Not that it really matters what I think in the world of international dressage, but watching the Aachen CDI the other day and reading subsequent articles about the results got me to thinking.
Steffen's ride was beautiful. Ravel's half passes were fluid and his transitions were seamless. The extended canter took my breath away; it looked like he covered the diagonal in three strides. His ride should have scored better.
Totilas looked much more pleasant. Now, I'm not a Totilas basher, per se, but I haven't liked what I've seen. Sure, he's flashy and bouncy, but the tightness, the poll dipping very low, and the absolute lack of hind end engagement in the trot lengthenings just irks me. I can't see how he has been scored so phenomenally well. However, under his new rider (whom I DO NOT envy for having to follow up the Gal/Totilas freak show), Totilas looked much more fluid. His passage and piaffe were not so extravagant; no hooves flashing up by his ears. His throatlatch was more open; his frame was longer and more swingy. Here's an article that gets to the point a little better than I do.
And video of the black wonder horse...
I'm disappointed that Steffen and Ravel didn't score/place better. I really do love that team. However, I am glad to see what Rath is doing with Totilas. The horse looks happy; despite a few bobbles, they were scored fairly consistently across the board and in keeping with the quality of their work. Well, done, Toto.
Saturday, July 16, 2011
Friday, July 15, 2011
Can't...stop....looking
I am completely obsessed with catalogs. My husband laughs when he sees how excited I get when a new catalog comes in the mail. Of course, most of my catalogs are horse-related...Dover, SmartPak, Valley Vet Supply, Wild Horsefeathers, Back in the Saddle (there are a couple of sweaters in that catalog that I lust after).
I can look at catalogs hundreds of times. The big, annual Dover catalog sits out for the whole year. Their ubiquitous sales catalogs are devoured time and again...at least, until the next sales catalog comes along. I even read all the supplement descriptions in Smart Pak, even supplements that I'll know I'll never need for Obe (like energy builders).
I haven't had a catalog come in the mail for a couple of weeks now, and I'm beginning to feel the strain. When Jim went out to the mailbox this afternoon, I watched his reflection in the TV screen, craning my neck to see what he was pulling out of the box. When he came in, I saw some colorful pages in his hands, and my heart began to race. Unfortunately, it was merely a class catalog for the local community college (NOT the one we teach at...like I'm going to look at that catalog). Not the kind of catalog I want.
There's always the online version...but there's something about having those glossy pages in my hand that I can flip back and forth...something compelling.
Come on, mailman, bring me a catalog!
I can look at catalogs hundreds of times. The big, annual Dover catalog sits out for the whole year. Their ubiquitous sales catalogs are devoured time and again...at least, until the next sales catalog comes along. I even read all the supplement descriptions in Smart Pak, even supplements that I'll know I'll never need for Obe (like energy builders).
I haven't had a catalog come in the mail for a couple of weeks now, and I'm beginning to feel the strain. When Jim went out to the mailbox this afternoon, I watched his reflection in the TV screen, craning my neck to see what he was pulling out of the box. When he came in, I saw some colorful pages in his hands, and my heart began to race. Unfortunately, it was merely a class catalog for the local community college (NOT the one we teach at...like I'm going to look at that catalog). Not the kind of catalog I want.
There's always the online version...but there's something about having those glossy pages in my hand that I can flip back and forth...something compelling.
Come on, mailman, bring me a catalog!
Wednesday, July 13, 2011
Miss you long time!
Wow...it's been ages since I last updated my blog. Trust me, it isn't because my life has suddenly paused and nothing has happened! Quite the opposite, in fact...I've been busy and life has kind of gotten away with me. Anyway, here I am.
Today, I turn 35 years old. Ick, even writing that sentence made my stomach do weird flips and flops. That number means I'm on the downhill slope towards that age that begins with the letter "f" and ends with "y." Double ick. And so, I find myself wistfully pondering the passage of time. Ha! No, I'm actually sitting in my office, bundled up in a fleece against the rabid air conditioning that causes my office to hover around 40 degrees, kind of oblivious to the whole birthday thing. Don't get me wrong, I like receiving presents and well wishes as much as the next girl, but today just seems like any other day.
