imagery - AHAmoments

You know how memories or emotions can sneak up on you when you least expect them? Like a sneak attack? Sometimes happy, sometimes…not?

For instance, today, when I left my office building and entered the open air parking garage to drive home for lunch. The garage is where the smokers smoke. Every time I smell the distant, faint smell, I am immediately transported to the barn I used to take horseback riding lessons at. Where I first started. My instructor smoked. The lounge smelled of it. She smelled of it. The arena faintly smelled of it.

Sometimes, when I smell cigarette smoke, in fact most times, I think of negative things like cancer. Morbid, I know. Not in our parking garage though. I hear Dorthy’s voice calling out instructions during a lesson, in her raspy, characteristic voice. I think of the dusty arena and stall aisles. The golden light that shone through the barn boards and onto the shiny, clipped Saddlebreds as they ate in their stalls. I think of that lady who boarded her two Quarter Horses there. One of them was a gray mare. That kind lady would let me help her groom and sit on that mare’s back during my sister’s lesson. I often go back to the feeling of my favorite lesson of all time where I got to leave the indoor arena to have my lesson in one of two grassy turnouts out back. I do not remember the actual lesson. Maybe there was not really one. Maybe I just got to ride. That is what I remember. Riding. Just being with the horse, the sunlight, the grass, and the wind in the trees and the horse’s mane. I was riding Smokey, a gray gelding. It was over too fast. Maybe this is why I have always had a thing for grays. Those two favorites of mine at the barn. I was 7 or 8 at the time.

The sneak attack is not always a happy memory, is it? We had a big conference for work
last week and, if you remember, on the first day I spilled my coffee on my white shirt. I seem to have a problem with spilling on myself. You learn new things about yourself when you blog. Anyway, the first thing that came to mind was when you are trying to get the last of a drink in a cup full of ice. You know, when the ice holds tight to the base of the glass until you are convinced you are safe to enjoy the last sip, and then wham, out tumbling comes the ice in your face like boulders off a mountain. Major sneak attack, whether it is coffee or ice. I figured I would cover it up the best I could with my name tag and, if need be, use it as a good ice breaker for people coming up to the booth to talk.

That same day, during a short, slow stint in the booth, feeling self conscious about my coffee stain, I was blankly staring down the aisle at the various people wandering and talking. I caught sight of this man. He was talking to the people in a booth diagonally down a ways. I had a rear, 45 degree angle view on him. The first thing I realized when I clued into my thoughts was, is that my Uncle B? Everything came screeching to halt in my brain. If I had been drinking coffee, I might have spilled on myself again. This man had the same hair, clothes, height, stance, and profile as my Uncle from what I could see. The shock, sadness, and surprise came on me again all at once. Not dissimilar to the feeling when I saw his brother that looks exactly like him through a window on that day. Luckily for me last week, the feeling was fleeting.

I spoke with my mother about it when we went on a walk ride Sunday morning. I was not going to share it with her because I did not want to focus on the negative, I wanted to remember the positive. He would have been eager to hear how the conference went and what people were talking about the next time we got together. Were people getting hopeful or excited yet in the industry. Asking if I networked and met new people.

My mother was the one who brought it up. She was walking and I was riding. It is our thing. There was a lull in the conversation and we were together in the silence. I was remembering that moment at the conference the very second that my mother started to talk about him. Funny how that happens. We all are experiencing the same things in our own ways. We are never alone in anything that we go through. AHAmoment.

unnamed

Have you had any sneak attacks lately? Good or not so?

Walk in love, dear readers.

What is it about the horse?

It is something that has captivated people for ages.

I often get asked what it is about horses that…works for me. Why horses. What they do for me. It is something that seems to intrigue people who have never experienced it before. A more important question it seems than how I even got into horses. It is also something that is extremely hard to put into words or capture in a photo because it is feelings. Energy. Images. Memories. Mere words seem inadequate. Very much like love, I imagine.

unnamed-1 — Checking cows on Saturday with the best mare.

Maybe you have experienced a mere glimmer and could not quite put your finger on what was captivating you. Or maybe you have wondered about someone you know. Or maybe you have wondered about me.

The presence. The beauty. The grace. The calm. The teaching and learning. Everything seems simpler with the horse. Our problems are trivial. We have a tendency as humans to make everything more complicated than it is or needs to be. They give us perspective on how narrow our sight is. They show us who we really are on the inside. What our actions mean. They encourage us to be better at more than just riding. They make us get outside of our heads and ourselves. If we let them, they show us what quality living is and how to do it. What is real and important.

It reminds me of a time while in college I was legging up a polo pony doing trot sets.

It was winter and bitter cold. If there had been precipitation, there would have been snow and it would have stuck. I could not get out to the barn during the day I guess because of school work, so I had to ride at night. There were other people there, I remember, but they did not ride because of the dark cold. I almost did not go out because of the lack of day light, but I needed it. It was more than mere desire and passion.

I layered up from head to toe and went to catch up my pony, Daisy. As I was fastening her halter, I noticed the full moon and the glow of everything. A quick groom and tack up and we were trekking to the track in the back.

As we started to get warm trotting around, the mare began to rhythmically snort in stride with the work. You know how good working horses do. I could see her smokey breath commingle with mine against the dark night sky. She was excited, but yet, so was I. We were in tune. On the same page. Knew what the other was thinking without words in the way of the unspoken language.

We both got loose and relaxed in the work and then I looked up and actually saw. The moon and the distant city lights set the mare’s coppery, chestnut coat and pipe fence line on a rust colored fire. I could make out the curvature of the surrounding crop fields and pivots. I could see our tracks in the freshly groomed dirt. I could see all the other ponies in their turnouts staring at us in envy, ears pricked and eyes shining.

In that moment I knew what IT was all about.

I was not thinking about the cold. I was not thinking about all the work I had to do. I was not questioning the unknown of the future. I was not focusing on my anxiety. I was not thinking about missing home. I was no longer missing home. I was there. Present. Just me and the horse. The gift of the horse from God in this place from God. Words can not express the feelings I had in the moment or the gratitude I still feel for it.

All my worries were gone. I was on top of the world on Daisy’s back that cold, wintery night on the south plains. It was very much like that ride on Cheetah before the holidays.

Have you ever experienced anything like that? What is to you that horses are for me?

Walk in love, dear readers!

Thank you for the inspiration and imagery, Jeannine and Liz!