Just Breathe

I walk into Nick and Kate’s house and look up the stairs. Right there in front of me is my granddaughter, Collins.

She’s 10 months old now and she brings so much joy into our lives, with just a smile and a hug.

The other day I was babysitting for the kids and decided to take her outside to explore the backyard. Watching her touch the trees with a gentle hand, staring up at the leaves with a look of wonder, seeing her lean into the gentle breeze and turn her face towards it, makes me do the same thing. She can take an ordinary sight and turn it into something I’m “seeing” for the first time.

The bark of the tree has so many dimensions, some of it is rougher and appears peaked like a mountain range, while there are other sections filled with holes and small branches with tiny leaves making their appearance.

I set Collins down on the basketball court and she is fascinated by the black ants scurrying about their business. She tries to touch them, but they’re too fast and her frustration makes me laugh out loud. It startles her, my laughter in the quiet, but then she looks up, her eyes meet mine and they start to twinkle and I see Nick in that moment and she laughs with me.

We move over to the grass and she sees the dandelions. Oh she loves the dandelions, she picks one and I do as well. I touch her cheek with it and she laughs a little because it tickles. I touch her nose with it and I remember being little and playing with dandelions myself. Do you remember them? What they felt like, tasted like, and the yellow that came off of them onto our faces?

Having Collins in my life has been such a great adventure. She is showing me how beautiful the world really is. The miracles of spring, the new life out there, the beauty of the dandelions and the sensation of the warm breeze and sun on my face.

I thank God that He gives us a second chance at living through a child again in our “later” years.

Being a Grandma is such a blessing and I am so grateful at this stage in my life I get to slow down and soak it all in without the worry of a schedule. Collins and I just get to live in the moment as we explore this wonderful world together and it is good, very very good.

There she is, she’s standing there looking at me, her body swaying with tremors, her eyes a bit dull with age, and her hearing, well, it’s almost nonexistent. She’s my dog, she’s my friend, and sometimes she is my baby. She has been by my side for 16 years; she has helped me train unruly horses. She has ridden in the saddle with me, she’s been riding shotgun in the truck since she was just a pup and has even traveled on a plane under the seat in front of me.

She is little but mighty, her heart is the biggest heart I’ve known, her stamina has always matched and surpassed mine, until recently. She stands there swaying, she loses her balance at times, and refuses to eat. I see her and my heart squeezes with pain. I want to grab the days and slow them down, but the harder I try to hold them the faster they seem to slip through my fingers. I know it’s getting closer to the time she will leave. I know that’s why she’s pulling away, she’s helping me say goodbye, to get used to not seeing her trotting next to me as I do chores and looking up at me to see what we’re going to do next. She is starting to prepare to move on, and this time we won’t be together. I don’t know when it will be…. today? tomorrow? a year from now? or could I really possibly get a couple years? I don’t know, but one thing I can tell you is that I would do it all over again. Having her in my life is worth the pain of losing her.

I sometimes wonder if God gave her to me just to show me what unconditional love looks like. We humans are flawed in our ability to love, we add strings, we ask for performance, but she never has, she just loves me for who I am each and every day. I can lay around the house, or clean, or do chores, or even just spend the entire day knitting, she doesn’t care, and doesn’t judge. Her relationship with me reminds me of God. Because like God, she loved me first, for who I am, 100 percent.

She is love, companionship, and security and I am blessed by her.

Well, here it goes. It’s been hard to be positive lately. I don’t know if you all ever struggle with sadness, or hopelessness, or that if you would disappear, no one will even notice, but I sure do. I don’t think I have a hard life; I don’t mean that at all, but there are times when it seems like I’m walking through mud, each footstep is hard, and there is a little voice in my head (sometimes it’s a very big voice) that says, “Why? Why do you do it every single day? Is it really worth it? The same thing, day in and day out….” I hate that voice, it’s the voice that tries to tell me that life here on earth has no point, I mean really, do I even make a difference? I feed horses every day, I clean up after them, I do a little bit of training, and a smattering of lessons here and there. The winter is coming, I hate the winter, the dark and dreary days, the cold that hurts in such a way there is no escape. If I have to take off a glove, my fingers curl into a ball and it’s painful to find the screw I just dropped but need to finish fixing something or another. Winter in Minnesota can be brutal for those of us that work outside.

But…… the sun does come out, it’s stunning on the snow, the glitter takes my breath away and it never seems to feel dark even on the darkest night there is a glimmer of light in the snow and the sunsets are absolutely amazing.

The smell of coffee, the warmth of hot chocolate, or a shot of bourbon can make the cold fall away. The bathtub is filled with hot water, and I can soak my coldness away while sipping a glass of wine and reading a good book.

My friends call, we start knitting together, my body slows down, I take naps when I can and the winter starts to become my friend, it’s a time of slowing down, no pressure for lessons, for training, or anything other than caring for the horses. They let me into their herd, they let me feel their warmth. Their heartbeats settle my panicking heart, their slow breathing makes me take a deep breath. I feel God in that moment, I look up into the cloudless night sky and the stars twinkle down at me and I wonder if the stars that looked over Jesus are looking over me. I feel Jesus in my herd, his leadership and that way he will leave the 99 to come looking for the lost one. I am that lost one. I need Him to hold me in the dark days of winter, and he does. Sometimes it feels hard to find Him, and the challenge for me is to keep it up until I do, because when I do finally find Him, I realize He was the on looking for me.