So, I'm going to treat it like any other day. This isn't the day I head downhill towards forty...today, is just another sunny, summer day. I'll teach composition in my summer session class; I'll go to the barn and teach a lesson to a fabulous young rider; I'll work with my own horse; I'll speak with friends; I'll celebrate the fact that the National League won the All-Star Game; I'll have a turkey sandwich and diet 7-Up for lunch; I'll snuggle with my dog; I'll water my flowers in my window boxes; I'll listen to music while I work. It's just like any other day....right?
Today, I turn 35 years old. Ick, even writing that sentence made my stomach do weird flips and flops. That number means I'm on the downhill slope towards that age that begins with the letter "f" and ends with "y." Double ick. And so, I find myself wistfully pondering the passage of time. Ha! No, I'm actually sitting in my office, bundled up in a fleece against the rabid air conditioning that causes my office to hover around 40 degrees, kind of oblivious to the whole birthday thing. Don't get me wrong, I like receiving presents and well wishes as much as the next girl, but today just seems like any other day.
So, I'm going to treat it like any other day. This isn't the day I head downhill towards forty...today, is just another sunny, summer day. I'll teach composition in my summer session class; I'll go to the barn and teach a lesson to a fabulous young rider; I'll work with my own horse; I'll speak with friends; I'll celebrate the fact that the National League won the All-Star Game; I'll have a turkey sandwich and diet 7-Up for lunch; I'll snuggle with my dog; I'll water my flowers in my window boxes; I'll listen to music while I work. It's just like any other day....right?
Wednesday, November 3, 2010
Take a seat
Well, I did it. In my lesson with Debra the Great (that's her new name, she just doesn't know it yet) a couple of weeks ago, I did it. When she finished up with my friend Kara (who was looking AMAZING over fences...nice automatic release, my friend!), she walked towards me, and I said, "I want to work on me." She asked what I meant by that, after all, it's a bit vague. So, I explained about the videotape my dear husband made of me and my disappointment at what I saw....my seat all rocked back on my pockets (if I had them...I don't ride in jeans; they hurt too much), my arms all crazy and in front of me. Debra, being the Great One, smiled and proceeded to work her magic.
First, let me explain how awesome Debra is. She has a history with horses that reads like a Who's Who of the equine world in SEVERAL different sports (hunters, jumpers, Thoroughbred racehorses, dressage). She has all her USDF medals; she's trained several different horses of varying breeds up through the levels to FEI. With all this, she has a right just as much as anyone to be quite the DQ. However, she's truly the most laid back person on earth (must be the California in her) - seriously, she never groomed her horse when she rode other than to knock off the (SUBSTANTIAL amounts of) dirt from where the saddle would be. She would be out riding him, doing the most beautiful piaffe, passage, tempis, and pirouettes all with clumps of dirt flying from his neck, face and shoulders. In lessons, she laughs off the intensity I bring and reminds me how wonderful this dressage experience can be. So...all that said, after my declaration of how horrible my seat was, she walked up beside me with the mounting block, climbed it and asked me to rise up out the saddle. She proceeded to put her hand, palm up, in the center of my saddle, and told me to sit on it. "Really?" I asked with a bit of trepidation. "Oh, yeah," she chuckled, "I don't mind at all." I shrugged, and, not being one to say no to a new adventure, sat down.
In all this, we discovered that my seat bones sit farther forward in my seat than any others she has ever felt (She claimed to have felt "hundreds." I'll take her word for it.). So, to get them pointing down and in the right place in the saddle, I have to think of riding forward to the front third of the saddle with my upper body...almost putting a slight arch in my lower back. Well, what feels like a slight arch to me is actually a neutral spine position. I'm just so used to rolling back on my seat bones and flattening out my lower back that I have forgotten what "sitting up straight" really feels like.
