In which I set myself up to ride a horse

You might think there is nothing extraordinary in that title, except, I’m afraid of horses.

Really.

I know they can be very nice, very large, creatures. Back when I worked in the county mental health office, I used to take children to riding therapy. I saw children who, for reasons I won’t share, had withdrawn so deeply into themselves that they weren’t socially functional suddenly become animated…daring…courageous! In one session they went from barely staying seated to standing fearlessly on the horse’s back as it gently jogged around the ring.

I was still scared, even as I witnessed the transformation of those children as they piled back into the transport van, smelling horsey and sweaty and smiling, perhaps for the first time that week.

I’m still scared. Let me put it this way, a friend recently suggested we go give some treats to local horses and I think I went deaf for a few moments before I stumbled through finding enough words in English to politely decline.

For those of you who ride horses, I’m sure you think you could introduce me to your favorite horse and make me fall in love with him (or at least give him a carrot without breaking into a cold sweat). If you’re like me, afraid or maybe just ambivalent, I’m sure you’d agree that my life would be no less fulfilled if I never saw a horse again.

So why ride a horse? And why do it now?

I’ve been thinking about this fear thing for some time — years even. I fear growing old. I fear being alone. I fear failure. I fear success. I fear change, even though perhaps I fear a lack of change more.

I’m afraid I won’t get what I want. How about this? I’m afraid I will get what I want.

The thing is, those things are intangible. But horses are not. I can walk up to a horse and look it in the eye, feel the warmth of its body, wrestle with my anxieties and mount it. I should be able to do the same thing with my fears. I think that if I can drum up the courage to get on a horse, I can face down those other fears.

I get that I shouldn’t have to ride a horse to master my other fears, but I like the idea of doing something physical, tangible…courageous.

In the meantime, I am deeply consoled by this picture.

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It seems that once upon a time I wasn’t afraid. That’s my father in the picture, leading me on a little pony. I wasn’t afraid then, trusting my daddy implicitly, knowing he had the reins.

I can learn a lot from that little girl…I can put my trust in my Heavenly Father, knowing He has the reins. He always has.

feral chickens are a thing

feral

It’s birthday weekend around here. Actually, it’s birthday month (happy birthday Christy, Vicky, and my honey), but we are celebrating John’s weekend. That involves ice cream, marathon movies, tasty food, and this afternoon, a lovely drive through the countryside.

I usually bring my camera along on such adventures — you never know what’s gonna grab my fancy.

You know, you never know when you’re going to run across a colony of feral chickens and want a picture.

We passed them so quickly on the country road that John wouldn’t stop or turn around. Sadness. I bet he would have stopped if it was feral goats.

Or feral cows.

back at last!

smeaog precious

I’ve missed my laptop.

I know, such a pathetic thing to say, but there you have it.

I suppose there’s some redeeming thing to say about not being materialistic — you know, the importance of detachment and all that.

Yeah, yeah, yeah. It’s true: the world got on just fine without my laptop distracting me. I wish I could have said that I went totally offline, but I had my phone and an iPad. And this antique HP pc that weighs about 20 pounds and works just fine. I was just spoiled by my light little macbook.

I missed changing the color of fonts. I missed the ease of posting here with access to my pictures. I missed the keypad for my biggish hands (no, I don’t have man -hands, thankyouverymuch).

This electronic object is more than a little toy for posting on Twitter and Facebook, though it does get a lot of action that way. It’s also a tool for communication and for work. If nothing else, this month long absence showed me how much I rely on it to do a multitude of things. I learned the limits of the other, smaller devices, but also discovered that they are, in some respects, more useful and practical than the big daddy for some things.

I think that I’ve picked up some new, hopefully better, habits by not having a laptop open all the time.

In the meantime, I’m going to love him, and squeeze him, and kiss him, and call him George.

 

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