A Fearful Wonder

Yesterday, while following a lead on an interesting project, I stumbled upon a video that I found to be profoundly moving.

I tried to put myself in their place, an incredible place in time when after a lifetime spent in darkness and pain, a door and windows magically open and I was to see the yellow sun, the green grass and a blue sky for the first time in 30 years. To see an open expanse that was mine to traverse at will after years spent behind bars in the cold steel of cages, entirely at the mercy of another being, a being that did not understand, care or care to know what this life meant to me. They cared only to know what I might contribute to theirs.

To at first stand in fearful wonder, not daring to trust this momentous opportunity. To disbelieve and question the validity of the open door before me, to reach but not quite dare to cross, not yet able to fathom the enormous and joyous change that had just occurred in my life, unbidden, unexpected, unbelievable. Miraculous.

All this plays out in clear and exquisite poetry across their faces. So does the instantaneous onset of joy and the desire to share and celebrate with their fellow retirees. It's all there for anyone with the eyes and heart to see.

When I returned to myself I found my heart opened and an overwhelming sense of hope. It is so easy to become jaded and cynical and to denounce the human race for all our evil doings and sad failings. Then I see something like this, and realize the immense effort and persistence that lay behind this one little moment in time when a return to some measure of freedom was given by the human heart that understood what it meant. No wonder everyone's crying. Including me.

 

Video: HSUS

 

 

 

Watch what happens at about 1:25....

 



Need a Laugh?

Need a laugh? I do. Some heavy lifting going on in this country these days, and I think, in the whole, wide world.......so many opposing forces, ideas and ideals, theories, philosophies and idealogies and hidden agendas and Good Lord it is a wonder anything gets done at all.

Yep, I have broken my cardinal rule and watched the news lately. Don't bother, I'll break it down for you.

It's all bad and we are all wrong one way or another. We're all going to hell in a handbasket, though nobody can agree upon how, why or whose fault it is, or the exact date, since our expiration date on Dec. 21st, 2012 has expired.

And that's the news. Good Night and Good Luck.

We might as well skip the handbasket and go out dancing. And when I do, I want to make it look something like this.

P.S. I dare you not to laugh, I dare you not to bounce in your chair!!!

Boston

It doesn't matter what I try to write this morning, I keep coming back to Boston. It's unfathomable the deplorable depths humanity will sink to and continue to glorify and defend. Whoever and whatever led to this scene of death and mutilation, someone, somewhere will start telling us there was a reason, a kernel of justification, our country should have or shouldn't have and it was just a few lives. What are three lives worth against the hundreds lost everyday elsewhere?

Three lives - and holding, for who knows what the final tally may be as dozens more lay fighting for their lives and learning to live without limbs that only yesterday had them standing on their own two feet, without arms that once held a loved one. Like a little 8 year old boy named Martin Richard, waiting for his father to finish the race, a little boy who is no more. His mother and sister survived, though his mother sustained brain injuries and his 6 year old sister lost a leg.

Trawling on Facebook this morning I saw people expressing solidarity and compassion, and I saw people questioning why they would. Really? Now we have to justify feeling empathy and sympathy for people undergoing horrible times? One response to an offering of empathy was Why? And what about the hundreds dying elsewhere everyday in similar circumstances? The implication appeared to be that the lives lost and bodies mutilated in Boston mattered less than the hundreds in wartorn countries.

 

Image: Truth University

I see. Tell that to the father whose family was just torn apart. See if he thinks the life of his 8 year old little boy matters less than any other life in the world. If his little daughter's leg matters less than any other leg in the world. If his wife's brain and her ability to function matters less than any other mother's brain in the world.

Because it's all relative and it works both ways. If we are to hold up some selfrighteous ideal about how every life matters and how big hearted we are to think of and honor those who go to their deaths anonymously every day, then we have to dole out the same respect to one life in a privileged country as we do to 100's in a country of war and terror. It can't be that the more lives anonymously lost count more than one known life lost. It can't be that geographical location determines whether it's a loss or inconsequential. That is just hypocritical.

