Horse Whispering for the Average Woman
There are choices in life that substantially alter life’s journey: marriage, children, graduate school are a few of these forks in our path. But one I didn’t expect was riding horses.
“This is not hard,” one trainer told me as I fumbled with the rope and training stick for the thousandth time. “It’s like a dance with your partner.” I can’t dance.
I got on and just held on for the first few years, riding trails in the North Carolina mountains and piedmont, grinning from ear-to-ear. We rode lickety-split, fast and furious; the ride most important. But the road in this life journey kept meandering. I learned more about this live sport vehicle and found the ‘horse’ under me. I learned basic round pen work, ground manners, and horse behavior. I truly thought I knew something. Buzzwords like partnership and leadership were tossed around by national trainers. I added to my ‘expertise’ with reading, videos, and clinics. I thought I knew.
Much later I took riding lessons. There is a basic truth about ‘feel’ in the horse world, a sense of communication between the horse and the person. I didn’t feel a thing. I concentrated on timing; learning and experiencing the difference between positive reinforcement and negative reinforcement (which most get confused); coordinating cues from my leg, seat, and hands. Bits are not for braking; hands and reins are used last, not first. Saddle fit is crucial; bit size and comfort just as much. I maintained unbridled enthusiasm and dogged persistence for learning to do things better. I got discouraged and wanted to quit. My horses told on me.
And then I wrenched my knee!
Often I get off my horse while riding and walk for an hour on the trail, combining my exercise with his. One afternoon, while hiking with my youngest silver dapple gelding, I stepped on a loose rock and twisted painfully to the ground. Nugget looked down at me like, “and what are you doing down there?” But I couldn’t get up, couldn’t put weight on that leg, and I was a mile or two from the parking lot. I sat there waiting for the pain to subside.
There comes a time when you have to reach down and find inner strength. Luckily this situation was not life-threatening, but sitting on a trail, back on a poplar tree, mid-afternoon in early spring, unable to walk out is still daunting. I heard no other riders; it would be dark in two or three hours. Cell phone connection was spotty; it would take hours for the rangers find me.
Nugget’s training was in-progress. I wasn’t sure how he would handle what I was going to ask him to do. I got up, hopped on my good leg, asked him to be still next to a log. I put all my faith into this young gelding and asked for a ‘stand.’ He stood. I held tight to the saddle, put my foot in the stirrup, raised my hurt leg over his back, and heard a loud ‘pop’ of the tendon in my knee. Nugget stood still. “Nugget, we’re going to walk back. Let’s count cadence.” And he stepped off, went carefully through the creek, and walked up the hill. I counted, ‘One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight,” to each step…. slowly. Nugget stayed under me, stayed in my hand. He carried me to the parking lot and up to friends, which was new for Nugget. They helped me off; again, new for Nugget, and helped us get home.
You cannot differentiate between riding and the rest of your life. What it takes to ride and train well is also what it takes to lead the life you most want to lead. It includes humility, patience, compassion, assertiveness, and emotional control. It includes a softness in focus, slowing down and staying centered, being mindful in the moment. It means staying with it until the horse gives to your hand and praise, praise, praise. It means getting up and practicing, taking one step forward and two steps back. It means knowing the horse’s herd culture and communicating with that culture in mind.
Now healed, I have a different instructor, one who is helping me continue forward, filling the holes in my horsemanship, building on what I’d learned with much ‘fine tuning.’ She takes my ‘can’t dance’ and is willing to ‘shampoo, rinse, and repeat” breaking tasks down into smaller steps for both the horse and I as often as it takes us to get it. I can almost feel that ‘feel.’
Copyright 2019, Janet K. Baxter
Baxter, J. (2019). Horse Whispering for the Average Woman, Exploring: Discoveries, Challenges. Adventure, Winston-Salem, NC: Personal Essay Publishing Project.
There are choices in life that substantially alter life’s journey: marriage, children, graduate school are a few of these forks in our path. But one I didn’t expect was riding horses.
“This is not hard,” one trainer told me as I fumbled with the rope and training stick for the thousandth time. “It’s like a dance with your partner.” I can’t dance.
I got on and just held on for the first few years, riding trails in the North Carolina mountains and piedmont, grinning from ear-to-ear. We rode lickety-split, fast and furious; the ride most important. But the road in this life journey kept meandering. I learned more about this live sport vehicle and found the ‘horse’ under me. I learned basic round pen work, ground manners, and horse behavior. I truly thought I knew something. Buzzwords like partnership and leadership were tossed around by national trainers. I added to my ‘expertise’ with reading, videos, and clinics. I thought I knew.
Much later I took riding lessons. There is a basic truth about ‘feel’ in the horse world, a sense of communication between the horse and the person. I didn’t feel a thing. I concentrated on timing; learning and experiencing the difference between positive reinforcement and negative reinforcement (which most get confused); coordinating cues from my leg, seat, and hands. Bits are not for braking; hands and reins are used last, not first. Saddle fit is crucial; bit size and comfort just as much. I maintained unbridled enthusiasm and dogged persistence for learning to do things better. I got discouraged and wanted to quit. My horses told on me.
And then I wrenched my knee!
Often I get off my horse while riding and walk for an hour on the trail, combining my exercise with his. One afternoon, while hiking with my youngest silver dapple gelding, I stepped on a loose rock and twisted painfully to the ground. Nugget looked down at me like, “and what are you doing down there?” But I couldn’t get up, couldn’t put weight on that leg, and I was a mile or two from the parking lot. I sat there waiting for the pain to subside.
There comes a time when you have to reach down and find inner strength. Luckily this situation was not life-threatening, but sitting on a trail, back on a poplar tree, mid-afternoon in early spring, unable to walk out is still daunting. I heard no other riders; it would be dark in two or three hours. Cell phone connection was spotty; it would take hours for the rangers find me.
Nugget’s training was in-progress. I wasn’t sure how he would handle what I was going to ask him to do. I got up, hopped on my good leg, asked him to be still next to a log. I put all my faith into this young gelding and asked for a ‘stand.’ He stood. I held tight to the saddle, put my foot in the stirrup, raised my hurt leg over his back, and heard a loud ‘pop’ of the tendon in my knee. Nugget stood still. “Nugget, we’re going to walk back. Let’s count cadence.” And he stepped off, went carefully through the creek, and walked up the hill. I counted, ‘One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight,” to each step…. slowly. Nugget stayed under me, stayed in my hand. He carried me to the parking lot and up to friends, which was new for Nugget. They helped me off; again, new for Nugget, and helped us get home.
You cannot differentiate between riding and the rest of your life. What it takes to ride and train well is also what it takes to lead the life you most want to lead. It includes humility, patience, compassion, assertiveness, and emotional control. It includes a softness in focus, slowing down and staying centered, being mindful in the moment. It means staying with it until the horse gives to your hand and praise, praise, praise. It means getting up and practicing, taking one step forward and two steps back. It means knowing the horse’s herd culture and communicating with that culture in mind.
Now healed, I have a different instructor, one who is helping me continue forward, filling the holes in my horsemanship, building on what I’d learned with much ‘fine tuning.’ She takes my ‘can’t dance’ and is willing to ‘shampoo, rinse, and repeat” breaking tasks down into smaller steps for both the horse and I as often as it takes us to get it. I can almost feel that ‘feel.’
Copyright 2019, Janet K. Baxter
Baxter, J. (2019). Horse Whispering for the Average Woman, Exploring: Discoveries, Challenges. Adventure, Winston-Salem, NC: Personal Essay Publishing Project.