need my attention every waking minute. It makes it harder to stay balanced and remember what it takes to be true to myself.

I thought about a moment of chaos that happened yesterday as the sun was setting. My daughter was having a teenage meltdown in the house because the computer wasn’t printing out her science project correctly. My husband was thousands of miles away in an airport, having missed a very important connecting flight, so the airline was sending him in the completely opposite direction to a different city in hopes of connecting there to a new flight that could get him to where he needs to be today. My mother was stressing out because she was hungry, and I wasn’t even close to making dinner for us. And the horses’ stalls had never been mucked because I’d been too busy all day to get to it.

To get some space and fresh air, I left the humans to fend for themselves and headed to the barn. Instead of feeding the horses and tucking them in for the night, I turned them out. Silk stood by the pasture gate, patiently waiting for me to let her back inside. Siete freaked out and exploded, bucking and squealing and giving voice and motion to all the frustrated, chaotic energy that was swirling around me. It was such a perfect visual for what I’d been feeling that I had to stop and laugh.

In that moment, I remembered something I read from author Lynn Andrews: “All of the distractions and pandemonium of your life are of your own choosing.”

Then, I also thought of a quote I saw earlier from Cesar Millan, the dog whisperer. He was talking about dogs, but it could have been horses: “They accept you as who you are - one leg, two legs, no eyes, no problem,” he says, “But they won’t accept unstable energy. That’s how much integrity they have.”

Thanks, Siete, for once again, bringing me back down to earth.

Game of the Week

2009-10-02T11:45:00.002-04:00

We’ve got a new team sport going on in our yard. It’s the Wild Turkeys vs. the Chickens. The front lawn is the playing field.

You may recall from an earlier post this summer that a white rooster, known around here as the Chief, is the Quarterback for the chickens who live across the road. Our yard is their “free range”, and my mother feeds them liberally with all our leftover chips and bagels and grain products. Starting last fall, the wild turkeys discovered our property, and the mother birds enjoy trooping around like Girl Scout leaders with babies of all sizes. They teach them to sit on the fence rails and find goodies in our garden and sleep in the hidden island of our forsythia bushes. This year, they’ve got a new leader, Big Mama, and she is going to give those chickens a run for their chips and bagels.

The wild turkeys are very bold. They come right next to me when I weed the garden without any fear. When the horses are in the pasture, all the turkeys, including the smallest babies, march right around them like they own the place. On sunny days, the ladies like to roost on our fences and work on their tans.

The chickens are not pleased. Since Big Mama and her band are much larger than even the Chief, the skirmishes are few and quick. The turkeys chase them across the front yard, return to their position by the big pine tree and then, the chickens gradually peck their way back to the center of the field. As soon as the turkeys realize that their opponents have gained ground, they race towards them, pushing the chickens back towards the road. Silk and Siete are the official umpires, but if there’s a new flake of hay dropped in the pasture, they let the game run wild while they chow down. Our two cats provide play-by-play coverage, running back and forth between the windows inside the house with their teeth positively chattering with excitement. It keeps my mother entertained endlessly, which is such a good thing.

I’m wondering if ESPN would be interested.

Intention Instead of Outcome

2009-09-22T12:14:00.004-04:00

Today is the Fall Equinox, a time when we harvest what we’ve raised and yet experience the death of green all around us. I’m having mixed emotions, so I turned to some of my spirit guides for advice.

First, I checked in with one of my favorite wise women, Sandra Ingerman. She suggests:
“This time of year is a great time to let drop from you what is no longer needed to return to the earth to be composted creating new life. For with all types of death – the little deaths we experience through life as well as physical death – something new is reborn from what dies. The cycle of life and death is one unbroken circle…”

She recommends creating a ceremony to release expectations.” I find for some of us letting go of expectations feels like giving up. But what if it is giving up to something better? What if we hold an intention of what we want to experience while at the same time we trust that the way our desires and intentions manifest is greater than what we allowed ourselves to imagine? The key is don’t let go of your intentions and focus. But sometimes we have to let go of the outcome. Try working with this in the time of fall where the plants and trees are giving back to the earth the old so that the new can be born.”

I’ve been expending a lot of energy worrying about the outcome of several things in my life recently, so this idea really hit home for me. While I cleaned the barn today, I took some time to really think about what my expectations were and how they cause pain and self-doubt when I don’t get what I want. If the outcome isn’t something I can control, than there’s no point in trying to hold on to it. It’s kind of like the maple tree that I was standing under. Even though the weather is still warm, its leaves are turning brown and falling faster and sooner than usual this year. Maybe Sandra Ingerman is right: My soul and the soul of the world is working to give me greater gifts than I can imagine.