Noone gets to choose where they are born, or how lucky or unlucky their circumstances may be. We only get to choose how we respond to our circumstances once we have arrived. Who knows what Martin Richard may have done with his life. He could have been the next Einstein for all we know.

And in a world that is all but stifled in fear and greed and hidden agendas, who the hell is ANYONE to question when someone offers an antidote, a heartfelt offering of grace and sympathy and compassion? Something the world could use a whole lot more of, last I checked. Something, with all due respect, those ridiculing people offering sympathy to the Bostonians, could use a whole lot more of.

Image: Someone on Facebook.....

The Torchlight Behind Torchlight Chronicles

A few people have been asking me what this Torchlight thing is all about. I guess they noticed it's a word that pops up alot where I am concerned. My website, my column at Horses For LIFE, now my blog.

Well, by now you probably get the drift that I am mildly infatuated (some would be rude enough to suggest this is the understatement of all time) with horses, dogs, cats, donkeys and the world of fauna and flora in general. You might have guessed that Torchlight is a horse. A beautiful, bloodbay Thoroughbred gelding who came off the track with a bowed tendon and the strange monicker, Tom the Torch. Considering the thousands of new Thoroughbreds born every year, I guess they can't all have cool names......

Photo Courtesy Coco at Firefly Photos. 

His new owner, a friend of mine, renamed him Major Tom. You know, the David Bowie song? Ground Control to Major Tom....he was aptly named at the time as when he left the stall his four hooves generally also left the ground for extended periods of time. Once recovered from his injury, I was tasked with helping bring him along and to instill in him the idea that he no longer had to run for the roses or express his extensive gymnastic talents under saddle in ways unsuited to preserving a rider's longevity.

Long story short, I was madly in love with this classically handsome, but deeply neurotic and damaged young horse from the word go. It was love at first sight. A few years went by and it was apparent he was more suited to me than to his owner, so when we moved to Texas from California, he came along.

Photo Courtesy Bill Laraia

That was ten years ago. With the move, a whole new phase in our lives began. With the change in environment, Tommy went from being interesting and challenging to near impossible. My learning curved increased exponentially....

We had alot of adventures together - we went a lot of places. We showed a little, we travelled to Colorado to experiment with Natural Horsemanship, we travelled far and wide for clinics with riders from the Spanish Riding School and teachers from schools of thought I respected and trusted. I had to be very careful in whose hands I placed us - Tom's trust in life and in me was as fragile as the shell of an egg.

Photo Courtesy Caren Ruthven

I renamed him Torchlight, because that is what being with him felt like - the journey with him was vague and challenging, faintly lit, each step barely illuminated till it fell behind us, but the learning I gleaned from this extraordinary teacher was worth it's weight in gold. He inspired my column at Horses For LIFE, Riding By Torchlight, a column that slowly but surely would change my life, just as he has.

Photo Courtesy Coco at Firefly Photos

 



Today, Torchlight has a new home after my failed experiment at retiring him. I felt he had given me all I had asked and all I could ask for, but he did not enjoy life as a pasture ornament, though God knows he had earned it. Torchlight is showered with daily attention, while enjoying showing Sarah all he knows and taking her on trail rides and foxhunting. At some 19 years old, Torchlight continues to shine a light for the humans around him. He still shines a light in my heart - I know I am the horsewoman I am today because of him and all he showed me I needed to learn. It is only fitting his name continues to grace my life and my efforts.

Photo Courtesy Coco at Firefly Photos

 

 



P.S. For the full story on how Torchlight and I met, you can read more about him at Horses For LIFE
and at my website on the articles page. Here is a quick link:  Torchlight's Story

Let It All Hang Out

 

 

When was the last time you let it all hang out?

Yeah, me too. Been awhile.

Busy, huh?

Yeah, me too.

Busy, busy, busy. Running here, there and everywhere.

