Frayed Feisty Threads - Book IV

Tally ho, Sally! 8/23/2006

Her eye was a soft deep pool of brown. Sally had thick beautiful lashes and a long, flowing mane. She stood quite still, patient, nuzzling her owner and sniffing at the newcomer. As we tacked her up, we chatted, about life, family and friends, weaving a connection between us, the dangling threads becoming firm cloth. A piece of each of our life’s tapestries were now connected. Sally stood quietly between Sheri and me, ready for her ride.

Eyeing the height of it the mounting block skeptically, I grabbed a fistful of mane and hitched myself into the seat. Surprised by the agility that I managed, I settled in to a most comfortable spot for final inspection. As we moved upward toward the riding ring, Sally’s mountain skills and sure-footedness were small blessings in disguise.

Perched on the top of a hill, tucked in between pastures and a trail was a double – O riding ring. The view from the top was breathtaking! Surrounded by horses of all ages in pastures, content and curious, we started.

There are those moments in life when you know that you have tapped into something that is deep within you. Defining moments, we call them, Those days when all of life’s sharp and blurred edges seem to coalesce into a distinct and tangible entity that you feel with your entire being, and yet lack words to describe. This was to become one of those days.

Sally, her brown and white spots gleaming was a horse born ready. Her proud grey tall stallion father was a jumper and all around eventer. Her Paint side was evident in her beauty and her disposition. She was butter on hot wheels. Her goal – move. Forward and fast preferably and exert as little effort into the corners as possible. Take them quick and on the inside. My goal – ride an even pace. Somewhere between getting to know you and admiring horses, taking instruction and warming up, Sally decided I was acceptable. I decided to keep my legs still and learned quickly to keep my hands down.

We were working circles, each one getting better. I was taking in the scenery, the world and breathing deep into my lungs, clean mountain air. And that’s when it happened. We decided to trust each other. Or rather, I decided to trust her and she decided to allow me the luxury of a paced even ride. Regal and beautiful, with flowing mane and stunning surefootedness, she responded repeatedly and quickly to my requests. A squeeze on a rein here, an adjustment there. Her moves appeared intuitive.

Elegant and beautiful, rounding corners on the outside of the track, she trotted uphill. The transition in her astounded me. I knew that we were beginning to weave a connection. It was, as expressed in song by Streisand, “a feeling deep in your soul, once you were half, now you’re whole”. And it happened more and more, especially when we took that uphill trot in the ring. Riding her up that hill felt weightless and like flying. Did I suddenly grow wings? Did Sally?

Noticing the transition too, the instructor explained that as I relaxed, Sally was able to collect her strength and energy underneath me and use her back legs to push us both forward. Detached, I heard and tucked away the technical information for later examination.

My focus was the feeling of incredible indescribable energy, strength and gentleness propelling me forward. And the rhythm, the syncopated steadiness of that rhythm. Could I sustain this, repeat it? How could I find words to describe this?

In the midst of this Pennsylvania mountain, another life tapestry started. Hours after the lesson ended, the ride finished, the peace and contentment in stirring excitement remained deep in my soul. The rhythm of motion translated to the motion of my life. True healing of spirit and soul takes place in the quiet moments. Sally, the quiet regal, tall Paint with the deep brown eyes turned my world over, and we both knew it.

It was, for me, the ride of my life. It was like falling in love.

Love comes in on tiptoe.
Well what’ya know?
It’s a quiet thing,
A very quiet thing.

8/23/2006