It reminded me of Mary Oliver’s poem, “Song For Autumn”:
“In the deep fall
don't you imagine the leaves think how
comfortable it will be to touch
the earth instead of the
nothingness of air and the endless
freshets of wind? And don't you think
the trees themselves, especially those with mossy,
warm caves, begin to think
of the birds that will come - six, a dozen - to sleep
inside their bodies?”

And thinking of that eloquent wisdom stirred up my sense of anticipation of all the enjoyable activities that will come with colder weather and shorter days. After all, with each ending comes a new beginning.

A Much Needed Break

2009-09-19T07:31:00.002-04:00

I’ve been working too hard. This past month, I’ve been juggling three projects, getting my daughter settled into her routine at school and trying to adjust to the shifting realities of my mother’s deteriorating mental state. It’s meant there’s less time to blog, no time to stare into space and do nothing, and even when I did try to relax and read a book, the worries of my work wouldn’t step back and give me a break. One thing that brings me back to myself, no matter how busy I get is that there are two horses in the barn who need my attention every morning and every night.

Yesterday, everything paused and I was able to go through my day with an astonishing sense of leisure. Don’t ask me why. Maybe the planets and my schedules just aligned for a brief bit of breathing room. At first, as I turned out the horses, taking time to let each of them graze on the last bits of soft green grass between the barn and the pasture, I felt like I was forgetting to do something. Then, as I mucked Silk’s stall, I realized that I was actually giving my full attention to what I was doing. My mind wasn’t racing around trying to solve problems for several projects and family dramas at the same time. It was like falling free form in space. At first, I was on edge and jumpy, but then I found a gentle floating feeling and relaxed.

I stopped to watch the horses for about five minutes. I gathered up some firewood since it’s gotten cold at night. This morning, there’s nowhere to go and no deadlines to meet. I’m not behind on anything, and it’s a beautiful sunny Saturday. I’m going to groom the horses and fool around and hopefully this afternoon, I can hop on Silk for a while.

Someone called me and asked if we wanted to go to the Big E, a lively state fair in Massachusetts. As much as I enjoy those kind of things, there’s no way anyone is going to get me in a car and on a highway. My idea of the perfect weekend is one that requires as little effort and movement as possible. You’ll find me here --Staying home, hanging with a couple of four-legged girlfriends and chilling out.

Toasters and Horses

2009-09-13T07:06:00.001-04:00

This is a post that has to do with toasters, not horses. Several years ago, we got struck by lightening, and it fried many of the appliances in our house. One of the dearly departed was a reliable old toaster oven that I’d owned for about 20 years. When I went to Target to purchase another one, a shiny red Oster model captured my fancy. It was kind of retro-styled and quite elegant, with a convection oven as well as a regular toaster oven.

I think it was only a couple of slices of bread later that the trouble began. My husband turned on the timer and when it went off, the pieces weren’t toasted yet. So, he twisted the knob and tried to give it a few more minutes. He made the mistake of walking away. When the bell dinged, he came back to his charred bread and began to howl. I should have just returned it then and there. But life was busy, the receipt got misplaced, the toaster looked so good in our kitchen, etc., etc. Now, over four years later, we’re still wrestling with this stupid appliance.

It has a will of its own. I can put in a piece of bread and stand watching it for ten minutes. Yes, it takes FOREVER to toast. Then, the phone rings, my daughter wants me to help her with her hair, I have some momentary distraction. As soon as I turn my back, this toaster seizes the opportunity and blackens the toast. It happens almost every third time, since it takes me about two painfully long sessions of watching bread brown to make me forget and walk away long enough to burn something again.

Now that I describe it, maybe there is a connection here to horses. How many of us have experienced annoying behavior from our horses and just learned to ignore it, get around it or put up with it? I’ve tried over the years not to fall into this trap of not wanting an argument or not admitting there’s a problem. In the beginning, with Silk, I made excuses for her and for myself. It was only when I accepted what was wrong and worked it out with my horse that I was able to lose that nagging feeling of dread and anxiety. The only time I feel that way now is when I’m about to brown a piece of bread.

So, maybe my horses do have something to teach me about dealing with toasters.

