Equuality: Reflections on Life with Horses

Practice

We learn by practice. Whether it means to learn to dance by practicing dancing or to learn to live by practicing living, the principles are the same. One becomes in some area an athlete of God. -Martha Graham

Horsemanship is an art form that engages the body, mind, and soul. It informs the way we move, the way we think, the way we communicate, and the way we connect with the world around us. Horsemanship is more than mucking stalls, more than riding, more even than training and teaching. Each of these things is simply an activity, something that we do. Horsemanship is much more than a set of activities. It is a daily practice, a way of living. It something that we are, a way of being.

I open with this quote from Martha Graham because of the light it shines on the fact that any practice we adopt can become an interface for connecting more deeply with the divine, and thus with life itself. This insight reminds me that to be engaged in a practice like horsemanship is more than a means to achieve a physical or material goal. The achievements are merely by-products of the process of being involved in a dedicated practice. When we begin to open ourselves through such a practice, to get beyond the milestones and ladder rungs of success, we find that our lives bear bountiful fruits and grow deeply connecting roots.

My horsemanship practice began very unconsciously. I was dating a girl who rescued a Mustang as a way to reconnect with horses after they were absent from her life for several years. I tagged along, did the chores, shot pictures, walked with them on the trail. My goal was to be with the girl and the barn just happened to be where she was. The seed of horsemanship that had been planted during a couple of summer camps when I was a kid began to germinate in the daily sustenance I was giving it. Though I didn't realize it at the time, my practice was already bearing some small fruits of patience, connection, and attention to the moment.

The next major growth cycle occurred when I was given the opportunity to work with an unstarted Welsh pony named Rosie. As I was given more responsibility, I took an increasingly active role in my education. The strong equine/human connection I developed with Rosie, the first I of this kind that I had truly experienced, drew me in more deeply, creating stronger roots, connecting me to the ground of my practice. As I helped Rosie to overcome her fears and gain confidence in a human world, she showed me the power of my energy, the need for clarity in my communication, and the strength of my empathic abilities.

Time passed. Kali, the beautiful and intelligent girl I had been lucky enough to date, became my fiancé. She adopted her second Mustang, a gorgeous, willful pony off the Wyoming range. In her few short years of mustang life, Ilo had already pulled herself through a great deal. She had survived to adulthood in the wild. She had made it through the roundup, which is a violent process that leaves many horses injured and all too many dead. Purchased by Mustang rescue organization, she spent over a year recovering from a rattlesnake bite to the face. In short, she had seen hardship and she didn't think that humans had much to offer to make her life better. By watching her with Kali and ineracting some with her on my own, Ilo had many lessons to teach me about motivation and connecting with a soul that doesn't necessarily see the value in reciprocating.

During our stay in Colorado, Kali and I became extremely ill with an imbalance in the bacterial makeup of our digestive systems. Candida yeast took over and created an environment where the very food we ate turned to poison in our stomachs. I lost twenty-five of my one hundred and sixty pounds in one month. In my wasting body, there wasn't much that I was able to do, a very frustrating situation for my athletic self.

We moved home and began the slow process of recovery. Since we were too weak to work much, we decided to volunteer at a horse rescue as a way to get outside that didn't require much exertion. Initially, we volunteered our time to help work with some of the many scared and un-halterable horses the rescue had seized from neglectful homes. When we started, there were sixty-five to seventy horses on the property, maybe five of which could be haltered on a good day.

Forming relationships with abused and neglected horses taught me a great deal about the desire that one being has to connect to another. When given a fair chance, this attraction of souls quickly overcame the power of their fears. All that was required was an openness and a dedication to putting the relationship first. With the connection formed, horses who had remained emaciated and skittish even after months in the safety of the rescue finally began their process of recovery. I took this lesson with me as I progressed in my own healing, finding the greatest therapeutic power in connecting to others.

During my tenure at the rescue, I adopted the first horse I had ever called "mine," a Kiger mustang who I call Kekoa. As cliché as it sounds, from the first moment our eyes met, I felt drawn to her powerful presence. Initially, she kept her distance, but the moment she decided to trust me, she gave me everything. The gift of her trust was a great one, to be granted totally and with a combination of solemnity and joy. Together we have formed one of the deepest bonds I have known. As I have continued to recover from my great physical illness, I have discovered that I am also recovering from a sickness of the soul. I had learned to withdraw from others and hide away to try and feel safe. Koa is helping me to learn how to play in the light again again.

These stories are just a few of the branches from the fruitful tree that has grown out of my horsemanship practice. There are myriad other shoots, twigs, stems, and leaves, many of which I am sure I am not even aware of. What I do see with clarity is that this tree has flourished not because of any specific effort I have made, but instead has taken its sustenance from my being engaged in the process over time.

Though we may feel we put our focus and energy into a single point of practice like our horsemanship, as we live we grow not a single tree, but an entire orchard. Our personal relationships, our work, our hobbies, each thing we do nurtures a fruitful tree. The branches intermingle in the sun light of our experiences, the leaves sing a chorus with breezes that move us to and fro, and the roots intertwine with the power of our relationships. Whenever we feel disconnected, malnourished, or tired, we can take refuge in the orchard of our practice, resting in its shade, eating its fruits, and feeling at one with the connection it provides to the divinity of the world.

In writing this book I hope to give a glimpse into the numerous ways that living a life with horses has helped me to live a life of connection, joy and love. I invite you into my orchard, to sit in its shade, to enjoy the smell of the earth, to taste some of the fruits my horsemanship practice has borne, and to take away with you anything the resonates with your heart.