Of love, of worldly matters and direction
There were things about October 2005 that have shaped my life ever since. One of those things was that the Sequoia album came out, as I mentioned a couple of posts ago. But the biggest one, far and away the biggest, was that on the nineteenth of October 2005, Othello stepped off the horsebox onto the yard and I had a horse of my own for the first time.
A decade is a long time but I feel that I have spent that time well as regards my progress with horses. They were already central to the life I shared with my wife but having my own, in spite of my inexperience and general beginnerish awfulness ( paired with deep enthusiasm ) was a really big deal for me. Othello set me on the path of becoming a horseman, and the grief and pain of losing him fixed me on that course in a way that perhaps nothing else could have. The understanding of loss that I had gone through, gave me a connection to Sari when she lost one of the horses in her life a little later that year, which was how we first came to know one another.
Since then I have ridden colts in Texas, trained up a truly amazing trail horse, taught more than a handful of people about the basics ( and sometimes the less-basics ) of horsemanship and become a passable hand by British standards, albeit still the most average rider you will ever see. I'm working on that part. I have made some enduring friendships - including most of the people who will be reading this - and met a lot of brilliant, smart, interesting and sweet natured horses.
I have reached a different place now - that bright incandescence of enthusiasm is more of a steady glow now, it has resolved into part of me and, as you might have noticed, I am slower to share my opinions these days. It's not that I have lost confidence in them - I know more than I ever did and I am clearer about what needs to be done in many situations than most people are, but I have gradually learned that I can't help most people or their horses. If someone asks for help I will do what I can to assist, but I don't really feel that I have much to prove now. My horses tell me that I'm doing things alright by them and although I know that they are my life's work, I also feel that I need to focus on things that might make me a more immediate profit for a little while. Something that will maybe enable me to afford to spend at least a few years doing what I love most of all. I have used a lot of years up already, but with luck and some smarts, I think I could make enough to cross that bridge perhaps. If I can focus this dissolute mind on a couple of significant projects, at least.
Nobody goes through a decade of their life without being changed by it, but the horses, the change they have brought about in me has been so overwhelmingly positive. Every time I get to the field to be greeted with whickers and whiskery velvet muzzles, I am profoundly grateful for the grace that they bring and the person that they have helped me learn how to become.
A decade is a long time but I feel that I have spent that time well as regards my progress with horses. They were already central to the life I shared with my wife but having my own, in spite of my inexperience and general beginnerish awfulness ( paired with deep enthusiasm ) was a really big deal for me. Othello set me on the path of becoming a horseman, and the grief and pain of losing him fixed me on that course in a way that perhaps nothing else could have. The understanding of loss that I had gone through, gave me a connection to Sari when she lost one of the horses in her life a little later that year, which was how we first came to know one another.
Since then I have ridden colts in Texas, trained up a truly amazing trail horse, taught more than a handful of people about the basics ( and sometimes the less-basics ) of horsemanship and become a passable hand by British standards, albeit still the most average rider you will ever see. I'm working on that part. I have made some enduring friendships - including most of the people who will be reading this - and met a lot of brilliant, smart, interesting and sweet natured horses.
I have reached a different place now - that bright incandescence of enthusiasm is more of a steady glow now, it has resolved into part of me and, as you might have noticed, I am slower to share my opinions these days. It's not that I have lost confidence in them - I know more than I ever did and I am clearer about what needs to be done in many situations than most people are, but I have gradually learned that I can't help most people or their horses. If someone asks for help I will do what I can to assist, but I don't really feel that I have much to prove now. My horses tell me that I'm doing things alright by them and although I know that they are my life's work, I also feel that I need to focus on things that might make me a more immediate profit for a little while. Something that will maybe enable me to afford to spend at least a few years doing what I love most of all. I have used a lot of years up already, but with luck and some smarts, I think I could make enough to cross that bridge perhaps. If I can focus this dissolute mind on a couple of significant projects, at least.
Nobody goes through a decade of their life without being changed by it, but the horses, the change they have brought about in me has been so overwhelmingly positive. Every time I get to the field to be greeted with whickers and whiskery velvet muzzles, I am profoundly grateful for the grace that they bring and the person that they have helped me learn how to become.