The Bridle Rain, Why I Ride

I come from a long line of horseman, some were ranchers, some were cavalrymen. I was lucky to have spent some early childhood days stuffed between my uncle's lap and a saddle horn. I think my young mind was so empty that the neurological inputs from sitting up there in front of my uncle went straight into the area of my brain where all the defaults are stored.

I spent a good bit of my life away from horses, but they always made sense to me. I realized that when I began to ride again, much of my intuition about horses and communicating with them was exactly what today's modern equestrian clinicians were teaching. If this was taught to me I do not remember it. The validation that comes from having your basal instincts confirmed and endorsed is incredible.

I had a close friend in college that used to say that you have to go sleep outside in the cold every once in a while to remind yourself that you are alive. I never did that, but I baptized myself one day by laying down in a park in the middle of a rain storm and letting the rain fall on me. The steady percussion of raindrops and the water completely soaking my skin woke me up. I realized that I was not really alive unless I let my guard down and became a participant in the world whirling around my wet body. When I take a risk and survive, I am energized.

The great thing about horses is that everything about training them must be honest. You can not talk them into something, you can not trick them and you cannot dominate them. No shortcuts and no fool proof method.

Every horseman dreams of having a mount that can sense what he is thinking, assess the situation and act and react in concert with the rider. In the search for that kind of relationship with an animal, the horseman becomes a sculptor of muscle, hide and bone. The problem is the horse and rider age and change every day, the artwork is never finished and is always in pursuit of the unattainable. In the end, the failure to complete becomes the most interesting element of the work.

The effort reconciles the art to the reality of my life.