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Finding Tikha: Journey to a Horse
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Part One
Val
Hampson, MA
First in a series on a midlife woman’s journey to find her first horse.
Tikha –
n.
1. the Mongolian word for horse, also the word for spirit.
The search for my first horse has turned into more of an adventurous
journey than I imagined. In my naiveté, I thought some searching on an
internet ad site and ‘putting out the word’ would put me in contact with
the horse who would be the right one for me. And so it
shall….eventually. Rather than my imagined short, straightforward
search, it has become a process, a journey of laughter and tears and
growth.
....
Horse
possibilities get winnowed down by my need for a big, strong horse who
would be suitable for my riding level of an intermediate novice. I
quickly learned to leave out the word intermediate and just say novice,
maybe even a horse you would put your small child on. Apparently, some
folks think intermediate novice means one is ready for a barrel race or
showing in dressage or perhaps a little jumping.
First to see was Ricochet, a beautiful sorrel and white tobiano Paint.
He was a charming horse and won my heart more than any so far. He
engaged enthusiastically with me, sniffing me all over and looking at me
with bright and curious eyes. I like to let horses sniff me if they seem
safe and not too aggressive, i.e., not likely to bite. I’ll gently blow
my breath towards them. I know they like to get to know other horses and
humans that way, though most humans prefer to maintain their
human-is-not-animal decorum.
Ricochet was a big horse, nearly 17hh. He was dancing and prancing when
his owner brought him into the outdoor arena. She said he hadn’t been
ridden for awhile. This seems to be common in my search. I wonder why
people who are selling a horse don’t ride him/her before and during the
selling process. Otherwise, they’re always saying, “He’s not really like
this.” Well, how do I know that for sure? Tales of the dishonesty of
horse sellers abound.
The owners were all ready to saddle up Ricochet after a quick longe and
have me start riding. I find this to be true almost everywhere. It’s
like the horse is a vehicle and just get on and go. In fact, most people
spend more time looking a car over before driving than a horse before
riding. The mom seemed happily surprised that I wanted to get to know
him a bit first.
I
did ask to spend some time with Ricochet, so we groomed him and talked.
After longeing him, a family- the next potential buyers- arrived and
watched. Time to mount up. I eyed a somewhat rotted picnic bench half
buried in the sand which was the mounting block. Here in midlife, I have
a great gratitude for mounting blocks. This one only promised about 8
inches of lift. I grabbed hold and stepped up. I didn’t realize the
saddle was loose up on the top, though the girth was tight. The saddle
shifted a few inches and I lost my momentum, such that it was, and
fell….onto the rotted bench which flipped and broke beneath me. The
other buying family looked on deadpan. I grew some eggplant colored
bruises for a few weeks, but was otherwise ok. It was the first, but not
the last, embarrassment I was to incur during the Horse Shopping
Process.
Being in midlife, a larger rider, and always chasing that elusive state
called “in shape” (which I have begun to suspect has a certain mirage
quality to it), I find I have to face uncomfortable issues head on with
strangers who may or may not be friendly. I am used to being sure of my
degree of excellence in many areas of my life. I am a quick learner and
talented in many arenas. Now, suddenly, I have to expose my
vulnerabilities immediately.
To
save myself, the horse and the owner problems, I tell them I am a novice
and downplay my hard earned equestrian skills. Most of my riding has
been done with one horse- my very dear horsefriend, old and wise
teacher, 16hh Appy lesson horse, Jake.
Mysteriously and with great frustration on my part, my riding skills do
seem to vary greatly from horse to horse. Sometimes, I am able to ride
well; I connect without much difficulty. Other times, I can’t catch the
rhythm of the horse or I find my use of aids that were effective on some
horses to be useless on others and then I feel like a nearly complete
beginner. Uncomfortable doubts and fears of inadequacy visit me.
There isn’t the time or the guidance to work through the rough spots
with each horse, only to process the experience. I am often left
wondering how much of it was my skills or mood and in what way, how much
was the horse’s training, body style, emotions and spirit, and how much
was the influence of the owner’s emotions and behavior who is usually
standing nearby? And what about the horses that I seem to ride well and
connect with right away? Why is that? I can never know “how much”, but I
can reflect on all these factors and tease out some of the parts.
When calling the sellers to discuss a horse, I tell the sellers, perfect
strangers, that I need a horse with strong bones that can support a
bigger rider. There’s no sense in my schlepping over there to see a
horse that is too small or delicate. I have to deal with my discomfort
about this right up front, again and again.
Nor is it easy to share the details of the search process and my
vulnerabilities on the published page. After all, just what might people
think?
I
do it for other horse people - the many thousands of midlife riders,
adult beginners, backyard horse folk who may feel the necessity of false
bravado with their peers and trainers and who dare not share their
vulnerabilities, sometimes even to themselves. I do it for the horses,
for their dignity and that people might know a more soulful way of being
with them. And, mostly, I do it for me, trusting that it is a part of my
growth path.
Through it all, there is a force that pushes me forward in this life
with horses. There have been many moments when I think, as my muscles
and bones protest and the hour glass of life quickens the flow of sand
more to the bottom than the top, “What am I doing, here at the brink of
50, changing my life 180 degrees to horses and riding?”
The answer is because I can’t not do it. There is a force bigger
than me sweeping me along whenever I fear too much. Like some ministers
are called to a life in the pulpit, I feel the spirit of horse and
Spirit call me to this work with them.
And, yes, I did ride Ricochet. The owner trundled out a sturdy, taller
garden bench and I mounted up. Ricochet actually was a very nice fellow
to ride; we had a nice connection. I could feel that he had a lot of
energy coiled inside and really wanted to move fast. I had the strong
sense that it would be some years before that energy would settle down.
One of my special gifts with horses, and other animals, is that
sometimes I just know things about them. They communicate things to me
in the spirit way. Sometimes, it is their emotions, desires, health and
bodily issues, a message, something energetic or of their spirit. It
comes to me as a knowing, or a sensation or image.
I
had the knowing that Ricochet wanted a person who would run with him. I
did not want to have to hold him back all the time. This fellow did not
feel like he was wanting slow hacks and schooling sessions with a
midlife rider. He would get frustrated and perhaps let loose one day.
And so, I drove away with tears in my eyes because I loved his open,
engaging horse spirit.
With 50,000 horses on the internet site, there were more horses to see.
And I always love meeting horses.
Next time in Part Two… the horse that wasn’t home.
Val Hampson, MA,
is a writer, horsewoman, educator, energy and qigong practitioner, psychotherapist,
and editor of Equus Spirit. Contact her at
valh@equusspirit.com
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