I check my phone and see I missed a call from my daughter, Danielle. My heart sinks a bit since I know she had a doctor appointment this morning and I have felt for a few weeks now that she’s not doing so well. She’s been tired and I’ve noticed she’s lost weight and sounds congested. The doctors had already started her on an iv antibiotic treatment and took sputum samples to culture. We’ve been waiting 2 weeks to see what organisms she’s growing. So far the tests have been negative, and to a normal person that would be good news. But to a patient with a lung disease such as Cystic Fibrosis it can indicate an insidious, slow growing bacteria such as Cepacia or Mycobacterium Abscessus, also known as MAC.

Today she went to the doctor to see if there is any improvement in her lung function and to decide what to do. You see, she has grown both Cepacia and MAC but if they aren’t causing issues, we don’t treat since the side effects are harmful and the more we treat, the more resistant the organisms get and eventually there won’t be any drugs left to beat down the infections. I’m so afraid that today, the news won’t be good.

I look at my phone as a text comes through from Danielle before I can call her. “I’m now at work but we are starting treatment in a week once results are back. It’ll be two iv antibiotics three times a day and two orals for about 4-6 months. Today I will be sad but I have you all in my corner fighting with me and God! I just want to feel better and beat this thing for good and we will!!!!!!!!!!! Call when you can.”

My stomach clenches, my breath catches in my chest, and my heart races. I call her and she answers. Her attitude is good but tears spring to my eyes. My brain flashes memories of the last time we treated this. The nausea, the weight loss, the severe diarrhea, the exhaustion and her having to hook herself up to med balls every 6 and 8 hours respectively to drip the antibiotics into her veins, and those are just the initial side effects, as she continues she has ringing in her ears, her kidneys and liver start to be affected and then they have to stop her IV treatment and continue with oral drugs that usually are less effective.

I know she hears the tears in my voice and I try to stop them. I smile through the tears but I can’t stop my shaking and the pictures in my mind of what the treatment will do to her, but the alternative is worse, much worse…..

I reassure her that we will help her fight. She has an amazing support system in our family and friends. We will start the prayer chain. She tells me Nick, her brother, talked her off the cliff when I didn’t answer. I’m so grateful they have such a great relationship. Even though he’s married with a newborn baby girl, he answers his sisters phone call and they support each other and are as close as a brother and sister can be.

It makes me think about our family and what a disease like CF can do. It hurts us all, leaves us breathless with worry and pain for Danielle and frankly, for each other. But…. It has brought us closer. We know how to fight for Danielle’s life, we know how to sink to our knees in prayer and how to find joy in the midst of despair. We’ve been told we’re too lenient with our kids, but I disagree. We know the fear we could lose them, it never goes away. So we love them and we love them unconditionally, without holding back because we know how fragile our lives really are. We know how quickly a few words uttered by a doctor can change the way we look at life.

I remember the day they told me Danielle had CF. She was in the hospital because she was considered failure to thrive. She never got above her birthweight and she was 3 months old. The nurses took her from me and brought me into a conference room, sat me down at a table and uttered 10 words that changed our lives forever

“Our worst worst fears are founded, your daughter has Cystic Fibrosis.”

It’s amazing how quickly your life changes with a diagnosis. Things you thought would be horrendous become your new normal. You learn new words, new treatments, how the body systems work, how to hold your child down while they do painful procedures. You learn to fear words such as blown veins, exacerbations, bronchial drainage, sputum, sensitivity reports, resistant strains, picc lines, pulmonary function, liver enzymes, ports, bio hazards, bio security. You become a walking encyclopedia on CF. You absorb everything you can and spit out statements like, “every 20,000 live births result in a CF baby, leading genetic killer of Caucasian children of European descent, 30,000 patients in the US, life expectancy of 18, then life expectancy of 30, then 40 now with Tricafta a full lifespan if there is no damage.”

Tricafta, the miracle drug. It is a game changer. It changes her DNA. Two tiny little pills allows for the chloride channel to work which causes her body to function more normally. We were ecstatic, but our normalcy ended abruptly. She has damaged lungs. She’s still susceptible to dangerous organisms, and now one has her lungs on fire.

“It’s good she was diagnosed young”, they said, “she won’t know any better.” My heart screamed at that statement. I wanted to hit someone,something, or at the very least scream and never stop! It’s not fair. I want her to know how to live! I wish she knew what is was like to not do 2-3 bronchial drainage treatments a day, I would love for her to eat without taking digestive enzymes, to not see a doctor every three months, to not have to haul bags of meds and machines that clear the mucus from her lungs on every single trip she takes. I would love for her to just live!

They say when CF is in your family you go through the stages of grief over and over again. I have those stages memorized. I’m in the anger stage again. I’m angry. I’m very angry. You see Danielle is so happy. she moved away from home. She has a great job she loves and she’s a very hard worker. She often goes in on her day off, even while fighting this disease. She is one they can count on and often shows up when she’s struggling to breathe. She’s tired and that scares me which in turn makes me angry. My anger will dissipate and I don’t find I want to bargain anymore, that stage of grief never made sense to me, but the depression sometimes sneaks in next and usually I will enter the acceptance stage pretty quickly. I’m just a bit uneasy about her treating this bacteria without me. How is she going to do this? How will she hook up to her IV’s around the clock without my help? Who will cook for her when she’s just too tired? Who will search for food she can eat while so nauseous? How will she continue to work?

