The Wisdom of Old Mares

The wisdom of old mares and growing older has been swirling around in my consciousness this week. Billie at Camera-Obscura wrote a beautiful post about her 28 year old horse, Salina. As I mentioned earlier, Linda Kohanov talks about the importance of her mare, Rasa, in guiding her towards her life’s work. Since I’ve been facing some challenges and choices on my own path recently, I have been spending more time with Silk, my 23 year old soul sister.

My farrier told me that he doesn’t think I should ride Silk anymore. At first, it made me very sad to contemplate not being able to sit on her back and wander around on the trail with her anymore. What drew me to Silk from the first time I rode her was that she seemed to be able to read my mind. In the beginning, I thought that it was unique to us and a little bit frightening for me to be able to communicate with my horse without saying or doing anything. Then, I began to find other women who had similar experiences with their mares, and I came to appreciate that there is a connection between some of us and our female horses that is a wonderful gift.

There is no one else on earth, human or animal, that accepts me and appreciates me the way that Silk does. People see it in the way that she looks at me and often comment on it. I have no doubt that if I asked Silk to walk through a flaming building with me, she would do what I said we must do. That kind of trust is only possible if it goes both ways, and I have learned to listen to Silk with a closeness that sometimes seems odd to anyone watching us. So, I have come to the understanding that whether I ride her or walk beside her is insignificant. We still have a lot to talk about and share with each other.

There is a pervasive climate of fear in our country right now. I see it changing the way that my neighbors and my friends behave and think. So, some of the choices that I make these days have to do with focusing on the positive implications of what happens in my life rather than the negative. There’s enough negative energy flying around to sink us if we keep stirring it up.

Clarissa Pinkola Estes, who is working on a new book about wise old women, has good advice about how to deal with this problem: “Consider that most fear is not fear of failure: rather, it’s fear to live fully, in full power. Choose your petty fears carefully, because they can grow truly big teeth. Instead, draw your attention here…I have several fears I would like you to have…Fear these: Fear not loving while you have the chance. Fear becoming bitter. Fear cynicism. Fear turning to stone. Fear living underwhelmed by everything.”

When I am standing with Silk in the barn or in the pasture, I can feel her strength, and just putting my hands on her back or her neck, I am able to draw from it. If I am wavering or hesitating about following what my intuition is telling me to do, I go to my horse, and she lets me know that I have the power to trust myself. That is the gift these old mares give those of us who are lucky enough to live with them.

Autumn Update

My days have been filled to the brim over the last month with video projects, dog training and juggling horse care and the hectic schedule of my 16 year old daughter. So, even though I hate to see the torrential rain we are getting today that is flooding the corral and pasture, I also welcome the excuse to hide in the house and take a break. Silk and Siete are huddled in Siete’s stall with some outrageously good hay, so they’ve got no complaints. Stella and I have already been for an hour-long trek in the hills, and I’ve kicked the soccer ball so she can chase it about 200 times today. She has almost inexhaustible energy and is growing about two inches a day.

I’ve started Siete on D-Carb Balance, a supplement that I hope will help her lose weight, strengthen her immune system and keep away the hoof abscesses. She’s not crazy about the taste of it, but since it’s all that she finds in her bucket, she eats it. We had a good week of dry weather, so both horses were able to get out and run around without any mud. We’ve had so much rain that our grass just keeps growing, and the leaves on the trees are not falling or changing colors as vigorously as they usually do. It’s really weird and doesn’t feel like the usual crisp autumn we love.

Last week, I took some time to listen to a couple of interviews with Linda Kohanov about her new book, The Power of the Herd. I always find it stimulating to catch up on what Linda is thinking, and these conversations with Mark Mottershead were both thought-provoking and astonishingly honest. She discusses the death of her beloved horse, Rasa, and the leadership challenges that she has faced with her Epona programs. One of my favorite things that she talks about is how horses ask us to develop “emotional courage”. Certainly, this is true of both my horses, and I am grateful to them for teaching me how to stand my ground without being dominating or argumentative. I recommend that you check out what Linda is doing these days at www.poweroftheherd.com/

Recently, I’ve been stretching myself creatively, and I’m embarking on a new phase in my work as a film-maker. I’ve started shooting and editing my own projects -- going solo. It feels like I’ve come full circle back to when I was in college making documentaries. I’m hoping to create a very natural and comfortable rapport with my subjects where the camera becomes almost invisible to them. As I get my sea-legs on this new adventure, I’ll be asking Silk and Siete to participate with me. So, there will be some videos coming to my blog soon. All this new technology is so seductive that I find myself renewed and excited by the idea of a video journal.

