Photo courtesy jhusemannde |
Why do we always feel like we have to accomplish something? Tick off a box or cross out an item on a to-do list? Do you allow yourself to have some “chillin’ time”? What do you do—or stop doing?
Tank's favorite way to chill |
Fannin Hill, 2012. Photo courtesy Holly Bryan |
What dream are you willing to pay the price for?
- Appreciate what we have. Stop and look at what we’ve just achieved or received. Take it in. Isn’t it wonderful that we have this thing we have longed for for so long? Bask in the feeling and say a little thank you to the universe. It’s very easy to get caught up in the details, both good and bad, adjust to the new reality, and forget the work and sacrifices it took to get what we wanted.
- Don’t make comparisons with others. Since I came to horses as an adult—and a none-too-athletic one—my skills have grown more slowly than the young girls I often ride with. If I compared myself to them, I’d become dissatisfied with my experience, when what I have is all I ever wanted. If I compare my marriage, my relationship with my son, or my career with others’, I can become discouraged that what I have isn’t as outwardly “good.” Every person has his or her own abilities, challenges, lucky (or unlucky) breaks, and so on. And what we see from the outside is rarely the whole story. As Theodore Roosevelt said, “Comparison is the thief of joy.”
- Keep growing and learning. So we have this new thing/relationship. Now what? Is that the ultimate? How can we enhance and improve whatever-it-is? Growing and learning are what life’s all about. To return to my relationship with Tank, over the past 10 years I’ve spent most of my time learning, from the simple things (how to groom a horse or post a trot) to the more complex (how to “speak horse” or use tiny movements of my body to control where he goes and how fast).
Since it's an anniversary, will there be (carrot) cake? |
During the past few weeks as I’ve worked through a bout of depression, I’ve been learning ways to manage and uplift my mood. I’ve discovered that I wake up feeling fairly cheerful, but crash around
Note: This week I did my annual clipping job on Tank, so I'm rerunning the post I wrote about our equine spa services on Oct. 1, 2010. It wasn't nearly so much fun this year because I had to do all the treatments by myself--sure do miss my absent barn friends on days like this! Anyway, I'm still recovering from the process, so today's post will be a slightly-edited rerun.
My horse, who was born about five miles from where he lives now, apparently thinks he lives in Siberia. Every year in September he begins to grow a wooly winter coat suitable for life on the tundra. This is unfortunate, because we do not live in a tundra-like environment. We live in a tropical-rainforest-like environment: hot and sticky for much of the year. Once he’s grown his winter coat, he can be covered in sweat just from standing placidly in his paddock. If you add in a ride, he’s one soggy and overheated mess.
So every year at this time, knowing we have at least three more months of not-so-wintry weather, I pull out my trusty clippers and give him a whole body clip. (He immediately begins to regrow that winter coat, but by the time it comes in completely, he’ll need it for the few cold winter days we have.)
This year before clipping, we added a new service to salon day at the barn: hair color. Since our horses live outside, not in stalls, their manes and tails bleach in the sun. So before his bath and clip, Tank had his mane and tail dyed. (You can imagine how much we all enjoyed this.)
At work on Tank's tail--a two-person job |
Pitiful forelock |
Are you sure we have to do this? |
Tie up horse, and even though he’s still a little damp, you optimistically think there are some areas dry enough to start on. Begin clipping. Keep even pressure on the clippers so you have no gouged spots. Some people clip the legs first because they’re more technical (and ticklish) and it’s good to do them when you and the horse are fresh and your clipper blades are sharp. Some people start on the face. I personally like to see immediate progress, so I start somewhere I can see inroads, like the neck, chest or hindquarters. I also skip around when I get tired of working on one area, so my horse looks like nothing on earth until he’s completely done.
Making inroads |
Horse hair sticks to everything, so when you are done, you will be covered from head to foot with little pieces of hair. In fact, YOU will look like you need clipping. Turn your horse out or put him in his stall and offer him treats for being such a good boy. Go home, take a shower, pour yourself your adult beverage of choice and inform the family that dinner will come from the nearest pizza place that delivers.
The finished tail |
My brain is shooting off every which way today—so you’re going to get that kind of blog post: a hodge podge of thoughts and information. Often times I clear my head by talking or writing things out, so here goes. (Thanks for putting up with me.)
Pat Parelli and friends |
Para-Olympian Lauren Barwick |
Lauren is paralyzed from the waist down |
Playing the Sideways Game at liberty (with no lead rope) |
Linda Parelli with Hot Jazz |
Twice on Wednesday I found myself talking to someone about
how lucky I am. The first time, I was sitting on the back of my horse, talking
to my friend and trainer, Gayle, about how my experience with Tank has been one
of the best things in my whole life. We talked about how lucky I feel first to
even own a horse, and also to have one that I’ve been able to bond with so
closely. I mentioned that my life is so much better than I ever imagined it
being. Though I was speaking out of the emotion of the moment, glossing over
the pain and emotional storms I’ve weathered, it is true that I am lucky. If I
started to list the struggles and problems of my life, that lucky feeling would
certainly fade. It was then that I realized it’s my choice what version of my life to dwell on, and ultimately my
choice whether I feel “lucky” or not.
Lucky doing what he does best |