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Something’s Not Right

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

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

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

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

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

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!

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

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

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

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.

Silk Shows Me How It’s Done

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

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

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.

Soooo Cute!

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

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

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

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.