Then, she moved to the other part of my seat - my thighs. To emphasize the musculature of my thighs, she asked me to prevent her being able to move my lower leg around. She pushed it in towards Obe's side, I pressed back against the pressure with my quads. She pushed on my toe to shove my leg backwards, I pressed back with my quads. She pushed on my heel to shove my leg forwards.....and my leg went FLYING up by Obe's shoulder. Debra squinted up at me, "Do you use your hamstrings at all?" I recovered my jaw that had dropped onto the pommel of the saddle and said, "Apparently no." After a few more minutes of talk of engaging the hamstrings (popping the tendons behind the knee), I struck out at a walk on a slightly larger than 20-meter circle with my new seat and new thighs. I quickly realized that my dressage education (if you want to call it that) had huge, gaping holes in it. With a few direct questions, and through getting her hands literally ON me, Debra had not only pinpointed those holes, but she had deftly filled them. "Seat" does not mean "butt." It is the crotch, the inner thigh, the inner knee, the entire pelvis...it's actually quite large as far as surface area goes.
So, there I was walking around, diligently working at engaging my hamstrings. Debra asked for sitting trot, and off I went. Immediately, I could feel the weight dropping through my thigh and leg. The part of my pelvis that was touching the saddle was further forward, riding in a circular motion through the front of my abdomen. My arms dropped naturally by my side (in fact, we never even had to address the issue of my arms once I discovered what "seat" meant). All this felt great, and I knew I was onto something thanks to Debra the Great's intuitive way of teaching. But, it wasn't over quite yet....
Feedback is more than the squeaky, eardrum-piercing tones that microphones produce when they cross paths with a speaker's output. It is a mechanism that lets us know when we are on the right track or when we have strayed a bit too far the wrong way. That night, my horse became the best feedback mechanism I've truly ever experienced. When I asked for trot and settled into my new seat, my lower legs were able to close around Obe's ribs and lift her to me. For the first few circles, Obe's ears flicked back and forth, but not in her usual, ADD, paying-attention-to-anything-other-than-me way. It was almost as if she was trying to figure out if this new way of going was true. "Really?" she was asking. "Is this really the way it's going to be? Are you sure? 'Cause I'm kinda liking this." After a few circles, I closed my leg, and Obe lifted me to the front of the saddle, carried her shoulders up through her withers, and lengthened...really and truly lengthened. And, get this, I RODE it. I TRULY rode it. It felt like I was riding a sin wave. Now, I'm not a mathematician by any stretch of the imagination. I teach English for really good reasons. However, I know a sin wave, and that's exactly what her energy felt like. I wasn't simply dropping down in the down parts, forcing my butt down on her back and squashing all the energy she was trying to create. Instead, I was allowing the up and the down portions of the wave to simply TAKE my seat (crotch, pelvis, thighs and all) through the energy. Debra almost laughed at how different we were. "Keep riding it! Feel it!" she encouraged.
I was sore for three days after my lesson. My hamstrings were a little surprised at being called into action. But, I couldn't WAIT to get back out there and try it again. I was a little worried that it was just a fluke, that I might not really be riding as well as I thought I was. Then, last night, nearly two weeks later, I rode in the indoor arena that has one short side in mirrors. I dared to take a look as Obe and I trotted by. It isn't often that I like what I see when I look in a mirror. But last night, I actually smiled at my reflection. Now, I just need another session with a videotape....that will tell the tale. I'll let you know when that happens!
First, let me explain how awesome Debra is. She has a history with horses that reads like a Who's Who of the equine world in SEVERAL different sports (hunters, jumpers, Thoroughbred racehorses, dressage). She has all her USDF medals; she's trained several different horses of varying breeds up through the levels to FEI. With all this, she has a right just as much as anyone to be quite the DQ. However, she's truly the most laid back person on earth (must be the California in her) - seriously, she never groomed her horse when she rode other than to knock off the (SUBSTANTIAL amounts of) dirt from where the saddle would be. She would be out riding him, doing the most beautiful piaffe, passage, tempis, and pirouettes all with clumps of dirt flying from his neck, face and shoulders. In lessons, she laughs off the intensity I bring and reminds me how wonderful this dressage experience can be. So...all that said, after my declaration of how horrible my seat was, she walked up beside me with the mounting block, climbed it and asked me to rise up out the saddle. She proceeded to put her hand, palm up, in the center of my saddle, and told me to sit on it. "Really?" I asked with a bit of trepidation. "Oh, yeah," she chuckled, "I don't mind at all." I shrugged, and, not being one to say no to a new adventure, sat down.
