Deja vu

I am at the barn, alone as usual. For some reason I seem to be here at unpopular times. It’s a cool January day, muddy and grey, and the wind is blowing. I don’t really want to be here, it’s colder than I thought it was and the wind cuts through my clothes.

I open my tack locker and take out my halter, thinking I’ll just quickly groom my horse and hightail it back home. I certainly don’t want to ride today. She’s excited to see me, as usual. I brush her fluffy winter coat, thinking about how marvelously soft it is.

I’m feeling warmer now, perhaps I will lunge my horse today. Undecided, I pick the knots out of her short tail. I walk back to my tack locker, and on a whim I pull out my saddle. Why not? I can have a short ride in the indoor arena where I’m safe from the wind.

I saddle my horse, lead her into the arena, and mount. The saddle feels stiff and cold, I have not used it in awhile. The arena lights cast an orange glow as we walk on the rail. My horse moves slowly, and I fidget in the saddle trying to find a comfortable seat.

The arena footing is uneven, and my horse alters her stride over the rough patches. The barn owner has promised over and over that the footing will be improved, but I know that it won’t be. The cost is too high for the small amount of money she has left over after paying the bills.

I gather up my reins slightly and nudge my horse into a trot. I look at my reins and the leather bridle on my horse’s head. I bought that bridle when I bought my horse. I’ve always liked it. Smooth, soft leather in just the right shade of brown. It was used when I got it, but perfectly broken in and supple.

My horse is sluggish. She does not like the uneven footing and lack of riding effort on my part. Her head hangs low as she jogs around the ring. It is too small in here, too cramped. There is no room to move. Perhaps the wind has died down a little and we can ride outside.

I open the gate from horseback. It is easy, and my horse knows the drill. Halt, side-pass, turn on the forehand, halt, side-pass, halt. A cool breeze is blowing, but I am warm in my dark zip-up sweatshirt. We head outside.

I feel happier now. The air in the indoor arena was dusty and still, and the walls were much too close together. We amble out into the fading afternoon light. The clouds make it seem much later than it actually is.

I push my horse into a trot, posting with the rhythm. I am seized with a desire to trot faster, and I put my leg on my horse’s ribs and click to her. She speeds up and we sail along. The footing is much better out here, there is no need to worry about a stumble.

We take a short walk break. I’m feeling hot now in my sweatshirt, so I pause to remove it. My horse doesn’t bat an eye as I whip off my top layer of clothing and throw it onto the fence. I’ll pick it up later.

I push my horse forward and we’re off again. She scoots forward, tossing her head, anticipating the canter cue. I make her trot a little longer before I ask for the canter. I want it to be my idea, not hers.

I sit the trot and ask her to pick up the canter. She hops into it, excited to be moving out. She canters slowly at first, then gradually picks up speed. We do a few flying changes, partly to distract her, but mostly because they are fun.

I don’t want to stop cantering. It’s my favorite gait, and it also scares me a little. I feel my horse’s hooves pounding the ground beneath us. She is steady and solid, each stride as balanced and powerful as the last.

As the ground disappears under us and the scenery flashes past, I feel free. I lift my chin and open my chest, grinning from the sheer joy of riding my horse. This is how it is meant to be, I feel at one with my horse. My horse’s steady stride is my own heartbeat, and at this moment my heart is open to all the beauty of the world.

I quietly ask for a walk, and my horse calmly shifts gears. I let the reins out to the buckle and she gratefully drops her nose to the ground. I am decidedly hot now, and I welcome the cool wind as it blows through me, carrying the heat away.

When my horse’s breathing returns to normal, I stop by the fence to grab my sweatshirt and we walk back to the barn. I dismount, and my horse vigorously rubs her head on her leg. I take the leather bridle off her face and hang it in my locker. I undo the girth and pull off the saddle.

Leading my horse back to the indoor ring, I give her a chance to roll. She eagerly plops down in the sand and rolls. Occasionally she lies still for a moment, then rolls again. I suspect she is attempting to roll all the way over. It’s something she has only managed a few times. Eventually she gets up, shakes, and ambles back to the gate, ready to be taken out and brushed.

I brush off the loose sand and curry the sweat marks. She makes grumpy faces at me as I brush her chest and gives me the evil eye behind my back. This is normal, and I ignore her. Right before I take her home I feed her a couple treats. This is her favorite part of the day. She stands up straight, perks her ears, and generally does her best to look alert, cute, and dying for a treat. This trick works well on small children.

As I lead her home, I think about how wonderful my horse is and how lucky I am to have her. I check her water, make sure the gate is latched and head back to put the halter away. It’s getting dark now, and I want to get home before the evening gets too cold. I get in my car and turn the key, getting one last glimpse of my horse as I drive out of the barn.

…………………….

Today I felt some major déjà vu. I don’t know if it was the weather, the solitude or just a feeling in the air, but I felt like I was back at Grizzly Peak Stables in California. Many things were the same: the horse, the bridle, the winter weather, and the progression of events. It was a bit eerie, but rather fun at the same time.

Many things are different now, though. I am burdened with worries and weight that I did not have in those days, and Cherry has mellowed considerably with age and training. I used to fear the canter because it was difficult to stop, now my mind dwells on the time when Cherry fell to her knees at the canter and I nearly went flying over her head. The leather bridle is indeed the same, but instead of a bit the check pieces are fastened to a rope side-pull.

I also like to think my riding is different now. I am not in the same physical shape, but my riding has become more subtle, more refined. I finally understand what my dressage lessons were all about. I get the concepts and can implement them on my own, though I do miss the instruction. I could do so much more with it now.

I wouldn’t go back and be a teenager again for all the world. Though I was young, skinny and indestructible, I was also uncertain, insecure and far too hard on my horse. I took my anger out on her, and though I knew it was wrong I could not stop myself. I didn’t understand the finesse of using my seat and legs, I thought I could just force my horse into compliance, and got frustrated when that tactic did not work. My world was threatened by the nagging thought that I did not know everything. Now, I know and embrace my own limitations. I can always expand my horizons and not knowing what to do does not bring my confidence crashing down. I love my parents but I do prefer to live alone, and I know that I can and will take care of myself.

Sometimes I wonder what Cherry thinks. Does she too enjoy the growing sense of self and security that age brings? She certainly appears to be calmer and more content now, but I do not know the exact reason. Age is beginning to take its toll on her and her joints are starting to stiffen. I keep an eye on her for signs of pain, but so far I have found nothing. One day I know I will have to retire her, but I hope that day is long in the future and we have many more days like today between then and now.