“The important thing is not to stop questioning. Curiosity has its own reason for existing. One cannot help but be in awe when he contemplates the mysteries of eternity, of life, of the marvelous structure of reality. It is enough if one tries merely to comprehend a little of this mystery every day. Never lose a holy curiosity.”
Albert Einstein

Mother Nature's Wild Ride

The stress level around here has been a bit extreme. The Thursday before Hurricane Irene began her crazy run up the East Coast, my husband had the good sense to pick up a generator. We couldn’t find an electrician who would wire up a transfer switch immediately, so Mark rolled up his sleeves and figured out how to do it himself. I was busy securing the barn and the house and getting provisions. My daughter was going to have a big back to school party on Saturday night, so there was lots of agonizing about whether to re-schedule it.

As we watched the frenzied, fear provoking weather reports, I began having nightmares about trying to reach the horses in the barn during the storm, which they said would go on for 24 hours. And I was really worried that the huge hickory tree which stands over the barn would fall on it. So, Saturday morning, I made arrangements to walk the horses up the hill to my friend’s concrete block barn. It was a bit scary since the wind was blowing hard and there were dogs barking like crazy behind an electric fence. Just after we got Silk and Siete inside their stalls, the rain started to pour. My friend reassured me that he would somehow make it out to the barn on Sunday morning to feed the girls no matter how bad it was blowing. My husband was frantically running around trying to find some of the connectors for the generator since everything was sold out. He managed to finally locate what he needed, but for a while it was a bit tense since it looked like the generator wasn’t going to be ready in time.

Saturday night, we started out sleeping in our beds, but around midnight, Maark woke me and suggested that we move to the pull-out couch in the living room. We have big beech trees next to the house, and we were worried that they might come crashing through our roof. We dragged the puppy crate downstairs with us and almost as soon as we all snuggled up together, there was a huge crash from across the road, and the power went out. About a half hour later, there was a big explosion around the corner as the transformer blew. Then, at 5 am, the wind was so strong that there were a series of four large cracking explosions as the trees in the woods around us started to break and topple. My daughter leaped up and announced, “We’re going to the basement!” We grabbed the dog and the cat and went downstairs to our little nest that we had carved in one corner. I could see out the window in the garage, and these huge trees were bending and waving around like they were feathers. We had a radio so we could listen to a New York City station as they broadcast updates on Irene’s approach. At 7 am, the basement started flooding and we fired up the generator to get the sump pump working. We edged our way cautiously back upstairs where the coffee maker and the donuts were. Around 8, our neighbors started showing up on our doorstep, and we had a little impromptu party gathered around the TV. By mid-afternoon, I was able to go up to my friend’s barn to see Silk and Siete. Getting there wasn’t easy since trees and downed power lines blocked all directions except one. I had a winding route that took an extra ten minutes, but I was able to reach them. The horses were totally fine, and I was so grateful that I had made the decision to move them.

Unfortunately, one of the other two horses who live in the barn decided that she hated my girls. The next day, when we turned them out in separate pastures, this psycho mare tried to tear down the fence and attack Siete. She was rearing and screaming and biting, but Silk just got right up next to her with the fence between them and peed in her face. The crazy horse stopped suddenly and sniffed Silk’s butt and then backed off. Soon after, she raced towards the fence again, and she and Siete started to snort and carry on. Again, Silk stepped right in between them. The owner of the barn was really worried that the psycho horse would crash through the fence and get hurt. I put my girls back in their stalls and started to plan an exit strategy. Luckily, my neighbor down the road who has a big hunter/jumper barn agreed to help me and bring her trailer up as close as she could get, given all the downed lines and trees. We were able to walk Silk and Siete around to the trailer and bring them near enough to walk to our house. Our little narrow street was the only one open to traffic, so it had become a major throughfare. Then, as cars drove past at 40 mph, my husband and I led the horses back to our yard. It was scary but nobody spooked. When Silk saw her own barn, she was so happy that she actually whinnied. Both of the girls were amazingly good even in all these strange, tense situations, and I couldn’t be more proud of them.

