Over the weekend, Rodney worked farther with less hysteria. Progress. Not enough to celebrate but enough to keep me from wallowing. IF this works, I’m hoping for a Hellen Keller moment wherein he realizes that he is a big, tough horse who can handle whatever dreadful thing the world asks of him. But we may be reinventing the wheel at each step. I’d be still be happy. At least then we would have steps.
Ever had a horse who has had an epiphany?
______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________ Their first burger.
My horse shopping hit a patch of despair and skidded into the Slough of Despond.
First, there was the theory that sitting on a horse, any horse would stop me from psychically imploding.
Thus the idea of a saddeseat lesson. It’s been over 3 weeks since my successful exploratory visits to the barn. The saddleseat lady could not have been nicer or more responsive. Yet, we have been unable to synch our schedules. Things should not be this hard. Cue ominous shark music.
Secondly, Fairy Godmother [HHPR#1] came through and I got totally depressed. If you are marveling that I can get from happy A to dismal B, welcome to my world. I asked for a horse who was talented enough to be interesting but sane enough to relax with. After a week on the job, she found the perfect horse. Enter Tucker, a 9 year old, 16+h, chestnut, Quarter Horse who “not only does good dressage, jumps beautifully, and hacks like a perfect gentleman (alone or in a group), but he hunted three seasons with a 65 year old rider.” In the pictures, he has a cute frame and a wonderfully soft eye. I looked at his spunky yet sensible face and thought, “Meh.”
It’s like watching the swimming dudes on TV. They have have broad shoulders, tapered waists, flat abs, long legs, strong arms, everything you could wish for in a marble statute come to life. But even in college with live specimens, swimmers were never anything I want to take home & have to dust. Crew gods, OTOH, are my idea of the perfect male. One year, the US Lightweight Team was training at my college boathouse. When they walked into the college cafeteria, I’m told I simply stopped talking. But I digress.
So I wallowed a bit wondering what I even wanted. This is about the time when I consider pitching the blog, putting the horses up on blocks, and taking up …. what?
As it so often does, it comes back to Wofford:
“But probably, if I had to pick one thing that I had to hang my hat on, I would want the horse that I was going to buy to have a face that I would enjoy seeing poked over the stall webbing every morning, waiting for breakfast.”
James C. Wofford Training the Three-Day Event Horse and Rider [Doubleday 1995]Photo by Kathie Mautner
Back in the day, I loved borrowing a friend’s unflappable pony (pictured) to go swimming in the creek, or absconding with George to try out the latest horse fad [appearing as my ‘Whatever’ horse in “Just George”, Horse Illustrated, February 2011]. I find no fault with the logic of the folks who voted for my getting a nice, reliable ride [Yin or Yang]. Maybe I should finally be a sensible amateur and buy the horse I ought to be riding rather than the one I want to ride.
As a daily diet, such horses would bore me. To quote from Top Gun, “You’re not gonna be happy unless you’re going Mach 2 with your hair on fire.” Say what you will about Previous Horse or Rodney, you will never use the word boring.
Working with horses is long-term, frustrating, and hard work. Heedless optimism is essential to carry you through the dry patches. I need to find a horse who inspires me to get off the couch and out to the barn. Let Hubby find his own horse. We’d never agree on a joint horse anyway. We are three for three on, “You want to buy THAT?!” In theory, I am still open to all breeds & types. However, the smart money is on a nutcase bay, Thoroughbred gelding. History will not be denied.
Have you ever let sense overrule emotion & had it work out?
Been feeling a bit head vs. wall about the blog, the horse, the horse hunt, pretty much everything recently. Not for any sensible reason, just a lack of traction. Whether you believe in judgment day or the eventual entropic heat-death of the universe, asking ‘why bother’ will eventually drown you in your own personal Total Perspective Vortex. To quiet the chattering monkeys, I retaliate with:
Why not?
or
What the symbol-string else am I going to do with my time? Bleak, but it does successfully pry my butt off the metaphorical couch.
(Another in a series of feeble posts. Hoping to stagger forward until Opening Ceremonies on 7/27/12. If I can’t find inspiration in the Olympics, I will hang up my keyboard.)
___________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________ kitten pile
Day Two of our mysterious activities. Rodney reacted to the previous lesson enough to form an opinion. This time, he was more suspicious beforehand but less jumpy after. He’s learning something. Whether what he is hearing is related to what I am saying remains to be seen.
To calmly note how he choses to respond, rather than go into a tailspin when the cards aren’t all aces, is tough.
At the risk of turning this blog into Ouroboros endlessly swallowing its tail, I must brag that the haiku from my Rolex pontification [Peregrinatio], has been reposted with a new title by Horse Nation. Snaps again to daily posts from Five Reflections for the inspiration to write a haiku about Eventing. The repost is a welcome gracenote lighting the current cloud of petty annoyance in which I wallow.
Annoyance #1: My friends are flooding my Facebook newsfeed with pictures of themselves and their horses doing marvelous things in stadium and on cross-country. I’m happy for them. Really I am. Mostly.
Annoyance #2: Workmen have been at our house all week installing a new HVAC system. It’s no fun to pay strangers oodles of money to install incomprehensible, large metal boxes in one’s house. It’s even less fun when these highly-paid experts are sitting in their truck reading the directions to these fancy new widgets you are buying. Despite my overall disenchantment with my adopted state, I will grudgingly admit that the workmanship is usually impeccable. The workmen (and one woman) who’ve had come to the house have done impressive jobs [Fish/Pond], when I get get them out [HHPR#2]. This week has been the exception. Perhaps the problems were minor and the important bits were installed correctly. The world may never know. Hiring any expert (dentist, farrier, veterinarian) involves an act of trust. So, if they are screwing up the parts you can see, how can you have any confidence in what they are doing to the parts you can’t see & don’t understand? But, I am allowing the miasma to win again.
Name one thing that went well for you today.
____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________ Therapy, aka extrication training. Photos by John Entrekin.
Virtual Brush Box 