The next time I saw Magnolia, it was for my first lesson with Maura.
It's strange, how much context has to do with perception. Not surprising, really, but certainly disconcerting. As I drove once again onto the small farm, things were very different. I was coming now as a student, and I was visiting not during the empty, silent evening, but during the afternoon rush hour. "Rush hour" at a small, private barn meant that about five clients were there (and that would be including myself). At Magnolia, this truly is busy--they have three stalls for cross-ties.
Reyna was there, as was Becky, another girl I had gone to school with. I didn't know the other two--a high school girl, and a nine-year-old. I was still skeptical about Magnolia at this point. My experiences at Carousel Farms had taught me that a good barn was hard to come by, and I had, for years, been turned off my the Magnolia girls' snobby attitude, as if their barn were better than all the others. But I tried to turn off all my prejudgment and focus on forming an opinion of Magnolia based on my experiences there, rather than the stories I'd heard.
That day was the first time I met Maura. I can still remember it perfectly; I was thrilled to meet the woman who would possibly become my new trainer, and I was extra attentive as I walked out to the ring to watch her finish up a lesson she was giving.
More than anything else, her breeches were what made a first impression. They were a shade of teal that I have yet to find a name for--something in between wave and dark cyan. She stood, thin and tan, in the center of the ring, her posture lax and her voice even. She had long, dusty brown hair that was pulled into a loose ponytail at the nape of her neck. She was guiding Reyna and her horse through some lateral work, and she appeared to me to be teaching in a calm, confident manner. I only had a limited take on her lesson, though, because her back was to me for most of the time, and it partially obscured her voice. But I knew we would have plenty of time to get acquainted in the ring; I would have to work with her for an hour all by myself in my private lesson that afternoon.
A private lesson at a new barn with a new trainer on a new horse had me just a little bit nervous, and when I get on edge, I think my short-term memory malfunctions. I have only the vaguest memory of a boarder leading me on a tour of the barn (which couldn't have lasted more than two minutes) and explaining to me the inner workings of the tack room. I think she even introduced me to Blaze (remember him?), the horse Maura wanted me to ride. It was all very laid back, something I was not yet accustomed to in a barn.
And then it came time for me to finally meet my maybe-new-trainer. She met halfway to the ring, as I concluded my official tour of Magnolia, and the sight of her took my surprise. I remember thinking that she was older than my other instructors, which makes me laugh now, because she was only then in her late twenties. But it was true. I had, for the past several years, trained with college kids who boarded their horses at Carousel Farms and gave lessons to pay off their board. Someone who was not a sorority girl earning her green jumper's keep was a new experience for me.
And Maura was certainly no college kid. She was originally from California, and had that certain California quality that's very hard to describe but easy to place. Not a Hollywood quality, mind you, but a California one. Anyone I've ever met who was truly from California has it--that certain genuine something that's difficult to name.
We spoke briefly before heading back toward the barn. "Are you ready to start your lesson?" she asked. And I nodded, but I think there was something in my face that gave away my nerves.
She laughed easily, and began to explain what her lessons were normally like, in order, I think, to get my mind off the butterflies in my stomach. If it was an attempt to ease my nerves, it worked. It was hard, in this charming, open place, to be nervous or scared. I clearly remember the feeling that washed over me as I led a horse for the first time down the spacious arena: it was serenity to the point of bliss.
I felt at home here at Magnolia, and I was being welcome more than I had ever expected. I could only pray, as I mentally prepared myself for the upcoming hour, that my lesson would go well. Because if I didn't like Magnolia, I was all out of options.
Monday, March 22, 2010
Saturday, March 20, 2010
West Coast Friendship: Part Two
Hello, blog. Long time no see.
I think I'll continue with my West Coast Friendship story. Here's Part One, in case you haven't read that yet.
_________________________
Walking into Magnolia was like walking through the gates of Heaven. It was love at first sight, un coup de foudre.
