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Finding Tikha: Journey to a Horse
–
Part Three
Val
Hampson, MA
Third
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.
I was late to see Jim, the stocky, solid bay who
was described as calm and easy for a novice to ride. I had trouble
finding the arena. It was down a number of twisting forested roads and I
took a couple of wrong turns along the way, echoing this journey that
has become my horse search.
....
I did find the place and there was Jim, tied to a
trailer, sleeping on this cold, late winter day. There was a buddy tied
next to him, all tacked up, too. I poked my head into the arena and
found the horse owner, a dark curly haired woman named Janice who was
cordial, but business like. She had to cull Jim because she bred
Warmbloods and, well, Jim wasn’t. She brought him in and quickly free
longed him around the dark, dusty arena, then mounted and briskly warmed
him up. Like I said, this was business.
Jim and I didn’t have the time or
environment for much preliminary connection, so, after a quick hello, I
mounted and began walking around. Meanwhile, Janice is telling me that
Jim, the great novice horse, likes an experienced rider and will try to
take advantage of the rider if he can.
Jim and I were doing fine until she
starts yelling at me to let up on the reins. Jim wasn’t fussing, but,
figuring she knows her horse, I loosen the already relaxed reins. She
keeps saying it. Finally, I have no more arm left to let out. I look
like a sleepwalker from an old ghoul movie, except that I am sitting
astride Jim and my arms aren’t very high, just all stretched out. The
reins are hanging in a lazy arch. It’s getting harder to turn at all and
Jim is beginning to wander at will. No doubt, he’s wondering what’s
going on. The owner yells at me some more and I tell her I’m at the end
of my arms (and want to say I’m getting to the end of my rope with her
yelling). She tells me to grab the piece of rope dangling from the reins
and let go of them altogether. Well, Jim seemed innocuous and placid
enough, so I do. My steering capability with the reins is now completely
gone. Jim ambles around the arena some more and bends his head down like
he is going to scratch.
In a flash, he’s on his knees like a
prayer. I know what is coming and make a quick scramble to jump off, me
now yelling at him not to dare roll on me. I leap onto the soft dusty
footing, but my foot is stuck in the stirrup as Jim maneuvers himself
into a good roll position. I yell some more and yank my foot out of that
stirrup like it was on fire.
I knew in that moment that, for
whatever reason, Jim did not want to come home with me and I was now not
too keen on him, though I did not blame him. By giving up the reins, I
gave away my power to another person and gave up my leadership with Jim.
A good roll in that deep soft dust was too strong a temptation for a
horse. Especially when he had a sleepwalking ghoul on his back.
Janice is all flustered and keeps
saying he’s never done that before.
She asks me to go on a trail ride.
Now, that is too strong a temptation for me, as I rarely get to
go on one. I sidle up close to Jim who is now upright and tell him I am
not going to buy him and so would he be willing to give me the pleasure
of a short ride? I do not sense any tensing or moving away or ‘go away’
body language. He is relaxed, with his head slightly down and staying
close. I mount up again and feel him for a bit and he seems willing. I
firmly take up the reins, yet keep them reasonably relaxed. Jim and I
have no rein problems.
Janice mounts her other horse and off
we go into the crisp day. The sun is out and the air feels wonderful. It
is, as I often say, a great day to be a horse. And a glorious day to be
with a horse.
The arena is located on an eventing
course, so Janice proceeds to show me the various places on the course.
We pass impossibly high and wide jumps and stylized obstacles. Imagining
riding the course as an eventer is a scary thought. Janice starts
getting excited. Up a steep hill we go, then past dead winter grasses
and shrubs huddled against the cold.
What goes up must come down. We come
to a sheer drop. Janice asks me if I want to go down a trail that
immediately disappears over the edge. No, I say, thinking it could be
asking for trouble and I had enough dust in my mouth for one day, so we
go down a gentler slope further on. As we come down, Janice says, almost
in a conspiratorial whisper, that there are some white barrels ahead and
Jim might spook (on the pre-visit phone call, Jim never spooked). I send
Jim a relaxed image of white barrels and tell him it’s ok. He gives a
start at them, but is ok.
This is not called an eventing course
for nothing. Beyond the barrels is a shallow lake feature for jumping
and fording. It is covered with ice on this chilly day. Janice gives her
reluctant horse a couple of kicks and trots in, the ice breaking with
glass shattering sounds. Her horse is looking alarmed at the sound and
the breaking ice. She pushes the mare along and tells me it’s fine to
come on, like it’s a balmy July day at the beach. Jim is looking
worriedly at the glassy ice sound, too. I tell him to quit worrying
because we’re not going in it. I couldn’t see the purpose in it for
either one of us. In another situation, it might be more important to
cross the frozen lake, but not here and now for me with a horse I don’t
know. I use my legs and my reins to move him to the right around
the prickly spot. I feel him relax and almost say, “Your leadership
might be ok. It might even benefit me!”
Janice decides to do some barrel work
with her horse while Jim and I trot and walk around the grounds. Then,
it’s time to go and I thank Jim for the ride, but keep my promise that I
will not buy him. Even though the trail ride went well, neither he nor I
really want to team up.
The exposure to several different
horses and the styles of their owners was teaching me a lot about
horses, horse people, and my own horse skill. Even more, it was
revealing more to me about myself, like assertion with the horse people,
not just the horse; confidence in my own intuition and observation;
mental/emotional/spiritual and physical communication with the horse;
human and equine energy and their interaction; and more.
In particular, I have become
intrigued by the agreements I can make with horses, how they understand
them and how we both honor them. When I ask for a horse’s agreement,
when we make a pact, it is important to listen for the horse’s response.
Watch the horse’s body language and feel for changes in the horse’s
tension, muscles and energy. Feel changes in your body as they may be
important messages about the agreement. Take special note of any images
that come to mind. Be ready for any needed changes on your or the
horse’s part as you proceed with the agreement. Agreements are dynamic,
fluid, and need to be monitored as internal and external circumstances
change. And always keep your end of the deal. S/he is not just a horse;
you are a team, partners. If you don’t keep your word, a seed of
mistrust is sown.
Try arriving at agreements with your
horse and send me your results, not just in terms of the external result
of the agreement, but also how you communicated and arrived at the
agreement. I think you will be amazed at what can happen and how willing
your horse is to enter into agreement, especially when s/he is fully
considered, listened to, and a true partner in the process.
It was sinking in that this horse
hunt was going to be a longer journey than I realized. And finding
tikha, horse and spirit, was not going to happen just with a signed
check and a horse loaded into a trailer to come home, but was happening
along the quest and inside me.
Next time, the horse that got away…
Val Hampson, MA,
is EAGALA certified and a writer, horsewoman, educator, energy and qigong practitioner, psychotherapist,
and editor of Equus Spirit. Contact her at
valh@equusspirit.com
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