An American Paint Horse, and Me

I met a horse. A big guy, but only about fifteen hands high, with the most beautiful soulful eyes, deep with intelligence. At first, he was more interested in the other horses as they showed up. But then we made eye contact, had some interaction, and he was ready to see what I was about. A thousand-pound buddy. For months, a voice in my head relentlessly murmured about my need to bond with a horse or horses. The depth of feeling, the soul connection, was what I had been hungry for. A good horse that has been treated kindly won’t betray.

           I never expect my wishes to fall into place, but this one did. During a friendly discussion at a holiday gathering, the subject of horses came up. I mentioned my yearning for a connection with horses. Boom, I was given the name of a trainer, not far from me, who teaches horsemanship.  She turned out to be a treasure of information and understanding, and her horses - my dream come true. The gratitude I feel for the opportunity to meet Jane Mitchell, an intelligent, kind, and capable trainer, is immeasurable. Same is the feeling I have for her horse. 

Smiley is an American Paint Horse. A breed known for intelligence and a calm, relaxed personality. After a year of injury, surgery, low energy, disappointment, and the soul-depleting, never-ending fear for our democracy, that chance conversation at a Christmas gathering was the first step in shaking me out of feeling dispirited. Horses don’t seem to suffer fools. They vet you in their own way and decide if they want to trust. Smiley’s trainer was patient, and I was careful to follow her suggestions. No eye contact to start, stand a few feet away while holding the lead, and wait for the horse to make the first move. Then scratch those spots they can’t reach, the withers, under the chin, and below the ears, for starters.   Smiley began to trust me.

         I am not new to the charm of horses. My family owns a cattle ranch, about three hours away. Now, quads and ATVs have mostly taken the place of horses. But then, the work was done on horseback. My cousin and I are about the same age, and we were kids when she taught me how to ride. Of course, I spent as much time as I could with her, exploring the ranch, but mostly loving the relationship with horses. This was way before the time-consuming college and boyfriend years. But before that, my horseback experiences were stellar.  I’ll share one.

        Mitzi was a quarter horse, trained to gather and separate cattle. When I was about fourteen years old, I had the chance to join a “roundup”. It was a huge gathering of experienced local cowboys where the cattle were rounded up, brought into pens to be castrated, and the young ones not yet branded were introduced to the pain of it. Their bawling was heartbreaking. The actual branding and separating the calves from their mothers was barbaric and horrifying to me, so when the animals were all collected, I disappeared.  I couldn’t let my feelings show, or I’d be blacklisted.

        Several seasoned ranch hands helped, all horseback, and leathered up. I was last in the lineup for the tack room, and the saddles were all taken. So, it was bareback riding for me, and I didn’t mind a bit. We headed out, and wow, did I ever feel special to be included. Mitzi was so much better at the task than I. She spotted the first cow that dared to veer off, away from the herd, and she shifted gears. She pivoted to the right and hit high speed in an instant. I barely held on. It was so exciting to be riding this horse who knew her job and didn’t care if I was on board. “Along for the ride”. What a thrill.

       Now, I have met Smiley. His attention helped me rekindle some wonderful memories of horsemanship and that amazing feeling of being in synch with a huge animal. It’s pure enchantment. Did you know, when a horse trusts a human, and you hug them heart to heart your heartbeats synchronize?  If you hold on long enough, the feeling of well-being and relaxation is amazing.

        For the last few months, I have been purging. Closets, shelves, the attic, and the garage weren’t safe from me. Boxes were loaded, waiting for the Disabled American Veterans’ van to grab them up. It was cleansing. I feel lighter. Now, I understand the impulse. It is nearly the year of the Fire Horse. According to the Chinese Lunar calendar, we should experience transformation, the need to shed, and prepare for abundance. So, of course, we are shedding; we need to make room for new opportunities. I plan to compare what is important and what is a habit, then make a choice.

I share my experience to suggest that you readers who are feeling desperate, think about and list those times when you were boundlessly happy. This might help you find a way to lighten the heaviness. In your mind, recreate those happy activities and see if you can reengage, in thought or action. Start feeling calm, then move into pleased, up to happy, then excited for what comes next.