The barn was much smaller than I was used to. Pulling onto the property in the back of Reyna's SUV (well, her mother's SUV), I could see the entire scope of the farm. A large covered arena; a few compact paddocks, barely more than corrals; a small field for grazing; and a single, thirty-horse barn. It was all fresh--recently renovated and very homey looking. The air was calm and quiet as we unloaded Reyna's horse. She was busy dealing him, and I was busy falling in love.
Beautiful horses nickered at me, their heads swinging curiously over their simple stall doors. They a front-row seat for any show going on in the barn, as the stables were constructed in an open, airy manner with the tack room and cross-ties and wash stalls as the center point. A few lean barn cats were perched lazily on the tops of stalls, and the barn smelled like fresh cedar and warm oats.
This warm, serene place was unlike any stables I'd ever been to. It was an oasis, and I had grown used to roaming the desert.
That night, I dialed Carousel Farms and let them know that I would never be coming back.
I had a few weeks' hiatus as I tried to get in touch with the owner of Magnolia. I hadn't really thought my plan through, and I'd 'resigned' from Carousel before I even so much as had a phone number for Magnolia. I didn't know if they'd even have room for me, and I spent a few days in a miserable game of phone tag.
Finally, about two weeks after the show at Carousel, I was able to reach the owner of Magnolia over the phone. I briefly explained to her what I'd been through my trainer back at Carousel Farm, and she didn't blink twice.
"Of course." Her tone was professional, yet she somehow managed to convey in those simple words that she understood. The horse world is small, and no doubt, she knew exactly how awful things could be at Carousel. "You can come on over whenever you'd like. I'll give you the number of our new trainer. Her name's Maura, and I think you two will get along."
To be continued...
I think I'll continue with my West Coast Friendship story. Here's Part One, in case you haven't read that yet.
_________________________
Walking into Magnolia was like walking through the gates of Heaven. It was love at first sight, un coup de foudre.
The barn was much smaller than I was used to. Pulling onto the property in the back of Reyna's SUV (well, her mother's SUV), I could see the entire scope of the farm. A large covered arena; a few compact paddocks, barely more than corrals; a small field for grazing; and a single, thirty-horse barn. It was all fresh--recently renovated and very homey looking. The air was calm and quiet as we unloaded Reyna's horse. She was busy dealing him, and I was busy falling in love.
Beautiful horses nickered at me, their heads swinging curiously over their simple stall doors. They a front-row seat for any show going on in the barn, as the stables were constructed in an open, airy manner with the tack room and cross-ties and wash stalls as the center point. A few lean barn cats were perched lazily on the tops of stalls, and the barn smelled like fresh cedar and warm oats.
This warm, serene place was unlike any stables I'd ever been to. It was an oasis, and I had grown used to roaming the desert.
That night, I dialed Carousel Farms and let them know that I would never be coming back.
I had a few weeks' hiatus as I tried to get in touch with the owner of Magnolia. I hadn't really thought my plan through, and I'd 'resigned' from Carousel before I even so much as had a phone number for Magnolia. I didn't know if they'd even have room for me, and I spent a few days in a miserable game of phone tag.
Finally, about two weeks after the show at Carousel, I was able to reach the owner of Magnolia over the phone. I briefly explained to her what I'd been through my trainer back at Carousel Farm, and she didn't blink twice.
"Of course." Her tone was professional, yet she somehow managed to convey in those simple words that she understood. The horse world is small, and no doubt, she knew exactly how awful things could be at Carousel. "You can come on over whenever you'd like. I'll give you the number of our new trainer. Her name's Maura, and I think you two will get along."
To be continued...
Thursday, March 18, 2010
A Smart(Pak) Career
I am taking a break from our story to comment on a pretty cool company most of you have heard of: SmartPak.