We had no power for five days, which makes for some strange routines. I was just relieved to have the horses back in our barn and to have water for all of us, even though we didn’t have enough room on the generator for the hot water heater. Oh those cold showers! The barn flooded, but we were able to drain it and dump a dozen bags of wood pellets in the stalls to dry things up. The corral and the pasture and the ditch were just starting to clear up but now it’s pouring again. We’re going to get 3 inches of rain today and tomorrow, which seems like no big deal compared to the 10 inches that Irene brought us.

Mostly, we feel like we were very lucky. If Irene had been stronger, with 80 mph winds, the damage would have been so much worse. During the middle of the storm, my daughter was really frightened and I told her, “Mother Nature is beautiful and cruel. This is a reality check for all of us, a reminder that even though we think we control everything, we don’t.” We love our magnificent old trees, but this experience has taught us a good lesson. This week, I’m going to call the tree trimmer and see about taking down the hickory and thinning the beech trees since we won’t be moving the house or the barn. Hurricane season continues through October, and I hope that this wasn’t just a practice run.

Adapting the RItual

I have a new partner in my morning routine. Stella is now waking up at 6 am, having slept through the night in her crate like a good little puppy. I actually get up first at 5:30, sneak stealthly downstairs , avoiding the step that squeaks, since Stella sleeps in my daughter’s room. After some quality snuggle time with Velcro, who is still playing the role of the disgruntled cat, I make coffee and go back to wake up the pup.

First, we tumble down the stairs and out the front door to take care of business. I don’t use the back door because it will alert Siete and Silk. They will both dig holes to China in their stalls if they have to wait too long for breakfast, so sshh! don’t tell them . Then, back in the kitchen, I feed both Stella and Velcro and pound down some coffee. Fortified, we’re ready to greet the horses, which I regard as the official start of every day.

At first, Stella was afraid of the tack room and the garage door that growls as it opens to reveal all those bales of hay stored there. I really didn’t want to make this feeding ritual turn into a frantic battle of wills, so I tied her leash to one of the cross-ties. This seems to be a satisfying grounding post for both of us. Siete and Silk stick their heads out of their stalls and begin talking to me from across the yard. I can answer them, fill the feed buckets and grab a couple of flakes of hay without a whirling dervish of puppy tangling the leash around my legs. Stella finds the “stick of the day”, usually the largest branch she can fit in her mouth, and settles down to gnaw on it.

When I’ve got all the essentials together, we cross the yard to the barn. Stella proudly marches with her oversized prize in tow, leaving me to carry the buckets and hay. I tie her to the pasture gate while Silk complains that I’ve got that crazy black creature with me again and that I need to hurry up because can’t I see that there are horses that are starving here? Stella sits like a puppy poster child observing everything I do as I feed horses and fill water buckets and open stall doors. When I’m done and it’s time to go back to the house, Stella carefully places her prized stick through the metal pipes just on the other side of the gate inside the pasture like an offering. Siete wanders out and sniffs it but chooses the hay that I’ve left next to the water bucket.

Recently, I realized that I had stopped taking the extra moment to appreciate the angle of the sun rising over the trees and the sounds of horses munching hay and the Canadian geese honking as they fly by over our heads. So, this morning, I made Stella wait a few more minutes while we just soaked up the glories of the beginning of a late summer day.

What I Wish For

Daughter: “Mom! Stella nipped me.”
Silk: “Nmmm, nmmm!”
Daughter: “Can’t you make her stop? Stella, quit! Why is she doing this?”
Velcro (disgruntled feline): “Meow! Meow!” and “Meow!”

For two years, I have really missed not having a dog. It was the first time in over 20 years that we hadn’t had one. Now, the reality of living with a puppy and training her is fully eclipsing our lives. Stella is a 16th birthday present for my daughter, who wants to train her to be a therapy dog. The puppy has already been going to the nursing home with us to visit my mom and the other residents, and she obviously loves it. She has a natural attraction to people, whether they are old and in a wheelchair or little and sitting in a stroller. I am very grateful that she has such a sweet and gentle way with everyone.

That said, she is also a puppy. When Stella arrived, she got sick with a parasite called coccidia that probably came from her mother. It’s been a big challenge, involving medication and vomiting in the crate in the middle of the night. Fortunately, she appears to have gotten over it. She has also become more comfortable and settled in as a member of our family. Now, Stella is trying to figure out her place in the pecking order of the pack. She’s testing us, along with teething, and we’ve nicknamed her “piranha pup”.