What's that? Oh yeah, guess we have to learn to make time.

Create our own opportunities for fun and games and hanging out.

It's just so much easier when someone else does it for you. 

So isn't it nice that is exactly what someone did here?

Happy Friday Everyone.

Hope you get a chance to let it all hang out this weekend.

 

P.S. Who's your favorite? I have at least 4, including Pirouette Girl and Briefcase Man.

 

 

 

If I were a Dog......

If I was a dog in my house, I would live on a few acres nestled in the bosom of hundreds, even thousands of fence free acres. Well, not entirely fence free, but no 5 string wire fence could keep me in or out. I would be blessed with friendly neighbors who wave me on my way, and I'd be free to chase squirrels, rabbits and coyotes but I would soon learn chasing cats, horses, donkeys and cows are off limits. No matter, there are always buzzards to chase, too  -  and they fly! Which is both incredibly exciting and extraordinarily infuriating, so I'd bark my head off and jump up and down, which is great exercise. But I'm a dog, so I'd get over it pretty damn quick and go sniff out a fieldmouse.

I would soon learn that my people are easy to train, especially the female one. A day in my life would look something like this:

As soon as she stumbles out of bed, I put on my happiest, smiliest, waggiest face and refrain from commenting upon her lack of coordination and style. That seems to come later in the day with some humans. I present myself for a good morning rub and now that I have her trained, she immediately complies; fortunately, her motor skills still go that far even this early in the day. I am told how crazy, cute and handsome I am while I hustle and jostle my fellow dogs for her attention and we try to knock her off her feet, which so far has not been a successful venture but a dog can dream. It might knock the bag of treats out of her hand and let us at the yummy little suckers.

Now we allow for one of her little idiosyncracies - that is Good Dog Rule #1. Always allow your human their idiosyncracies -  it allows them to feel good about themselves if they think they are in control.

So we all sit prettily and smile for her while she hands out our morning treats. This, of course, makes no sense at all because what dog eats sitting down? But like I said, it's an idiosyncracy popular with humans and we allow it. She tells us this is for our own good to prevent a free-for-all ruckus. I don't know what her problem is with the ruckus, sounds good to me.

After treats we re-present for rubs and ruffles and then we are off into a magical world of scent and sights of major dog pleasing proportions. We run and play and roll in all manner of wonderfully smelly stuff, the cowpatties especially get a big reaction out of our humans and we dogs like to get big reactions, so we do our best to roll in good smelling stuff. We also eat all kinds of interesting things that happily, the humans seem to have no interest in so we don't have to share, though, of course, we would if asked.

That's Good Dog Rule #2 Always share with human when asked. It's my favorite rule because they never want to share my best stuff, like horse apples and old bones and the occasional dead something or other that we come across in our travels.

Then we show up back at the house and wait for her to come out and give us our mid morning scratches and tell us what stinky dogs we are. Stinky and silly but happy, she calls it, and then she shakes her head and rolls her eyes. Not sure what that is all about. Humans can be pretty incomprehensible at times. The only smell we have learned to avoid is skunk, because that brings on all manner of strange bathing rituals. I cannot for the life of me figure out why they think tomato juice and vinegar make for a nice perfume.

Then it's time for a mid morning nap, while the humans get busy. This of course is quite bizarre, for every dog knows you need a good nap 7 times a day, starting with right after the morning excursion. In fact, days are made for napping and we do lots of that, in the sun, in the shade, on the porch, in the middle of the field. But humans will insist on forgoing any nap it seems. Oh well - it's their loss.

If I'm lucky - and one of the little dogs - she will be running errands and I will get to go for a ride, hanging my head out the window, catching one intriguing scent after the other and barking at dogs as we roll on by.

 

 

But now comes the best part - after a day of hard napping and a few run abouts, it's dinner time. So we start barking and scratching doors and sitting in front of her window looking pathetic and - reflecting her excellent training courtesy of our pack effort - dinner soon appears. Some days she is a better cook than others. But we are good dogs who like to make her happy and eat up regardless, all except Chico who is ancient and picky and likes to talk her into hand feeding him. That's a trick I am studying, but I think I have to be alot older before she'll believe me.