Today was the infamous Career Day, and I heard from an array of professionals in all different lines of work. My unique predicament with careers is that I know what I want to do, but at the same time I don't. It has always been my dream to be a writer, but I am not the starving artist type. I realized long ago that I would need a "real" job to support me after college until my earnings from writing can financially support me. On that note, an English major is out of the question; I am not a teaching type (except maybe at the postsecondary level, but even so I can't afford to pay for a private school PhD right now), and other than teaching and writing, there isn't much else an English degree is good for. So my career search has long revolved around finding a job that I'm interested in doing until I can do what I simply love to do: write.
I've been waffling around through a large hub of possible jobs for the past year or so, and today, I discovered a choice I would probably never have considered on my own: marketing. There weren't many speakers with careers I was interested in (postsecondary education, neuroscience, performance psychology, diversity management), so I found myself hitting up all the business and mass comm speakers. After all, I've always been mildly interested in owning my own riding academy or boarding barn. I was also, once upon a time, considering a job in event planning. And then I found out the salary and ran for the hills.
But I found this marketing speaker of more value than I expected. I went to see her based on the suggestion of a friend of mine, and I realized halfway into her presentation that not only was this a job I wouldn't mind doing (hands on, creative, only four years of college needed, and the possibility of promotion and growth), but it was also very possible for me to tie a job in marketing to the equestrian world.
I read in What Color is Your Parachute? that you can take almost any job you can think of, any skills you have, and apply them to your passion or interests. If your passion is flight, but you can't be a pilot, you can contribute by designing seats for airplanes, getting a job planning flight schedules, working to create a greener plane fuel... Anything, really. By connecting the jobs you are capable of having to things you are passionate about doing, you are much more likely to find your job fulfilling. And for me, that means the possibility of connecting my career to the horse world.
It's my first thought when I consider a job: How can I apply this to horses or riders? I want to write; I can write about equestrians. I am interested in psychology; I can become a performance psychologist and help competitive riders. I may want to study and research neuroscience; as a researcher, I could use my findings to recommend safety regulations to horse show regulations. The application of a job to the horse world is not a must for me, but it is a huge perk. As I considered marketing, the thought came to my mind: I could work in the marketing department of Dover Saddlery or SmartPak.
So what did I do when I got home but check out big equine supplies companies and their marketing programs. I found a little blurb on the Dover website about interships, nothing on the Equestrian Collections or State Line Tack sites, but on the SmartPak website? Jackpot! Not only do they list their current job openings, but they also provide what qualifications those applying should have and the skills they will need: a useful tool for me to look into the future. Really, SmartPak sells you on working there. They've garnered tons of awards from national magazines, such as the Best Bosses/Winning Workplaces award and the Globe's 100 Best Places to Work (rare awards, really, for an equine company). And then I saw their benefits.
You may have also heard my concern about affording a horse in The Price of Owning a Horse. Well, SmartPak seems to share the same concern about their employees, and as a company, they take measures to ensure that those who want a horse can afford one. Forget the usual employee discount (although they have that, too), and say hello to the Active Riders Program. "Board a horse and ride regularly?" the company asks. "In exchange for monthly testing and using SmartPak products and reporting on the results, we’ll pay a percentage of your horse’s monthly board or lease." Now that's a perk! If only they offered it to non-employees willing to test out products! ^^
At any rate, the world of marketing is definitely a possibility for me, and the equine world can make that job worthwhile. Will you being seeing me at SmartPak a few years from now? You never, folks. You never know.
Today was the infamous Career Day, and I heard from an array of professionals in all different lines of work. My unique predicament with careers is that I know what I want to do, but at the same time I don't. It has always been my dream to be a writer, but I am not the starving artist type. I realized long ago that I would need a "real" job to support me after college until my earnings from writing can financially support me. On that note, an English major is out of the question; I am not a teaching type (except maybe at the postsecondary level, but even so I can't afford to pay for a private school PhD right now), and other than teaching and writing, there isn't much else an English degree is good for. So my career search has long revolved around finding a job that I'm interested in doing until I can do what I simply love to do: write.
