Friday, August 13, 2010

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.

11 comments:

detroit dog said...

That's a wonderful photo, and really a thoughtful post. The relationship you have with your horses is awesome and inspiring.

Best wishes and a big hug for your Mom.

billie said...

Thank you for the lovely photograph and post. It's sometimes painfully true that the present is what we have, and while I think it is naturally human to remember times past and look ahead to times to come, if we do too much of that we lose the moments we have in front of us.

Grey Horse Matters said...

Love the picture Victoria. Hope your mom is doing well. It must be an odd feeling not to have her around the house. I can understand how you must miss her.

I'm glad to hear that your horses are doing well and you seem to be getting into a routine now that things have calmed down at home a bit.

Lori Skoog said...

Nice to find a post from you tonight.
It's so nice that you could accept your Mom for just the way she was...and allowed her to feel needed and cared for. I'm sure this is a difficult time for both of you. How is she doing and are you happy with the facility.

I wish I could watch you sitting in the pasture with your girls. What a picture it must be.

Thanks for taking the time to fill us in.

Kate said...

Your thought of trying to create new rituals with your mother is very kind - I think it's the little things like that which can really make a difference.

Imprinted horses can be different to deal with - but that comes with its own set of advantages too as you know.

The older I get, the more I want to appreciate every day, regardless of how well or badly it goes - it's the only one of this day that I'll ever get.

Nor’dzin said...

Thanks for leaving a comment on my blog. I have been very out of touch with blogging since May, but am getting back to it now. Sorry that your mother can't live with you any more and I hope she settles where she is. My mum is 94 and still managing on her own at the moment, but I am not sure for how much longer. I felt very connected to Dee today - such a wonderful thing. Take care and best wishes, Nor'dzin

JennyB said...

I'm so sorry that things with your mom have changed like this but you've done a marvelous job with a generous soul and kind heart. It sounds like spending time with your horses will really help you weather this transition gracefully, bless their hearts.

Spartacus Jones said...

I think you're right.
The key to being comfortable with horses is to understand their nature.
The key to being comfortable with ourselves is to understand our own.

sj

FloridaRobot said...

I love reading your blog Victoria (and look at the pictures). Always leaves me with something interesting to think about.

John and Regina Zdravich said...

Funny how it all strings together -- your mom being missed and the relationship with the horses. Your mom is blessed that you made such a nice life for her for as long as you could. Ditto for the horses....

Diamond in the ruff said...

Hi! I know exactly how you feel, I wish I would have done a lot more than I did this summer but at least I got to ride almost everyday! Come check out my blog www.wildheartsrunningfree.blogspot.com it's everything horse!!!!