In all this, we discovered that my seat bones sit farther forward in my seat than any others she has ever felt (She claimed to have felt "hundreds." I'll take her word for it.). So, to get them pointing down and in the right place in the saddle, I have to think of riding forward to the front third of the saddle with my upper body...almost putting a slight arch in my lower back. Well, what feels like a slight arch to me is actually a neutral spine position. I'm just so used to rolling back on my seat bones and flattening out my lower back that I have forgotten what "sitting up straight" really feels like.
Then, she moved to the other part of my seat - my thighs. To emphasize the musculature of my thighs, she asked me to prevent her being able to move my lower leg around. She pushed it in towards Obe's side, I pressed back against the pressure with my quads. She pushed on my toe to shove my leg backwards, I pressed back with my quads. She pushed on my heel to shove my leg forwards.....and my leg went FLYING up by Obe's shoulder. Debra squinted up at me, "Do you use your hamstrings at all?" I recovered my jaw that had dropped onto the pommel of the saddle and said, "Apparently no." After a few more minutes of talk of engaging the hamstrings (popping the tendons behind the knee), I struck out at a walk on a slightly larger than 20-meter circle with my new seat and new thighs. I quickly realized that my dressage education (if you want to call it that) had huge, gaping holes in it. With a few direct questions, and through getting her hands literally ON me, Debra had not only pinpointed those holes, but she had deftly filled them. "Seat" does not mean "butt." It is the crotch, the inner thigh, the inner knee, the entire pelvis...it's actually quite large as far as surface area goes.
So, there I was walking around, diligently working at engaging my hamstrings. Debra asked for sitting trot, and off I went. Immediately, I could feel the weight dropping through my thigh and leg. The part of my pelvis that was touching the saddle was further forward, riding in a circular motion through the front of my abdomen. My arms dropped naturally by my side (in fact, we never even had to address the issue of my arms once I discovered what "seat" meant). All this felt great, and I knew I was onto something thanks to Debra the Great's intuitive way of teaching. But, it wasn't over quite yet....
Feedback is more than the squeaky, eardrum-piercing tones that microphones produce when they cross paths with a speaker's output. It is a mechanism that lets us know when we are on the right track or when we have strayed a bit too far the wrong way. That night, my horse became the best feedback mechanism I've truly ever experienced. When I asked for trot and settled into my new seat, my lower legs were able to close around Obe's ribs and lift her to me. For the first few circles, Obe's ears flicked back and forth, but not in her usual, ADD, paying-attention-to-anything-other-than-me way. It was almost as if she was trying to figure out if this new way of going was true. "Really?" she was asking. "Is this really the way it's going to be? Are you sure? 'Cause I'm kinda liking this." After a few circles, I closed my leg, and Obe lifted me to the front of the saddle, carried her shoulders up through her withers, and lengthened...really and truly lengthened. And, get this, I RODE it. I TRULY rode it. It felt like I was riding a sin wave. Now, I'm not a mathematician by any stretch of the imagination. I teach English for really good reasons. However, I know a sin wave, and that's exactly what her energy felt like. I wasn't simply dropping down in the down parts, forcing my butt down on her back and squashing all the energy she was trying to create. Instead, I was allowing the up and the down portions of the wave to simply TAKE my seat (crotch, pelvis, thighs and all) through the energy. Debra almost laughed at how different we were. "Keep riding it! Feel it!" she encouraged.
I was sore for three days after my lesson. My hamstrings were a little surprised at being called into action. But, I couldn't WAIT to get back out there and try it again. I was a little worried that it was just a fluke, that I might not really be riding as well as I thought I was. Then, last night, nearly two weeks later, I rode in the indoor arena that has one short side in mirrors. I dared to take a look as Obe and I trotted by. It isn't often that I like what I see when I look in a mirror. But last night, I actually smiled at my reflection. Now, I just need another session with a videotape....that will tell the tale. I'll let you know when that happens!
Thursday, October 21, 2010
Videotape
I haven't updated my blog in forever. I could probably make a million excuses for that (some of them good ones), but I won't, because excuses rarely mean anything to anyone except for the one who is making them. So, onward and upward to what I want to write.
When I type type the word "videotape," I automatically think of the Don Delillo short story of the same name, but that's no where NEAR what I'm talking about. I'm talking about my need to take a video camera to the barn with me more often.