I've been waffling around through a large hub of possible jobs for the past year or so, and today, I discovered a choice I would probably never have considered on my own: marketing. There weren't many speakers with careers I was interested in (postsecondary education, neuroscience, performance psychology, diversity management), so I found myself hitting up all the business and mass comm speakers. After all, I've always been mildly interested in owning my own riding academy or boarding barn. I was also, once upon a time, considering a job in event planning. And then I found out the salary and ran for the hills.
But I found this marketing speaker of more value than I expected. I went to see her based on the suggestion of a friend of mine, and I realized halfway into her presentation that not only was this a job I wouldn't mind doing (hands on, creative, only four years of college needed, and the possibility of promotion and growth), but it was also very possible for me to tie a job in marketing to the equestrian world.
I read in What Color is Your Parachute? that you can take almost any job you can think of, any skills you have, and apply them to your passion or interests. If your passion is flight, but you can't be a pilot, you can contribute by designing seats for airplanes, getting a job planning flight schedules, working to create a greener plane fuel... Anything, really. By connecting the jobs you are capable of having to things you are passionate about doing, you are much more likely to find your job fulfilling. And for me, that means the possibility of connecting my career to the horse world.
It's my first thought when I consider a job: How can I apply this to horses or riders? I want to write; I can write about equestrians. I am interested in psychology; I can become a performance psychologist and help competitive riders. I may want to study and research neuroscience; as a researcher, I could use my findings to recommend safety regulations to horse show regulations. The application of a job to the horse world is not a must for me, but it is a huge perk. As I considered marketing, the thought came to my mind: I could work in the marketing department of Dover Saddlery or SmartPak.
So what did I do when I got home but check out big equine supplies companies and their marketing programs. I found a little blurb on the Dover website about interships, nothing on the Equestrian Collections or State Line Tack sites, but on the SmartPak website? Jackpot! Not only do they list their current job openings, but they also provide what qualifications those applying should have and the skills they will need: a useful tool for me to look into the future. Really, SmartPak sells you on working there. They've garnered tons of awards from national magazines, such as the Best Bosses/Winning Workplaces award and the Globe's 100 Best Places to Work (rare awards, really, for an equine company). And then I saw their benefits.
You may have also heard my concern about affording a horse in The Price of Owning a Horse. Well, SmartPak seems to share the same concern about their employees, and as a company, they take measures to ensure that those who want a horse can afford one. Forget the usual employee discount (although they have that, too), and say hello to the Active Riders Program. "Board a horse and ride regularly?" the company asks. "In exchange for monthly testing and using SmartPak products and reporting on the results, we’ll pay a percentage of your horse’s monthly board or lease." Now that's a perk! If only they offered it to non-employees willing to test out products! ^^
At any rate, the world of marketing is definitely a possibility for me, and the equine world can make that job worthwhile. Will you being seeing me at SmartPak a few years from now? You never, folks. You never know.
Tuesday, March 16, 2010
West Coast Friendship: Part One
Gray skies, a slight headache, and nothing to do. I'm feeling story-time coming on once again...
I think I made it clear enough at the end of The Story that Never Was that, once Jake left, I did not stay long at Carousel Farms. At that point in my life, I was a very immature rider, and I think as you compare that story with my life today, you can tell the difference between the insecure, unguided child I was and the confident horseman I am today. I owe a great part of that equestrian metamorphosis to a wonderful riding instructor I happened to stumble across after my departure from Carousel Farms. She was a woman by the name of Maura, and this is the story of how I found her--and, in the process, found myself.
_____________________________________
Flash, for a moment, back to Carousel Farms. It was a time after Jake had been sent away, when my lessons were being taught by college students trying to work off their board fees. Carousel Farms was hosting a weekend schooling show for local riders, and though I wouldn't be competing, I decided to go and watch for the fun of it.
I was walking around the grounds with a friend mine before the Saturday morning classes began when I heard someone call out, "Abigail?" I turned for one second, and then did a double-take, because the girl who had just called my name was leading an absolutely stunning chestnut paint horse and looked very much like my old friend Reyna, whom I had once gone to school with. Only Reyna, as of the last time I saw her, had never been on a horse in her life.
