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.