Now we study the nightskies and howl with the coyotes, chase the bunnies coming out to eat at night and take an after dinner nap. After dinner naps are favorites because we are full and sleepy, but then she will insist on waking us up to come in for bedtime, because otherwise we will bark and howl and wake her up, and unlike dogs, she does not like to be woken up every time something interesting happens, like an owl flies over or the neighbors dog comes by or a skunk passes through. But we comply ( see Good Dog Rule #1) and curl up on our cushy dogbeds in the mudroom and nap the night away.

That's Good Dog Rule #3 Sleep every chance you get. Humans love a dog that can lie down and relax when not expected to perform.

Yep, if I were a dog of mine, that would be my life. It's a dog's life, alright. And I want it.

Nature

Yesterday as I headed down my driveway I came across a turtle crawling across the road from our pond and presumably, on his way to our neighbors pond. I stopped and got out to move him and my ears were immediately filled with a high, piercing sound, repeated over and over. I turned and saw a beautiful little bird dancing around on the ground trying to get my attention, broken wing dragging dramatically.

A-ha. I must have stopped right near a nest. Leaving the turtle for the moment, I walked carefully towards the Killdeer Piper, who was putting on an impressive display of how ready for the dinner pot she was. Sure enough, there on the side of the road in a small, circular nest of stone and pebbles, blending perfectly with the driveway gravel, rested three perfect little eggs. I felt like the luckiest treasure hunter in the world, to have puzzled it out and found this delicate little piece of proof of Nature's resilience. Killdeer Pipers are known for nesting in strangely open and flat areas that seem highly unsafe and yet, they are ubiquitous in Texas. So I guess it works well enough for them.

To the great relief of the Killdeer ( whose wing magically mended as soon as I walked away) I turned my attention to the turtle, still huddling in his shell in the middle of the road. I picked him up and was about to set him down in the grass and go on my merry way but instead I sat down and took a closer look. What a strange, strange creature a turtle is. From a far he looks like a greenish grey lump of nothing special, but up close I had to marvel at the finely scalloped edges of his shell, the markings on his wrinkly skin, the perfect pattern of his body armor. Even his funny little face expresses more personality than some people I know. I sat there and marvelled to think that this little guy was just another turtle in a long line of a species that has been around for over 200 million years. So however odd I may find them, I guess it works well enough for them.

Driving on to my errands, I got lost in thoughts of our natural world. How resilient yet fragile it is, vulnerable to our insanity. I thought about rhinos who have roamed our planet for 50 million years but today are more in danger than ever of going extinct. I thought of giraffes and how they have become a bizarre target for some trophy hunters although their numbers, too, are dwindling rapidly. I thought of lions whose numbers have dropped below a palsy 30,000 in all of Africa. I thought of a majestic bull elephant, a real Tusker named Heritage who I think I saw in the Mara but will never see again for sure. Poachers made sure of that.

Photo: Mara Elephant Project

I thought of the sheer brutality with which poachers are now killing off our fellow planet dwellers. Literally hacking the tusks from elephants and horns from rhinos while they are still living. Strangling giraffes and antelope in wicked snares. They don't even afford them a clean death. The pictures I have seen but will not share haunt me. They would haunt you too, so - I won't share. This one is bad enough.

I thought of the dramatic increase in poaching over the past few years and the estimates that tell us that if this continues or, God forbid, escalates, we will have no elephants left in the wild in just a decade or two. I know the end of their species would be just the beginning of the end of an untold number of species who live in perfect symbiosis with the elephant, a keystone species, depending upon them as landscape architects to provide food, water and shelter.

Photo : Billy Dodson

www.savannaimages.com

I thought of a world even less populated by wildlife than the one we live in today.

I thought of a world in which I could not bear to live.