Danielle and I talked the other day. She’s ready to tell the world about what it’s like to be her. We’ve both have showed mostly the positive side of handling this disease, but she wants people to know both sides. I told her I would help her by writing about her journey in my blog as well. It’s time we bring awareness to this disease. We still have to fight, we need to let you all know what it’s like and to join us in the fight. Pray with us for healing. Pay attention when CF is in the news, and if you’re so inclined, you can donate to the CF foundation to help find a cure. We’re close, and the babies that are born today may never have to fight like Danielle. So far she has beaten down the disease but over the years we have seen so many kids and young adults lose their fight. It’s a long fight, and painful fight and it would be amazing to know that the kids today won’t have to fight so hard just to keep breathing.

Today I really missed him, I could feel his energy around me, hear his nicker on the wind. Sometimes missing him comes over me and I find myself feeling him walking behind me and asking me what we’re doing today. A horse like JJ leaves his mark forever in your heart. He was my buddy my counselor, my teacher and my friend. When I slipped onto his saddle back then, I was home.

I haven’t written about JJ because the words just wouldn’t come. I mean, how do you talk about a horse that walked you through so many changes? How do you talk about a horse that you thought you saved, but really saved you instead?

I got the phone call on a cold December day from my friend Tom. He asked me if I wanted a project horse, a skinny arab gelding that looked pretty bad. In fact, he wasn’t sure if he would make the trailer ride over. When he got here with JJ, I saw a skinny bay horse that every rib could be counted. I bet you could have given a horse anatomy lesson and use him as an example of a horse’s skeleton. But it was his eyes that got me, they were quiet and internal until he looked at me. His head turned, his ear pricked up at me and he leaned closer. At that moment I was hooked and knew he would stay with me as long as it took for him to heal.

We put two blankets on him, started him on Senior feed and let him eat his way back. I rarely took off his blanket that first winter. I didn’t like seeing what he looked like underneath. His eyes had become lively, he had a proud headset, and a beautiful long mane. It was easy to believe he was fat and sassy until you took that blanket off, then you saw the ribs, the patchy coat and the ravages of starvation.

In the spring he had gained enough weight that I felt I could try to ride him. I took him to the round pen to evaluate him so eventually I could use him in the lesson program or sell him. Thats what I did back then, lessons were my priority after a horse I took in was on their way back to health or selling them to a new home that I thought would be a better fit for who they were. The buying, rehabbing, retraining and using them for lesson was easy for me, the selling, not so much. I wasn’t very good at the selling part…… unless one of my boarders bought them. Many of my boarders own the horses we took in back then.

As I slid on his back, my friend, Kim, came out and asked me what I thought. I told her that he needed some work. I rode him around the round pen, he neck reined nice and picked up the walk, trot, and canter easily, and had a decent stop. I thought he might make a nice lesson horse, but little did I know that I was evaluating my heart horse, my best friend, my mentor, my teacher, MY Horse. I can’t believe in that moment I didn’t know who he really was, how blind I was to who he was. If I could have had a soul partner in a horse, it was him.

I started riding him as my demo horse, the horse I taught from and who showed my students what to do. We started trail riding together. I didn’t really have a personal horse back then. I just rode whoever needed it, but I found myself choosing him, being uncomfortable with my students riding him and unsettled if anyone ever said anything negative about him while taking lessons. Special note here: students get frustrated when they’re learning and often speak negatively about the horse they are riding. As instructors we try to take that in stride, but it can be really hard, especially, if the horse is mine and I know it’s operator error, and how the horse is really taking care of the student and trying to help me teach. I would often get pretty angry if anyone would complain about JJ, so I pulled him from the lesson program, and he became my personal horse in everything I did.

JJ and I loved trail riding together, in fact he loved it so much he would argue a bit with me when it was time to go back to the trailer. He was a leader, he always wanted to be in front, and there were times we disagreed about it, and I tried to change that in him and make him ride in the back, but he made it so uncomfortable for me that I finally gave in and accepted that was who he was. He loved the freedom of the front, the ability to see, to take off in an instant, to protect the others, and spin like a top if a deer crossed our path. My JJ, he could spin on a dime! He was fun, he helped me rescue other riders when they came off their horses, we carried a few people back to camp together. He loved camping, I loved camping with him. He never ever let me down out there.

We also gamed together. We chose Omoksee as our preferred gaming club. He loved chasing down the other horses in the races, I loved riding him. When he would see a pole, a barrel, a jump, in our lane as we approached, he would slightly slow his stride as if to ask me what action to take. I could just see the pattern in my head, and he would do it, we rarely if ever knocked, he always was with me, he knew my thoughts, and my plans to the point I had no conscious thought, just the feel of the pattern, my horse and our oneness. Gaming will never be the same for me again. I’ve tried, it’s different now, Sassy doesn’t like it and Buzz doesn’t have that absolute and total trust and connection with me that JJ had. Maybe I don’t do the pattern work enough with them, maybe the desire is gone, or maybe it’s because no horse can be JJ?

We tried jumping for a hot minute. Yes, I often chuckle when I imagine JJ’s thoughts as I brought out my little jumping saddle. I can hear him saying, now what? A new Saddle? OK, we can give it a try. And try he did! We even attended an eventing clinic when he was 25 and I had a torn ACL. I’m sure we were a sight to behold, me with my brace and him with his sway back. We did have fun that day, and then I hung up that saddle and never used it again with him. It was fun to try, but gaming and trail riding was our thing, and we went back to that.

I took him to his last horse show when he was 27 and he took high point that day in our class. I remember people asking me about him, and being impressed, until I took his saddle off, then they would do a double take and ask me how old he was. I guess everyone but the two of us were concerned about his back being swayed. He never, ever let that bother him, and frankly it never bothered me either.

