Horse crazy. Still.

July 14, 2011 § Leave a comment

I get to spend an hour or so with horses six days out of the week – most at the boarding stable, one at a therapeutic riding center. The people are great and the horses are great. The smell of the hay, and the horses themselves, and the grain and even the beet pulp . . . the feel of the smooth leather on the seats of saddles . . . the soft breath blown from the horse’s nose . . . the eager nicker in anticipation of food . . . the smooth coats, the clop of hooves, the way they move. Oh, I love it.

I was a thoroughly horse-crazy kid. In my mind horses were wonderful and I was brave and we ran far and fast through meadows. Then my family got a horse (my parents liked helping our daydreams to become real as much as they could) – but he was a stubborn Arabian and he didn’t listen and I didn’t know how to make him. And I realized how fragile I was. And I felt afraid of horses then and sort of shut down the horse-craziness for awhile, in-between still really liking horses and trying to hide the fear.

It is important to be aware of what horses are capable of. What is better is to be aware enough to become informed and cautious enough to know that you need not be freaked out to the point of missing something marvelous. Fear can be shifted into something useful, or it can be crippling. Volunteering here and there helped me learn how to read horses at least well enough to not feel so afraid anymore. Unfortunately, at the same time this shift happened life was crowded and horses just had to be pushed aside for awhile while I worked (silly me!) on trying to have a career.

This year, I decided that it was high time I get my foot back in, well, the stirrup. (I’m not there quite yet. I might lease a horse. Maybe. It can be expensive. But we’ll see.)

Life is not very long, you know?

So now that I’m all intentional about being around horses even just this little bit, oh how the horse-craziness seems to be coming back. Horses! I am always smiling and happy-sigh-glad when I come home from the stables. I look forward to that hour or so every day. Is this my life? I always imagined working at a horse barn. And then it seemed impossible. Darned grown-up ways of thinking. Here and there, old dreams come and get fulfilled, after all.

It’s nice to feel ten years old again, sometimes.

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