Unblocked

I’ve been stuck. For the last month, I’ve been forcing myself to work on this book that I’ve been forever writing, and I have just felt so bogged down in it. The little evil critic that lives in my head has been very busy. Each page that I’ve managed to type is pure torture. So, for the last week, I just stopped trying to slog ahead. In fact, I seriously considered giving up on it. I was sure that I would never have another good idea in my life.

It was also my birthday last Tuesday, and everywhere I turned there were these unsettling reminders that I was getting old. Even my body, which is normally very resilient, felt so tired and stiff. I had a lovely, rather uneventful birthday. One of the best things was that a dear friend made me a piece of wearable art that she has strung on a braided cord. Just wearing this talisman of her love and friendship has made me feel better. I also went into New York City on Saturday to have lunch with another close friend and to be interviewed for the New York Women In Film and Television Archives about the early days of the organization and about my career. It forced me to look back over what I’ve done and to formulate some words of wisdom for young women who are trying to follow a trail in that tough business. Mostly, it gave me some much-needed perspective on where I am now.

I’m knee deep in old, crunchy leaves, which makes for a perfect metaphor. I don’t know if anyone else feels this way, but this autumn. there seems to be at least double the number of fallen leaves as ever before. We are drowning in huge piles of brown, dead foliage. I’ve been avoiding the odious job of gathering them up and dragging them to the way back to the compost pile. We made two big heaps in the pasture, which are particularly heavy because there’s some old hay in them. Every day, I announce that I am going to get rid of those leaves no matter what. And no matter what, I don’t.

Siete has been like a little kid, running through the piles and throwing the leaves up in the air. She’s managed to completely dishevel all of the work that we had done. My husband pointed out to me that it’s going to rain heavily tonight, so I went out there this morning on a mission. As soon as I started to rake the leaves on to a tarp, my little horse rushed over and stood in the center of them. “My leaves!” she announced. I was sorry to have to take away her fun, but bundling them up when they are a soggy, weighted down mess is not easy.

In my head, I kept hearing the lyrics to this Van Morrison song, appropriately called “When the Leaves Come Falling Down”. “Follow me down, follow me down, to the space before the twilight and the dawn”. Before the twilight, is the magic hour, where the light is golden and full of promise. And recently, when I wake up at 5 am, I’ve been noticing how incredibly dark the sky is in the moments right before the sun comes up.

As I raked, I realized that I have been wandering around for the last month with the fallen leaves completely obscuring my path. I started thinking about how that dark time before dawn can be either scary or comforting. It can bring up all my fears, or it can soothe and offer me rest and renewal. Moving the leaves somehow released me, and I had the urge to run back into the house to the computer to start writing again. There’s a faint path, not well traveled, but I’m going to stumble along it and see where it goes.

Off to See the Wizard

It was an unexpected delight to see everyone dressed in costume when I visited my mom at the nursing home last Thursday. These folks really take Halloween seriously, planning their costumes and the party from year to year. The nurses and doctors and almost all the people working there, including the therapy dog, were very imaginative and enthusiastic about it. I just missed a parade of children from a local pre-school who came to trick or treat. The residents were given candy to hand out, and also got to choose their own costumes from an impressive and huge selection. My mother was dressed as a Wizard when I walked in and having the time of her life. I haven’t seen her that happy in years. What a change from a couple of months ago, and what a relief for me to know that she’s enjoying her new life.

Silk is also doing better. It’s been just below freezing the last couple of nights, but I decided to hold off from blanketing the girls. Even though I dragged the rugs out to the barn, I changed my mind at the last minute. They are growing thick winter coats and there wasn’t any wind, so I opted to wait until it gets colder. This morning, they both seemed fine, although I wasn’t smart enough to blanket myself with a heavier coat and some gloves and it was pretty chilly. The water buckets iced up yesterday, so I replaced them with the heated ones. Both horses drank a lot last night, since they love their “tea”.

I was reflecting on how fast the time has gone as I gave Silk and Siete some extra hay to get their furnaces going. It seems like I was just doing this last winter, and here I am back at it again. We lit our first fire in the fireplace on Sunday night, which made me really miss not having my mother at home with us. She loves sitting in front of the fire. Old rituals will be replaced this year with new ones, as the holidays approach. I’ve been trying hard not to miss what has passed, whether it’s warm summer days in the garden or little things that my mom and I liked to do together around here that we can't do anymore. Each time I do them by myself, I try to find a way to honor her without sadness. The Halloween party at the nursing home helped remind me that they also have their traditions up there, which are fun and joyful. It will be up to our family to expand ourselves to join in and create new rituals that we can share together this year.

In the early darkness this morning, Silk was so soft, and rubbing my cold hands on her furry neck, I vowed to accept whatever happens next with a spirit of openness and thanks. Things are different around here, but that doesn’t mean that they aren’t getting better.

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.