My last trail ride with him was up at Crow Hassen, when he was 32. We had a beautiful fall ride with several of our dearest friends and he left his body less than a year later on August 16, 2015. My friends that were with us on our last trail ride are still here, but some of our horses are gone. I miss them, we miss them, and today I was finally able to write a little about my JJ.

Today I rode Buzz and used JJ’s saddle, his bridle, and his halter. It’s the first time I’ve sat in his saddle since he left. As I settled down onto Buzz’s back, it almost felt like home, but not quite, it was more like being next door. I don’t think I can do it again, ride in that saddle. Buzz is not JJ, and I shouldn’t expect him to be. But today it was nice to almost be home again.

**The 1st, 3rd, and 7th pictures above were taken by Shelley Paulson. She and JJ were friends and I want to make sure she gets credit for the amazing photos (memories) she gave me.

Several weeks ago we had an opening here at Davenport Stables for a nice, easy going gelding to help me take care of the mares. You see, it was time to say goodbye to a wonderful soul. His name is Ditto and he has been a helpmate for me here at the barn for over 15 years. At first I didn’t realize what a special leader he would be, and what an important role he would play in my journey with horses. I guess I didn’t pay too much attention to him at first because he didn’t belong to me and he was an easy keeper, out with the other geldings and he was just “one of the boys”.

His owner was a young woman when Ditto came here to live with us, and she spent many hours with him, out on trail rides and attending an occasional gaming show. They had a special connection that would last the rest of his life. As life moved on, Molly grew up, got married, and started a family. Ditto grew older and needed extra feedings since his teeth started to wear out. Molly wasn’t able to come out twice a day to feed him, so Ditto quickly became part of the herd that needed extra help and care. Here at the barn, I like to keep an older gelding in the with mares, I’ve found it helps keep them balanced and happy. My beloved JJ had that role, he handed it over to Billy, then Billy passed away and we handed it over to Ditto. Ditto stepped into those big shoes and filled them to overflowing. He was more than a leader for the mares, he became an important teacher for me, and I would like to tell you a little about him. Sit back, grab a cup of coffee or tea and let me tell you a couple stories about his relationship with me and the mares…

I started a class to learn how to become more aware of the horses. It was a course where I had to observe the horses, enter their herd without causing disruption of the flow of their energy, and report back my thoughts, feelings, and observations. We were learning how to use energy work to help horses and ourselves and one important aspect of that is running their bladder meridian. I woke up one morning with that in mind and after chores headed out to the mare herd. Ditto and Nora were in the shelter together, they were the best of friends, the kind of friends that could hang out all day together, then go off with their owners to enjoy the day and not be anxious. They were very comfortable in their friendship, and I enjoyed observing them. So, just outside the shelter I paused and searched for their bubble, and gently asked with my intent if I could come closer to run their energy. I felt a warmth come into my hands, and a gentle push back against my ask. I was about four feet from them and knew I had to get closer. I inhaled and exhaled and leaned forward again in my ask, the push back was there again. Then I felt a thought nudge my brain, “stay there”, try from there. I leaned back again and just stood there breathing in and out slowly. I let my brain clear of all thought. I felt my body swaying in rhythm of my breath, I could hear the other horses, I could feel a gentle breeze, and I felt my heartrate slow. I sensed the energy all around me and felt my hands grow warm again. I leaned forward again, but I felt, “stay, try another way, no touch”. I closed my eyes, and felt a nudge, “open your eyes”. So, I opened my eyes and let my eyes roam over Ditto’s body as he stood there. I dopped my gaze to his left rear hoof and started to let my gaze follow his meridian. It felt so easy as my gaze ran up his leg, until I got to his hock, then I felt stuck. I kept my eyes on his hock for a few heartbeats, and then Ditto yawned and shifted his weight. I helped him release there! Just with my eyes and intent, no touch? How is that possible? Lightbulbs started going on in my head, we often talk about the fact that horses are so sensitive that they can run as a herd, wheel and turn without running into each other. They read each other at such a level that they merge as one. Why wouldn’t that be possible when doing energy work? I swear that Nora and Ditto said to each other. “She finally listened!” There also was a sense of humor in that moment. It felt like they approved of what I was doing, and I walked back to the barn with a lighter step, excited to write to my teacher.

Ditto had such a way about him that it was easy to understand exactly what he needed to take care of the girls. He was a good leader, never abusive, or demanding, but if one of the mares got out of line, she knew it! He was the kind of leader I wished we had in humankind. He got his point across quickly, then walked away and let it go. He led by example and the mares followed him because he helped keep them stable. They chose to be around him, and he was good at helping them be balanced. We knew it was getting close to time to let him go because he started to become crabby with the girls, and at feeding time he let us know that he was very hungry. We noticed all the hay he would put in his mouth, would be balled up all over the pasture. He no longer could chew his hay, and we couldn’t get weight on him even when he was getting massive amounts of grain a day. The decision was carefully and tearfully made with the vet that this fall we would put him down.

I received an email from a woman who was looking for a boarding place for her gelding. John and I made contact with her and set up a time to meet. I was nervous because adding another person and horse to our barn can be a bit jarring to both humans and horses alike. After meeting Mia, and learning more about her and her horse Remy, John and I knew it would be a great fit. I had a nudge in my heart that Remy would be the gelding that would come into the mare herd and lead. It was such a calming feeling that I was looking forward to him coming to the barn, even though it was going to be Ditto’s last days with us.

