Riding on the Buckle
Any day off is a good day to spend at the barn. The large, beautiful ranch where my horses live, has hundreds of acres with arenas, trails, and even a racetrack. So, it’s not hard to guess where you will find me and most of my barn family on any holiday.
On Memorial Day, we gathered together for a trail ride. We were only five this year. Standing next to me is the Percheron cross Gunner, or Big Guns as I like to call him. He is an impressively strong and solid boy, with striking coloring that changes through the seasons and a heavy thick mane for days. Which seems appropriate as his owner Merrilee is a hair stylist with a full head of blonde hair and a big beautiful smile. Next to them is a smaller chestnut horse named Topa. He is smaller in stature but large in personality, renowned for his ability to play musical instruments with his mouth. He is ridden by Wendy, his lovely and kind owner. She is not only one of the most confident riders I know but also one of the nicest people I have ever met. Following close behind is the elegant duo of Dia and Lora. Dia is the Friesian and Tennessee Walking Horse cross I’ve mentioned before, who never fails to impress, in her wardrobe and in her elegant movement. Both horse and rider are long and lean and when you see them move together, they are breathtaking to behold. Herding us along is our trainer and fearless leader Pam, riding our friend Erin’s horse named Wesley. I call Wesley “Ty’s Dutch cousin”, as he is the Friesian and Lipizzaner cross that came over from the Netherlands with him. Wesley is big, beautiful, sweet, and slightly goofy in that way young and growing horses are.
And then there is me riding my gorgeous boy, Ty.
Once everyone is mounted up, we move out in formation, walking along the dirt road that runs between the barn to our left and the white picket fenced corrals to our right. As we pass the barn saloon, someone on the ground pulls out their phone to capture the moment. In the video you can see everyone wave happily to the camera as they walk along. Except me. I awkwardly remove one hand from the reins to wave before swiftly returning to my death grip. I am trying to smile, but it isn’t working.
I couldn’t seem to stop myself from being nervous. It was my first fully solo ride since my accident. No line, no trainer in my ear, just me and Ty riding alongside our friends. My shoulder and wrist are mostly healed though I am still working on regaining full strength and mobility. I felt vulnerable, with the images of what could go wrong flashing annoyingly through my head.
The day could not have been more perfect as the sun broke through the morning clouds and warmed us as we ambled along. The grounds are a bit greener than usual after the winter rains and the California toads have laid eggs in huge numbers. Tiny little toads, recently hatched and on their way to some mystery destination, scatter off the trail and out from under (most of the time) horse’s hooves. The seasonal pond, dry for most of the year, was still full and teeming with ducks and geese. And everywhere are ground squirrels and the newest crop of baby rabbits.
I was fully aware of how nice this all was for Ty. He was loving it and all he wanted to do was enjoy the sun, his herd of friends, the freedom of the trail. He was trying to move at a quicker pace, mostly to catch up with the fast moving Dia who he seems to have taken a shine to. But in my fear, I kept holding him back.
He began to drop his head and pull against my grip, trying to get me to relax and loosen my hold on the reins, and on him. Such an incredibly easy-going horse, it wasn’t like Ty to differ with me, but he was adamant that I pay attention. Not to my fear, but to the fun of the ride.
He wanted me to appreciate our friends around us, feel the warm air, the light of the sun, and to just let go. He wanted me to be like him and to lean into the joy.
My mother was a sensitive, kind woman whom I loved. She was the true heart and center of our family. With all the turmoil and grief we experienced as I was growing up, I took on the role of perpetual performer, striving to make my mother smile. In my own way, I was trying to do for her then what Ty was trying to do for me now. I wanted to be a source of light to counter the darkness and grief for her. I wanted to bring her joy that she could hold onto to help counter her fear.
Following her death a few years ago, I found myself in an emotional freefall. It took a lot of soul searching to understand that so much of how I saw myself was based on her image of me, and who she wanted me to be. I dearly wanted to please her and that was at the heart of how I lived my life. Without being able to see myself reflected in her eyes, I felt invisible, a being without form.
Struggling, I had to somehow define happiness for myself. What are my goals? What are my values? What are my dreams? Where is my path?
Looking back, I could see so many decisions I made that were rooted in fear and uncertainty. So many times, I felt myself diminish and shrink, as I put my needs aside for others. Maybe I thought I would be safer if I was cooperative or unobtrusive, and kept my head down.
I wasn’t. I wasn’t safe at all.
We all have wounds we need to recover from, and not just broken shoulders. To do that you have to really see what is around you, the beautiful as well as the challenging. You have to lift your head and look up. It took a long time to get here and to sort out what really matters to me. After so much soul searching, I opted for more joy and ultimately that led me to my life with horses. On that journey, I found Trudy and Ty, and an entire community that feels like family.
In this place, I choose to grow rather than shrink. In this place, I focus on building my confidence and prioritizing my serenity. I have learned to stand up, to lift my head, and to trust my own judgement, relying frequently on my impeccable “gut instinct” that I had so often ignored in the past.
Riding along on Ty, I was practicing my deep “box” breathing to help myself relax. Just then, Wendy and Topa sidle up next to us, and I hear Wendy say, “if I couldn’t hear you breathing from here, I wouldn’t have known you were nervous”.
That made me laugh and with the laughter, I felt some tension let go. Enough so that I could put my trust in Ty and let him show me the way. I let the reins run out through my fingers until I felt the buckle at the end that lets me know they are completely loose.
I leaned into the joy.
For the 4th of July, while folks elsewhere were grilling burgers and hot dogs, I was at the barn with my friends, saddling up and setting off, having already declared my independence.