Meanwhile, out in the barn, some of us are feeling very neglected, with good reason. Each time I come out the back door, instead of heading to fill water buckets or dispense flakes of hay, I now have a little black creature in tow and I’m focused on whether she is peeing or pooping. “Good dog, good job!” doesn’t sound anything like “Good horse!” to my girls, who are standing at the fence, heads hanging over forlornly. Silk is mastering the art of the guilty stare. My husband even came into the family room yesterday and said, “Silk needs you right now.” I rushed out to reassure her that she is still number one in my heart and that this puppy fussing will stop eventually.

Just like when Siete was a foal, we are at a critical stage with this little dog. How we treat her every moment will shape the kind of responses that she will have to everything in the world as she grows up. Doing it now, while she is only fifteen pounds is much easier than when she is 50 or 80 pounds. If I can convince two 1200 pound horses to trust me and respect me and love to spend time with me, I can teach this puppy what she needs to know to navigate through this world happily and successfully.

What I am reminded over and over, even in the middle of the night when Stella wakes us up and has to go out, is that the key to getting along with anyone is your energy. If I am grumpy and resentful about having to stagger outside in the pitch black in my pyjamas at 2 am, the puppy won’t want to “do a good job” and will start getting all revved up and nip at my ankles. When I am as Zen calm as I can possibly be, she will curl up on my foot and sleep while I drink my coffee at 5:30 am.

But just like it felt when I was waking up several times each night and nursing my human baby sixteen years ago, I also remember how exhausted, cranky and fragile I am when I’m sleep deprived. Be careful what you wish for, you just might get it.

So, let me go on record that I wish for a harmonious, relaxed home with calm, satisfied people and animals who love each other.

Meet Stella

We have a new member of our family - Stella, This is a photo taken after her very long ride up to New England from Tennessee. Her mama is a Welsh Springer Spaniel named Zoe and her papa is a Black Labrador Retriever named Rocky. They are both great dogs. And Stella is 100 % wonderful! You may remember that our beloved Pepper was the same mix only her mom was a black lab and her dad was a Springer. It took us two years to find another dog with that good combo. My daughter is going to train Stella to be a therapy dog and take her to children's hospitals and nursing homes. We can tell that she's got the personality for it. She loves everyone and is a snuggle expert even at this early age.

That's all for now, but you'll be hearing and seeing more of this little angel soon. She's full of joy and just what we needed.

Go See "Buck" Now!

Go see “Buck” right now. It’s in over 200 movie theatres around the country and it will make you feel so good. Director Cindy Meehl has never made a movie but after her second clinic with Buck Brannaman, she decided that she had to share what he taught her with as many people as she could. It's about people and their hopes and fears and anger and how the horses are wise enough to be able to heal them.

I hope that Cindy does incredibly well with this movie because it will help enormously to change people's views about horses and about not being ruled or tormented by what has happened in the past - allowing us all to move on.

I am so impressed by Guy Mossman, who is one of the cinematographers, and also shot the video I made up in Vermont a couple of summers ago about the family farm and Eco Apples. His work on “Buck” is breathtaking, allowing you to feel that you are right in the middle of what is happening. I was fortunate that Cindy Meehl's local movie theatre is also mine, so I was able to meet her and listen to her talk about making the movie. It is something that she can really be proud of accomplishing after many years of work.

In my own little corner of the world, things are really good around here right now - please don’t let me jinx anything! I can’t believe it’s been a month since I wrote a blog post, but I was getting tired of complaining and telling you about hoof and leg problems. So, at last, both horses are healed, and I am gradually getting over my back injury. I pinched a nerve when I was bailing out the barn after one of our Spring floods, but let’s not go back there anymore.

I will be blogging more frequently, I’m sure, since we are about to have something very exciting happen this Wednesday. So, I’ll be filling you in on that later in the week.

In the meanwhile, I’ll leave you with this thought from Buck Brannaman:

“Over the years, I’ve come across plenty of people who criticize me because they subscribed to the old-school methods of dominating a horse. They worked a horse as if they were going to war with it. And they were. If that’s the way you deal with your horses, it’s the way you deal with your fellow man as well. I just can’t subscribe to that primitive notion of forcing your will on a horse or a human…”
- From “Believe” by Buck Brannaman