Remy was brought in on Oct 29th and when he stepped off the trailer it took my breath away because he was a big red quarter horse that looked like he could be Ditto’s brother. When we turned him out into the herd a couple days later, the mares accepted him right away, but Ditto moved him off a few times. It didn’t take long for me to notice some interesting interactions between Ditto and Remy. I truly believe that Ditto was teaching Remy how to take care of his girls, and I’m pretty sure I may have been discussed a little bit.

I walked out to the herd one evening after chores, it was a gentle night, the wind soft, the birds calling to each other as they roosted for the night, and the mare herd was quiet. I gently slipped open the gate and into the pasture, my teacher’s words from the past reminding me how to enter their space without ripples. I slowly walked towards Ditto, my heart heavy, and sadness leaking out through my eyes. I slowly approached him at his shoulder and gently let my hand slide down his ribs to right behind his elbow in his girth area, I could feel his heart beating there, the swaying of his body to the rhythm of his heartbeat and his breath. I let my head drop forward and rested my forehead just under his withers. His sweet horse scent entered my nostrils with each breath as tears slipped down my cheeks. He let me stand there a few moments, then he shifted away. “that’s enough, it’s going to be okay, I’m tired” filled my senses. I pushed back with “I will miss you” he moved further away from me, “it’s okay.” and he walked off. I stood there and felt the warmth of the breeze and watched him walk to Remy. He stood next to Remy and then the two of them walked away together. I knew in my heart they were communicating with each other. Ditto the patient teacher once again, once again helping me teach a new horse about our herd. Our herd doesn’t just include horses, it includes the humans that love them as well. I turned and slowly walked back to the barn, knowing that Ditto and I shared a special goodbye. There were many hours that I stopped what I was doing to observe Ditto with the herd in his last week here. Many things that I will hold close to my heart that I’m not sure I would share. Some things just can’t be shared.

Ditto has been gone for a few weeks now. The herd has changed a little bit. Remy now is the leader, but every once in a while, I think I see Ditto out of the corner of my eye and it’s Remy as he moves a mare over, or struts to the water for a drink. He stops what he is doing sometimes and just comes to me when I’m out in the pasture, the other day I stopped next to him at his shoulder, slowly slid my hand down along his ribs to his girth area, dropped my head down next to his withers and breathed in his wonderful horse scent. It reminded me of another big red horse and tears welled up in my eyes, “No, Ditto, you did not end, your legacy is here, right here with your herd, thank you for teaching me, for leading me, and for being such a good leader.” I lifted my head up from Remy and gazed into his eyes, “it’s good” he seemed to say, and I smiled and gently left the herd in his capable presence to reenter my human world.

.

I walked out to the barn for night chores, the heat hit me the second I stepped out the door. The wind picked up and it was hot, the heat made my skin burn and I was instantly brought back to my childhood, I could close my eyes and feel the Oklahoma wind on my skin, hear the cattle out in the feedlot, and smell the scent of the farm. It’s all right there in my memory, in fact the memories of my youth almost seem clearer than the memories from yesterday. I breathe in the hot air, and I smile, the memories from the farm are priceless to me.

I go on with the evening chores, mix up the grain for Sisco, Ditto, Frank, Piper and Trinity, I look down at my dogs, Lainey and Boomer, and we head out back to get Ditto. The hot wind hits me again, I close my eyes, I hear the horses stomping their feet and swishing their tails, I stand still, cock my head because I hear it, the mourning doves. With that I am totally transported back in time. I am on the farm, I hear the mourning doves, listen to the horses and the memories flood back into my soul……

Mr. Ed was a horse that my Uncle Ed owned. He was humungous, at least that what he seemed to me as I couldn’t have been much older than 7 or 8 when I met him. He was beautiful, he had a light brown coat, with a black mane and tail and a little white star on his forehead and one of his feet had white on it too. My first memory of riding a horse, and of going out and getting a horse all by myself was with him. I would walk out of Grandma and Grandpa’s house through the back door just off the porch, but first I would stop in the porch and grab a handful of dog food because whichever dog was on the farm at the time would usually be sleeping under one of the big bushes at the back door. They would wake up and give a big stretch and yawn, and lazily able over to me for a little treat, sometimes they would decide to follow me out to the horses, other times they would go back to their hole under the bushes and fall asleep. I would duck under the clothesline as the full strength of the sun would hit me and the heat of the day would suck the air right out of my lungs. It didn’t matter to me though; I was heading out to the corral. I shrugged off the heat and kept on going, passing under the big trees, making a right turn before I ran into the machine shed where a tractor or two would be parked. It seemed like Uncle Ed or Grandpa were always working on some piece of machinery that had broken down. I might step into the cool shade of the machine shed, just to see what was happening, especially if Uncle Ed was welding something. I liked watching the sparks jump around on the floor, even though all the grown-ups told me not to watch, it would hurt my eyes, (sorry, Aunt Marilyn, Mom, and Dad, sometimes I didn’t mind very well).

Retracing my steps out of the machine shed, I would go out the door again and turn left, with a smile on my face and my stomach feeling like I had butterflies jumping around in it. I was heading out to the horses! A quick turn to the left and I was back on track. I walked a little further down the road, the big hen house on my right. Grandma had lots of hens and a rooster. I always watched out for the rooster. One time one of them chased my cousin, Tiffany, legend has it that he was invited for dinner that night as the guest of honor! The road came to a v right after the hen house, I could either go straight for a very long walk to the hay shed or turn left go past the little grain barns to the corrals, the cattle chute, the scale house, and the barn where the saddles were kept. I would step into the little barn; it was always dark and cooler in there and had a comforting smell of hay, and leather. I never saw a horse or cow, or any other animal kept there, but sometimes the barn cats had kittens; so of course, I had to step through the doorway and investigate the hay bales to see if there were any kittens. Today, no luck!

