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.