A few weeks ago, I had my husband videotape me riding on a sunny, Sunday afternoon. It was informative, to say the least. Now, I'm not going to say that I invented the strategy of using videotape to watch my rides. We all know that video is a well-known tool in the horseback rider's arsenal (that's a mixed metaphor, I know, but I like the word "arsenal"). But, I laugh at myself and how I'm continually "shocked" at how useful it is! I'll watch myself riding, then I'll swear up and down that I'm going to videotape myself more often. But, then the camera sits in the closet for another couple of months. But, I really do want to change that pattern. I think I need to videotape myself more often for several reasons.
Reason #1: Me. My position needs help. I know that I have learned some bad habits from riding alone for a couple of years. And I know that I've learned to ride rather defensively, too. So, more often than not, I'm a bit collapsed, arms a little bit of everywhere, shoulders round. Not that that position would save me in the event of a big spook, buck or bolt - but, something inside me says to ride that way. Luckily, I'm taking lessons with Debra-the-amazing-Grand-Prix-trainer-who-is-laid-back-cool-and-fun. I can't wait to get out there tonight. I'll get to the barn, tack up, then warm up my horse to get rid of those horrible first few moments of any gait where she acts like she's never walked, trotted, cantered, been in the arena, seen those jumps, trees or leaves. Then, when Debra turns to me, I'll say, "I want to work on me." I may even get really brave and say, "Should I cross my stirrups for a while?"
Reason #2: My horse. I am pleased that videotape has validated that I truly CAN feel when things are good and when things are bad. I can watch tape of my riding and know what's coming next..."Oooh, when we come out of that corner, she loses impulsion and gets all sticky in her shoulders." Sure, enough, that happens. So, that's good. However, it's also shown me that I need to tune in EVEN MORE during my transitions. I'm not satisfied with simply getting a clean walk-canter transition. I want to get it at the right moment...I don't want my horse's haunches to swing to the inside first because I missed the timing of her outside hind leg. So, I want to videotape to wach my horse and learn to feel her better.
Reason #3: I really want to do one of those before/after videos. Now that I'm getting the hang of the Microsoft movie maker software on my computer, I want to blend together some clips that show where we are now and, in the future, the amazing, awesomeness that I know my pony can be. That's going to be the bomb-diggity.
So...I'm off to the barn. I'll tack up, warm up the wiggles out of my horse, then smile at Debra and say, "I want to work on me." I'll let you know how it goes.
When I type type the word "videotape," I automatically think of the Don Delillo short story of the same name, but that's no where NEAR what I'm talking about. I'm talking about my need to take a video camera to the barn with me more often.
A few weeks ago, I had my husband videotape me riding on a sunny, Sunday afternoon. It was informative, to say the least. Now, I'm not going to say that I invented the strategy of using videotape to watch my rides. We all know that video is a well-known tool in the horseback rider's arsenal (that's a mixed metaphor, I know, but I like the word "arsenal"). But, I laugh at myself and how I'm continually "shocked" at how useful it is! I'll watch myself riding, then I'll swear up and down that I'm going to videotape myself more often. But, then the camera sits in the closet for another couple of months. But, I really do want to change that pattern. I think I need to videotape myself more often for several reasons.
Reason #1: Me. My position needs help. I know that I have learned some bad habits from riding alone for a couple of years. And I know that I've learned to ride rather defensively, too. So, more often than not, I'm a bit collapsed, arms a little bit of everywhere, shoulders round. Not that that position would save me in the event of a big spook, buck or bolt - but, something inside me says to ride that way. Luckily, I'm taking lessons with Debra-the-amazing-Grand-Prix-trainer-who-is-laid-back-cool-and-fun. I can't wait to get out there tonight. I'll get to the barn, tack up, then warm up my horse to get rid of those horrible first few moments of any gait where she acts like she's never walked, trotted, cantered, been in the arena, seen those jumps, trees or leaves. Then, when Debra turns to me, I'll say, "I want to work on me." I may even get really brave and say, "Should I cross my stirrups for a while?"