I returned to the front of the barn and found Mr. Ed’s bridle. His bridle was funny looking, it didn’t have a bit, but it had this band that went over his nose that moved, and the reins were attached to pieces of metal that came down from the nose band, Uncle Ed called it a hackamore, but all I just knew it to be Mr Ed’s bridle.

The horses were in the corral just off the cattle chute I opened the gate and it quickly slammed shut behind me, it had a spring on it and would slam back so fast that you had to quickly get through it or get slapped on the butt or your fingers pinched! The horse’s corral was off to the left, and I shimmied over the rails and there he was! The most beautiful horse in the world. I slipped down from the fence and walked over to him. I could smell his wonderful horse scent before I even touched him. I stepped close, right in front of him with my back against his front legs, I reached up and put my hand gently on his muzzle, he lowered his head down and I put the reins over his neck, then held the bridle up to his face, he lowered his head more and I slipped the top part over his ears and buckled the piece that needed to be buckled, at the time I didn’t know what that was called, but now my grown up self knows it’s the throat latch.

I quickly led him out of the corral, and over by the barn again where there was baling wire hooked over nails, I wrapped the reins over the bailing wire and went into the barn for a curry comb. I quickly ran the comb over his body and looked around to see if any of the hired hands were around. I was hoping I would find Daniel; he would almost always saddle up a horse for me and he was always nice. Unfortunately, on this day he wasn’t there, so I knew I had to ride bareback. Riding bareback was hard, but I knew I could eventually get on with the help of the cattle chute, it was one of the big ones that allowed the cattle to get loaded and unloaded from the big cattle trucks that came and went to the feedlot. I positioned Mr. Ed to the side and slowly climbed up along the rail on the outside of the cute. When I got to the top, Mr. Ed was standing directly below me in the perfect position, and I would drop down. I don’t know why I wouldn’t have just used the corral fence, why did I choose that leap from so high up? It’s a little weird, but that was my favorite way to get on bare back. I remember my mom used to tell me she would shimmy up the horse’s front leg and get on, but I could never figure that out. Mr. Ed’s head always snapped up quickly when I jumped on. Looking back on that, I’m sure I either surprised him or it might have hurt a little bit, or both! Man, he was such a good horse.

As soon as I got settled on his back. I would lean forward and wrap my arms around his neck and just lay there, I could feel his heart beating under mine, I could feel each inhale and exhale, and smell his wonderful scent. Right here, right now was heaven on earth. The 106 degree heat didn’t touch me, the worries of my young life would disappear. it was just me and my horse. I would have him to walk off and we would head up the road, past the big hay shed, past the feed lot and lowing cattle on our left, and into the field straight ahead. I could ride for quite a while up that way, the tree row on my right. At the end of the tree row, I would turn into it, we would step into the shade and enter a muted world of shadows and birds, at this point I would turn back towards the home place and walk for as long as I could in the tree row, soon the carcasses of cattle would come into view. I was intrigued by them, and their different stages of decay. It was interesting to see all the bones that made up a cow, the way their bodies changed as the earth reclaimed them. I know it sounds so weird, but I always have been interested in how animals and people are made, how our bodies fit together and how they work. Mr. Ed wouldn’t shy away; he just would walk through like it wasn’t a big deal as I satisfied my curiosity from his back. Then we would come out of the tree row, back onto the road and I would ask him to trot. He had the bounciest tot ever! I would sing this song and when I got to the end, he would stop and walk again. I don’t know if he walked because the song was over, or if it was because I was about to fall off!

Trot, Trot to Boston Town to get a loaf of bread.

Trot, Trot home again, the old trot’s dead!

Pretty soon we would be back at the barn, I would turn Mr. Ed so we passed the barn and scale house and continue on until we hit the public road. I would turn him to the right, and we would head on over to the silage pit. While out on the main road I loved to turn him into ditches and have him go up and down them. There was such a sense of power as he launched himself up but going down again could be painful because I would land on that bone in the front! Ouch, I hated that part and would scoot my bottom back where it belonged again. Once at the silage pit, I would go up and down the small mounds, it was fun to feel him slide down a little bit, there were little hills here that I could go up and down too. When we were tired of that playground, I would turn and look out at the pasture, Uncle Ed and Grandpa sometimes had a few head of cattle on pasture, and Uncle Ed had his broodmare, Dixie out there. She was also a kind soul, another bay horse that I would try to ride around. I don’t believe she ever was “broke”, but she let me be with her, and ride her just free out in the pasture. I never put a saddle or bridle on her. I would just wait until she was by a rock or something, then I would slide on. But of course, not when I was with Mr. Ed. Sometimes I would ride Mr. Ed into the pasture, but only if I had found someone to help me put a saddle on. I couldn’t figure out how to get back on otherwise, which is funny because I could do it with Dixie.

When Mr. Ed and I would get tired of hanging out by the silage pit, we would head home. Pretty soon I would start up with

“Trot, trot to Boston town to get a loaf of bread.

