Risk

I've always been super conservative when it comes to riding horses. I like to do a lot of walking before trotting, a lot of trotting before cantering, and I can't remember the last time I galloped a horse anywhere. I think I may have been around 16. So I don't know who was at the helm of my brain when I trotted my horse full out toward a low-hanging branch on one of the trails in my neighborhood.

Could it have been the person who is evolving into someone else as a result of the Touched By a Horse EGC Method certification program? I can actually feel myself changing. I'm starting to understand that we all have a light that shines, and hiding it under a bushel basket is detrimental to all the good that can come from that light. That giving workshops and coaching people with my equine co-facilitators is something that can help other people shine their light, too. Maybe it was this person, the one who is starting to risk thinking she can have a career that allows her to be around horses and make a living.

However, that person is still reveling in the ability to do anything remotely resembling a risk, and hasn't quite figured out when to hold 'em and when to fold 'em. Trail - branch - rapidly trotting horse. Definitely a fold 'em situation. But noooooo. The branch didn't look that big. I was betting on it being fairly easy to push out of the way as we went by.

Wilma ducked, smoothly gliding right under it. And me? I realized, as it started to sweep me off my horse, that the branch was quite a bit more substantial than I had bargained on. Uh oh. Life began moving along in slow motion as I leaned to the left, hands still on the reins, trying to keep myself within proximity of the saddle and hopefully recover my balance. It moved slower still when it occurred to me that I was gazing at Wilma's left shoulder as she slowly turned in a circle and tried to keep us both upright while I hung on to the reins, and that she couldn't straighten out because I was sliding closer to the ground and taking her head with me. Ground looked pretty close at that point. Released the reins. Horse gratefully straightened out. Boink. Bum hit the dirt. Horse stared at me in relief and disbelief, letting me know that despite me she had managed to stay on her feet, and how COULD I do that to her?

Excellent question, one that I will ponder for some time to come. Was the risk worth the tumble? I was lucky. I have a strong, stout horse, and both my feet slipped out of the stirrups, although finding the right stirrup draped over the top of the saddle had me wondering just how far I'd gone before stirrup and foot parted company. Another lucky thing was that my treeless saddle actually stayed on top of the horse, a strong testimony to the excellent design (www.promisefarmandalusians.com/fhoenixhome.html - tell them Ashara sent you). 

I'm fine, stupid meter working overtime notwithstanding; Wilma is fine, and got a full body massage and shower when we got home (along with countless apologies, again. Thank goodness she loves me). No real harm done. As I said, I was lucky. A small failure in the sensible decisions department, and I live to try again. Kind of like life.

The bottom line - Risk is good; however, make sure you have a clear understanding of the risk before you run at it headlong, and if you're not sure, slow down. You'll still get there, and you won't have a sore bum.

Nothing Happening Here

I wish! Been really busy getting ready for the workshop on August 5th. More about that later, though....

I've been reading Linda Kohanov's book "The Tao of Equus." Fascinating stuff, I highly recommend it for pretty much anyone, horse lover or not. Among many other things, she discusses doing nothing with her horses, as in she just hangs out with them and soaks in life. Through doing nothing, she gained valuable insights and a constantly deepening relationship with her equine companions.

The other day I tried this. I had no idea how busy I can make myself. I've always considered myself fairly laid back, able to avoid doing anything quite skillfully. So I figured, how hard can this be? I threw a bareback pad on my equally laid-back Wilma, hopped on and took her out to the pasture so she could graze and I could just sit there and do nothing.

Except....I found myself getting impatient with how long it would take Wilma to decide a particular patch of grass was eaten enough and move on to another. I started seeing things in the pasture I thought deserved a closer look. I wondered if the fence on the other end of the pasture had indeed been removed and wanted to find out. Hey, Wilma, let's go look at that...

Excellent teacher that she is, Wilma pretty much ignored my attempts to get her to move until I was just so annoying she would shuffle forward a few feet and then quite emphatically plant her hooves. We did this several times until it occurred to me what I was doing. I was being BUSY. This was not the same as doing NOTHING.

I got on Wilma with the agreement that we would do nothing together. She could graze, I'd sit there and enjoy the scenery from her broad back. And then I broke the agreement by trying to move her to (what I thought was) a better patch of grass, or over there to that weed that maybe I could pluck while sitting on her. She was quite content to let things flow. "Busy, busy human, just enjoy the sun and being together and get on with doing nothing!" My mare is always kind with her reprimands.

So I stopped directing, started flowing, and just sat there. I let my mind idle as I listened to the birds, and realized just how often planes fly over our house and disturb the silence. I watched Wilma choose the tastiest pieces of grass and pull them into her mouth, and reveled in the contentment created by her munching. I felt the sun on my back. I guess I was still a little busy with all this observation, but at least I let Wilma alone. It's a start.

Workshop - the eight-letter four-letter word

Remember a while back I was saying “no, no, NO” to doing a workshop? The power of N-O. Begone, workshop, from my presence!! All good stuff. I gave myself permission to take care of myself, instead of trying to please someone else. Totally appropriate, and perfect for where I was at that moment.

Here’s the next chapter in that adventure. A little backstory: My husband’s job was reclassed, meaning that the entire scope of his position in the department in which he works, changed. Oops, not a good fit any more! He is a valued contributor, so the company wants to keep employing him. Unfortunately, this time of year positions that suit his particular talents are still in planning stages. Lots of potential, just not right now. So, since he’s got quite a bit of time in on the job, he’s taking a sabbatical. No money, but he’s still an employee and maintains his seniority, vacation, and pay level. The idea is that jobs will be opening up in a month or three/four/five, and one of them will be perfect for him. This is a rather long-winded way of saying that at the moment, we’re living on savings and one paycheck.

Since our belts have by necessity tightened up a little bit, I offered to miss my next CORE to save the airfare to Denver, if it came to that. Every dollar counts.

Then I reflected a little. I had some stock I could sell to come up with the airfare if need be; that would be easy. I was a little reluctant , though. What if we needed that money for something else, like hay for the horses, or some emergency repair? What else could I do?

Then it came to me (and since you are a smart audience, I’m sure you’ve been there for at least a paragraph or two).

I’ll do a one-day WORKSHOP.

Just like that, my mindset about workshops did a 180. This level of commitment is something I’ve grappled with forever – coming up with a solution that takes me out of my comfort zone, and could potentially fail. The easy out was to use money from stocks and deal with other expenses as they arose. The growth path is just stepping up and doing the darn workshop. It will be fun; we’re going to explore which “you” shows up at work (since we all have lots of roles and masks we put on and take off all day long), and then find out which “you” is looking for fulfilling work, the kind that has you jumping out of bed in the morning, raring to go. Is that “you” the same person who shows up at the office or warehouse or store? The horses are going to have a blast helping people discover their real “you”!

And me? I’ll have a blast doing the workshop!