Reason #2: My horse. I am pleased that videotape has validated that I truly CAN feel when things are good and when things are bad. I can watch tape of my riding and know what's coming next..."Oooh, when we come out of that corner, she loses impulsion and gets all sticky in her shoulders." Sure, enough, that happens. So, that's good. However, it's also shown me that I need to tune in EVEN MORE during my transitions. I'm not satisfied with simply getting a clean walk-canter transition. I want to get it at the right moment...I don't want my horse's haunches to swing to the inside first because I missed the timing of her outside hind leg. So, I want to videotape to wach my horse and learn to feel her better.
Reason #3: I really want to do one of those before/after videos. Now that I'm getting the hang of the Microsoft movie maker software on my computer, I want to blend together some clips that show where we are now and, in the future, the amazing, awesomeness that I know my pony can be. That's going to be the bomb-diggity.
So...I'm off to the barn. I'll tack up, warm up the wiggles out of my horse, then smile at Debra and say, "I want to work on me." I'll let you know how it goes.
Sunday, September 5, 2010
Good
I just got off the phone with one of my dearest friends. She lives all the way across the country in Oregon, but talking with her is always easy...it's just one of "those" friendships, you know? She called because she just got the horse of her dreams...for free. This isn't one of those "gift horse," things where the horse is all broken down, one-eyed, and lame. It also isn't one of those things where everyone kind of smirks and says, "Oh, she'll find out that there's no such thing as a free horse." Believe me, if anyone in the world knows that, it's Stacie.
She called me while hand grazing her new mare - who has the lovely name, Nadia - trying to overcome a moment of panic and anxiety that she doesn't really deserve something this wonderful to happen to her. If you know me, you know now why Stacie called me. I struggle with this deeply on an almost daily basis.
My background tells me that I receive good things (conceivably, I receive God's blessing) as reward for the good I've done or for the bad I've managed to avoid. So, when good things happen to me, sure, I'm happy, but I'm also desperately afraid that they will be taken away from me with the same capricious nature with which they were given. Thinking of the good in life as "a reward" makes for enormous amounts of pressure to perform...continually. Be the best student, be the best Christian, be the best piano player, be the best actress, be the best horseback rider, be the best teacher, be the best fill-in-the-blank with ANYTHING out of my life and it would mimic the voice that whispers at me from the base of my skull. Then, when good happens, it just ups the ante that much more. Every challenge, then, (test, piano recital, theater performance, report card) becomes a possibility that I may fail...and my carefully constructed ruse will fall apart and everyone will see that I'm just a sham, that it's all been an act, that I'm really not worth all the good that has happened.
I know now - after years of struggle, therapy, life, and contemplation - that the above paragraph breaks the heart of a loving, giving God. He doesn't tantalize us with good things to get us to walk a tight rope into His good favors. He doesn't dangle carrots...He doesn't play with our hearts. He simply loves us beyond anything we can ask or imagine.
That means that the good stuff in life is simply confirmation of that love...confirmation that we are healthy, spending our energy on the things that matter - our hearts, the hearts of others. The good stuff should be encouraging, invigorating and downright exciting! It isn't about pressure...it's about release! Think of it in horse training terms - we use the release to show the horse that he's on the right track, that he's thinking with us, that he's partnering with us in this wonderful dance. The good in life is our "release"- it's our partnership with God working itself out on this earth.
It's fitting that Stacie and I ended our conversation with a few tears - mixed with sadness and joy. It would be amazing to be standing there with her while she hand-grazed her new, magical white pony. But, in a sense, I was there, because "good" stretches far beyond Portland, Oregon, or Waynesville, North Carolina, or her heart or mine. And that makes me so excited that I could "explode into glitter," right Stacie?
She called me while hand grazing her new mare - who has the lovely name, Nadia - trying to overcome a moment of panic and anxiety that she doesn't really deserve something this wonderful to happen to her. If you know me, you know now why Stacie called me. I struggle with this deeply on an almost daily basis.
My background tells me that I receive good things (conceivably, I receive God's blessing) as reward for the good I've done or for the bad I've managed to avoid. So, when good things happen to me, sure, I'm happy, but I'm also desperately afraid that they will be taken away from me with the same capricious nature with which they were given. Thinking of the good in life as "a reward" makes for enormous amounts of pressure to perform...continually. Be the best student, be the best Christian, be the best piano player, be the best actress, be the best horseback rider, be the best teacher, be the best fill-in-the-blank with ANYTHING out of my life and it would mimic the voice that whispers at me from the base of my skull. Then, when good happens, it just ups the ante that much more. Every challenge, then, (test, piano recital, theater performance, report card) becomes a possibility that I may fail...and my carefully constructed ruse will fall apart and everyone will see that I'm just a sham, that it's all been an act, that I'm really not worth all the good that has happened.