Trot, trot home again the old trot is dead.”

he would break into the trot, and then down to the walk at the end, but now his walk was faster since we were going home. I would start up the song again, and again up to the trot, me bouncing all over the place, then back down to the walk again. We would do this all the way home. Once home I knew it was time to stop, I was hot and wanted to see what the grown-ups were doing. I took Mr. Ed back to his corral, took off his special bridle, hung it up and headed back into the house. I came through the back porch, kicking off my boots and at the same time my stomach rumbled. “I hope Grandma has cookies” I thought to myself, I called out for her and headed into the kitchen where I knew I would be met with a hug and a smile….and yes, a cookie from her cookie jar. Just writing this brings tears to my eyes, I miss her so much, my grandma, the farm, my family, and the horses that touched me. I was a girl that was truly blessed.

Why horses? Why do you ride? Why do you always feel like you have to take lessons? Why do you keep learning? What’s the deal?

I get these questions all the time. What is it about a horse? I can tell you what it is for me.

It’s the satisfaction of knowing that I can communicate to another being. The connection the horse gives me as he follows my thoughts. No person can do that. He knows my intention, my emotions, and my love. He knows it so far deep inside of himself that he never questions it. I don’t have to reassure him of my love or devotion, I don’t have to make sure his feeling aren’t hurt. The time spent with him is just what it is, it’s connection without explanation, leading through feel and not having to speak. Every time I am with my horse I learn, he is always teaching me how to be quieter in my communication. In todays world it seems like words are floating all around us. We have to explain EVERYTHING, we’re always worried of hurting someone, or heaven help us, we might offend someone. With my horse I can just be and not rationalize or explain where I’m coming from. If I want to teach him something, I do, if reprimand him for something, I do and he doesn’t walk away mad, we just learn from it and move on.

Yesterday I went on a trail ride with a dear friend who I haven’t seen in so many years that I’m shocked. We met at the trailhead and all the years fell away. We instantly fell into each other’s arms and hugged, had a quick visit, then mounted up. Both of us have Morgans now and we enjoyed talking about the breed, her breeding program, and the stallion she was riding. We literally had a blast on those trails. The years fell away. I lost all my fears and apprehension that have accumulated in me over the years, I was a child again, riding a horse that I loved, that trusted me, and that I could count on. I was with my friend who I have shared many years of riding with. We did all the things I’ve been so careful not to do anymore, like racing up hills, and cantering on and on and on. It was four hours that were lovely, delightful, and astonishing. As I write this post I have tears of joy in my eyes, my stomach has tickles in it, just like it did when I was a kid getting ready to go to the farm. Yesterday I got to fly again, and yes, that’s my answer! Why Horses? Because I get to fly. It’s the most amazing thing.

Companionship, mutual respect, love, trust. I see all of those things as I look up into his eyes. The way he stays there, the soft little nickers as I walk to him. The way he stretches his neck when I find the places that need scratching. The question on his face when I ask him to try something new. The way he is willing to try new things with me without getting frightened. My heart expands as I look at him, I lean forward until our foreheads touch. I feel his breath, I sense his heartbeat, and for a moment we are as one. One heart, one breath, and one mind. Then the wind blows, a horse in the pasture nickers, the chain on the gate rattles, and our spell is broken. The activity in the barn brings us out of our trance. Our bubble pops and I step away, give him one more scratch and I take him back out to his herd. He walks away to begin his day, and I leave him there to begin mine. Oh, what a beautiful way to start the day!

I walked into the indoor arena, the little bay Morgan gelding is patiently waiting as his owner, Joan tacks him up and gets him ready for me to ride. I get my saddle, Joanie and I gently settle it on his back and we finish getting him ready together. This little horse’s name is Chance, and he came our way through a summer camp for kids. He was donated and its pretty shocking that such a nicely put together horse was donated to a riding camp. He was eventually sold to us because he had a bit of a bucking problem and at times would buck with the campers. It didn’t sound like it was a huge problem, but enough of a problem that he “failed” as a camp horse.

We felt lucky to get him, he came here and actually fit right into our lesson program for my advanced riders. There were times he would get a little nervous, or a worried look in his eyes, but my girls were advanced enough to help him through those times. He never did buck with lessons, or out trail riding. When I eliminated the lesson program, Chance needed a new owner and I wanted to go back to basics with him, because the worried look was more noticeable, or else I was more sensitive to his needs. I was slowing down and becoming more in tune to my horses without the stress of constantly giving lessons with them. I was finding out they had a lot to teach me, especially Chance.

Joanie offered to help me with his retraining process. We started working with him, letting him set the pace and we discovered he had a hard time just being a horse with us. The two of us started him from the ground, moved to saddling and ground driving. During his re-training, Joanie lost her beloved horse, Kona. I think Chance played an important role in helping her heart heal, and in the process she fell for him and offered to be his next owner.

Time passed, Joanie and Chance were doing well together until about a year ago. During a lesson, Chance bucked and Joanie came off. It wasn’t pretty, she ended up in the ER with stiches and Chance had a sore back.

Fast forward to this summer. We’ve started him over again and now it was time to put him under saddle. We still see the worried look in his eye, but he’s starting to trust us. Our theory is that he may have been pushed in his training in a way that didn’t make sense to him when he was started under saddle originally. We think he shut down in his past life because he didn’t understand his training, Our theory is that he couldn’t take it anymore, then he started bucking. When he bucked he got moved on to the next owner. We of course aren’t sure this is true, its just a feeling we have about him.