New Beginning

2009-09-08T13:53:00.002-04:00

For me, the week after Labor Day always marks the true beginning of a new year. As a student, it brought the start of a new school year. When I lived in New York City, everything seemed exciting and electrified in September. There were new ideas and new films and new projects flying around. It always amazes me that even the weather comes alive overnight, with a crispness and a welcome cooling that allows you to try out the new sweater or jacket you just bought.

This morning, I can see that the horses feel the difference too. They are frisky in the corral, jockeying at the gate for first position as they go into the pasture. When they are set free, they race around in circles, chasing each other and kicking up their heels. I know we’re in for more hot weather and Indian summer, but it’s the beginning of my favorite season.

This year, somehow, it’s strange that autumn doesn’t have the joy that it usually does for me. There’s relief for having made it through August, which was a difficult month. But I’m also waiting for news on several important, anxiety-making projects, and it’s hard to be patient. I’ve turned my attention to the horses while I wait. Even there, I’m monitoring Siete’s back hooves for signs of an abscess. Her soreness comes and goes, so I’m worrying that we might be starting our traditional bout with Lyme Disease. It’s happened at this time of year ever since we’ve moved here. So, September is arriving with uncertainty, not its usual exuberance.

It's led me to think about how carefully one must fan the flames of hope or they will just disappear. I also realize that I rarely focus on the decaying that comes with the end of summer. I’ve been noticing more recently the flowers that are dying and the leaves that already have begun to fall. The tomato season was a bust here this year, with a blight taking most of the bounty from my neighbors’ gardens. So, it feels like special attention must be given to finding the bright side of things.

I’ve been telling Silk and Siete all the good stuff we have to look forward to in the coming weeks. There will be lots of delicious apples. The trails become more accessible as the foliage disappears. We won’t need fly spray, and Silk’s itchiness will be gone. There will be pumpkins and hayrides, and my daughter and her friends are making a big scarecrow for a charity auction. The prediction is that the leaves will put on an extra special burst of color with all the rain we’ve had. So, for now, I’m going to let go of what I can’t control and just try to enjoy the sight of two beautiful red horses playing in the cool morning mist.

Pick Those Feet

2009-08-23T19:44:00.003-04:00

I have a confession to make. I hate to pick out my horses’ feet. It’s messy and my hands always get filthy and it’s how I threw my back out last week. So, it became a real test of self-discipline when I decided this summer that I will pick out their feet every morning and every evening. I want to do everything I can to insure that we don’t have any hoof abscesses after last summer’s drama. I’ve put shoes on their front feet now, which was a really good idea since it gives them more support. I think it takes the weight off their back feet. It also holds the muck in more than bare feet do.

To my surprise, the hoof picking has become a little spiritual practice for me and my girls. At first, Siete wasn’t thrilled about it. Some days, she tolerated it, but others, she pinned her ears - “Oh no, not again with the hoof pick!” And once, she even tried to nip my butt. I let her know right away that this is a reaction that would not be tolerated. Eventually, she started to realize that it feels better not to have all that muddy gunk stuck in her frogs. It amazes me how much gets packed in.

So, while I don’t really feel like doing it most nights, I am always glad that I did once I’ve finished. I sleep better knowing that my horses’ feet aren’t filled up with sticky, muddy goop when I close their stall doors and go to bed. There’s something honorable about sticking to the discipline and not letting it slide, even when my back was aching. Both of the girls welcome the last touch of attention that I give them each night. I find myself lingering to scratch an itchy spot or touch up the fly spray. It’s the four-legged equivalent of tucking my daughter into bed with a goodnight hug.

95 and Still Frisky!

2009-08-17T21:30:00.002-04:00

Today has been a whirlwind around here. It’s my mom’s 95th birthday, and even though she insisted on keeping it low-key, we didn’t pay no mind to that silly notion. Neighbors came by with flowers and candy just after breakfast. I took Nana to get her hair cut in the afternoon. More flowers kept arriving. And for dinner, her favorite Chinese food and a fabulous cake from our local dairy that makes their own sinfully rich ice cream. Not to mention she got lots of presents.

I am fortunate to come from a long line of strong willed, outspoken women. At 95, some of the parts are wearing out, but my mother still thinks that she can do what she could do 50 years ago. In fact, she still does more than a lot of people half her age. Opinionated, frisky and fearless. That’s my mom, and we love her.

PS - I also had the pleasure of eating breakfast with one of my West Coast blogger friends, M.C. Valada from Out of the Darkroom. It’s always fun to meet my buddies face-to-face after all these years of sharing our lives in the blogosphere. A great way to start this busy day!