I know now - after years of struggle, therapy, life, and contemplation - that the above paragraph breaks the heart of a loving, giving God. He doesn't tantalize us with good things to get us to walk a tight rope into His good favors. He doesn't dangle carrots...He doesn't play with our hearts. He simply loves us beyond anything we can ask or imagine.
That means that the good stuff in life is simply confirmation of that love...confirmation that we are healthy, spending our energy on the things that matter - our hearts, the hearts of others. The good stuff should be encouraging, invigorating and downright exciting! It isn't about pressure...it's about release! Think of it in horse training terms - we use the release to show the horse that he's on the right track, that he's thinking with us, that he's partnering with us in this wonderful dance. The good in life is our "release"- it's our partnership with God working itself out on this earth.
It's fitting that Stacie and I ended our conversation with a few tears - mixed with sadness and joy. It would be amazing to be standing there with her while she hand-grazed her new, magical white pony. But, in a sense, I was there, because "good" stretches far beyond Portland, Oregon, or Waynesville, North Carolina, or her heart or mine. And that makes me so excited that I could "explode into glitter," right Stacie?
Monday, August 23, 2010
The possibilities are endless!
This weekend, I got the new Dover catalog in the mail. It's not just any catalog...it's the "Elite" edition, and it's HUGE. Like any good horse person, I immediately sat down on the couch to look at it. I looked at every single page, despite the fact that I've seen most of these products dozens of times in other catalogs. But that didn't matter...THIS catalog was new, so every page deserved a thorough going-over. Riding breeches for schooling and for showing, show shirts, fleece pull-overs, polo wraps, wool coolers, cotton coolers, brush boots, bell boots, belts, reins, bridles, gloves, medications, supplements, whips, spurs, saddles, saddle pads, etc. There are too many products to name! The combinations are endless...the possibilities are endless! Well, depending on how much money you have available.
I often find myself reading these catalogs and picturing myself using the products, putting them on Obe, riding in them - rolling the wheel barrows, wearing the scarves, strapping on the spur straps, putting my feet in the stirrups. Even though I don't have the budget to purchase everything I imagine purchasing, it's the act of imagining it that gets me excited. Simply thinking of all the possibilities makes me giddy!
I do the same thing reading books about riding and training. Right now, I'm working through three books by Paul Belasik and two by Mary Wanless (I know, I know...five books is an insane amount, but that's how I roll). In every chapter I find something that I connect with powerfully - and I begin to imagine me and Obe performing the perfect flying change, half-passing with HUGE steps across the arena, getting to do a victory gallop. And in the imagining of these things, I get excited! I've never done a victory gallop...our half passes are stilted and uneven, our flying changes are more often than not accompanied by bucking. But, I can imagine all these things into perfection - not some pressure-laden, fearing-failure kind of perfection, but a picture that drives me to work harder and tune in a little more to my horse. I love that! The possibilities are endless!!
I often find myself reading these catalogs and picturing myself using the products, putting them on Obe, riding in them - rolling the wheel barrows, wearing the scarves, strapping on the spur straps, putting my feet in the stirrups. Even though I don't have the budget to purchase everything I imagine purchasing, it's the act of imagining it that gets me excited. Simply thinking of all the possibilities makes me giddy!
I do the same thing reading books about riding and training. Right now, I'm working through three books by Paul Belasik and two by Mary Wanless (I know, I know...five books is an insane amount, but that's how I roll). In every chapter I find something that I connect with powerfully - and I begin to imagine me and Obe performing the perfect flying change, half-passing with HUGE steps across the arena, getting to do a victory gallop. And in the imagining of these things, I get excited! I've never done a victory gallop...our half passes are stilted and uneven, our flying changes are more often than not accompanied by bucking. But, I can imagine all these things into perfection - not some pressure-laden, fearing-failure kind of perfection, but a picture that drives me to work harder and tune in a little more to my horse. I love that! The possibilities are endless!!
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