Riding him had been going okay and I was pretty excited that we were making headway. Joanie bridled him for me and handed me his reins. I felt up to him through the reins and he felt solidly blocked, so I walked him around, until I heard him sigh, then walked over to the mounting block and swung my leg over. As I settled on his back I felt a zing, my heart rate accelerated as I gathered up his reins and felt nothing, absolutely nothing from him. He was a block of wood beneath me. I couldn’t ask for a release through the reins, and I didn’t even feel his ribcage expand with his breath. I asked him to open up a little bit and he said, “No!”.

His energy was so blocked that I thought to myself that I should walk him forward a bit to get things moving inside of him. I asked him to walk forward and he did, but there was no head movement, his ribs didn’t swing from side to side, and his gait was very choppy. I picked up the left rein and asked him to turn to the left. When I made contact with his mouth he locked his jaw against me and pulled to the right, hard! I softened my arm, but kept the contact with his mouth. I then shortened the left rein until his head and neck bent to the left. He pulled against me so hard that my arm started to ache and my stomach muscles burned, all I felt was a pull against me with all his might and his jaw locked down tight, no softening, no release, and no try, absolutely nothing. We walked several circles like this, I asked him, ” Chance soften, come to me, let me in, I’m right here”. I sent light down my arm, it bounced right back to me and he said, “NO, I can’t! “

I replied with, “trust me”,

He said, “no”,

I said, “trust me, let me in”,

He said, “no. I can’t.”

I said, “I’m going to move you out faster, maybe that will help.”

He said, “try, but I can’t let go.”

I said”, ok, here we go”.

I helped him up into the trot, the brace got bigger, he pulled harder. I tried to soften my body, his rhythm was wrong. It made no sense, all his effort was concentrated on pulling against me, he lost himself in the pull. It made him jumpy, everything was scaring him, the shadows on the ground, the hay bales, the mounting block. Everything was scaring him, because he was leaning so hard on my arm

I said, “please, Chance trust me and let go”.

He said, “I can’t”.

I said, “please I am here , I won’t leave you, I won’t let you go.”

He said, “I can’t, It’s bad, I can’t. ”

I said, “lets move up, you have to breathe follow me, breathe with me.”

He said, “I’m scared.”

I said, “I’m with you, trust me.”

He said, “I’m scared.”

I said, “I”m here. I won’t leave you.”

He said, “it’s going to get bad.”

I said, “I will try to go with you. I’m here, I won’t leave you. Try to canter, it will help you breathe.”

He then let go, he cantered. He became more fearful, He jumped away from shadows, he tried to shy away from the bales, the mounting block, the door opening. He was scared. I was calm. A calmness settled over me, I felt his fear, but I knew I could handle it. I’m not sure how I knew, but I knew to my core that we would go through it together and I wouldn’t come off.

I felt him hit the top of his fear, energy was bouncing around in him, then he kicked up a clod of dirt, I saw it fly by us like slow motion, I thought to myself, “here we go”! Lainey walked in, he jumped away from her, the clod of dirt hit the mounting block with a loud bang, I leaned forward to gather more rein, I knew he was going to blow, but he needed to. I felt a calmness over take me, he started to buck, I let him, then he continued to buck, I asked him to stop, he couldn’t, I asked him to move forward, then with all the strength I had left I lifted his head up and turned him to the left until his head was on my knee.

I said, “don’t buck, lets run!” I kicked him forward into a canter, he cantered and cantered and cantered. I felt the tension leave his body as we shot around the arena, I felt his fear drain away. He started to relax, I asked him to trot, he followed my lead. I asked him if he was ok, he softened in response. I picked up the rein, and said hello, he said hello back to me through the reins, I felt him chew the bit, his jaw softened.

I said, “can you follow me now?”

He said, “I’ll try.”

I picked up the left rein he followed it. I picked up the right rein, he followed it. I asked him to walk he dropped down from the trot. I asked him to canter again, he popped right into it. I settled my body into the trot rhythm. He followed. It was beautiful, I felt tears in my eyes, and goosebumps break out on my body, he was relaxed and just trotting with me!

I turned to the left, he followed, I turned to the right, he followed. All by feel. The reins were open, we had communication. I felt his ribs swing in rhythm of his walk . He quit jumping at shadows. I asked him to trust me and he said ok.

I asked, “can you give me your feet?”

He said, “yes”.

I said, “wow!”

He said, “I know. We were there together,”

I said, “yes, we did it.”

“I wasn’t scared,” he said.

“I know,” I said, “thank you.”

He then showed me he was happy.

I said, “thank you for showing me”.

He then opened up some more. I eventually got off and handed his reins to Joanie. Joanie and I talked quietly about what happened, what she saw and felt, and what I saw and felt.

The bottom line is that I can’t explain what happened, or how I stayed on. I’ve never ridden a bucking horse for that long and stayed with him. I’ve never gone to that dark, scary place, I’ve been too afraid I wouldn’t survive and come out the other side.

I don’t think I want to ever go there again, but I’m glad I did and I’m glad Chance was willing to show me what he needed. Sometimes we do have to go to the dark place to help them find release.

As the day progressed, I pondered what happened. I thought for sure I would be sore, tired, and scared. But the weird thing is that I felt stronger, energized and more sure of myself as both a horsewoman and frankly more confidant as a person.

Did Chance have the dark place inside of him, or did I, or did both of us? I will never really know the answer to that. But I can tell you I have ridden him a few times since that day, so has Joanie, and there is a change in him, he is open and soft. There also is a change in me, I’m open, softer, and taking more time with enjoying the world around me.

Yes, we went to the dark place together, but it helped us find a path to better understanding and a better ability to feel secure in what we know about each other. I have a feeling Chance helped me as much, or maybe even more than I helped him.