It took a bit of an explanation on her part for me to realize that yes, it truly was Reyna, and yes, she did now own this overly-expensive, breathtaking horse. (Life likes to be unfair, but what it loves more than anything is to rub my face in it.) Apparently, she had been taking several lessons a week for the past year, briefly engaged in a two month lease with a flighty mare, and then settled on buying the gelding. The sale had only been final a week.
I gave her a tour of Carousel. The grounds are fairly big for a city barn, and it can be hard to find everything your first time there. As we walked around, Reyna kept up a commentary on the barn. "Oh, you don't have warm water in the wash rack? My horse is used to warm water." "This is place so big. You don't get to know anyone. At my barn, we're like family." "How many rules do y'all have here? Everywhere I turn, there's more rules posted!"
It was slightly irritating, although I wasn't fan of the barn myself either. I was, at this point, idly looking around for a new place to ride. The location where I live is not horse country, and I knew of all the local barns- I also knew there was no place I truly wanted to ride. But, out of curiosity, I asked Reyna what barn she and her horse happened to call home.
"Oh, I ride at Magnolia." Of course. That explained it. I knew several people who rode at Magnolia, and they were all stuck up about it. It seemed the one thing that barn guaranteed to all their students was a lesson in gloating. Which was slightly amusing, because they seemed to get all the cast-off trainers and horses from Carousel Farms.
And so commenced my day of hearing praises sung about the glorious Magnolia, and how Reyna could not have been happier to be there. I simply rolled my eyes at most of it, chalking it up to exaggeration and snobbery, but what did pique my interest was hearing that their former trainer, Alexis, had left. I had ridden briefly with Alexis at Carousel Farms years before; she had been my trainer at my first real show and, after telling me nothing about what to bring or what to wear, screamed at me in my face for wearing the same attire I wore to lessons. I was all of about nine years old. I never did like Alexis much after that.
So the first day of the show passed with me hearing about Reyna's wonderful horse and wonderful barn, but also of how she was in between trainers and how she hoped her new one would be good. The second day didn't go much differently, only this time Reyna actually had classes to compete in, and, at the end of the show, she and her mom offered me a ride home.
"We only have to stop at Magnolia first to put the horse up," she clarified. "If you don't mind."
Little did I know, those were the words that would change my life.
To be continued.
I think I made it clear enough at the end of The Story that Never Was that, once Jake left, I did not stay long at Carousel Farms. At that point in my life, I was a very immature rider, and I think as you compare that story with my life today, you can tell the difference between the insecure, unguided child I was and the confident horseman I am today. I owe a great part of that equestrian metamorphosis to a wonderful riding instructor I happened to stumble across after my departure from Carousel Farms. She was a woman by the name of Maura, and this is the story of how I found her--and, in the process, found myself.
_____________________________________
Flash, for a moment, back to Carousel Farms. It was a time after Jake had been sent away, when my lessons were being taught by college students trying to work off their board fees. Carousel Farms was hosting a weekend schooling show for local riders, and though I wouldn't be competing, I decided to go and watch for the fun of it.
I was walking around the grounds with a friend mine before the Saturday morning classes began when I heard someone call out, "Abigail?" I turned for one second, and then did a double-take, because the girl who had just called my name was leading an absolutely stunning chestnut paint horse and looked very much like my old friend Reyna, whom I had once gone to school with. Only Reyna, as of the last time I saw her, had never been on a horse in her life.
It took a bit of an explanation on her part for me to realize that yes, it truly was Reyna, and yes, she did now own this overly-expensive, breathtaking horse. (Life likes to be unfair, but what it loves more than anything is to rub my face in it.) Apparently, she had been taking several lessons a week for the past year, briefly engaged in a two month lease with a flighty mare, and then settled on buying the gelding. The sale had only been final a week.
I gave her a tour of Carousel. The grounds are fairly big for a city barn, and it can be hard to find everything your first time there. As we walked around, Reyna kept up a commentary on the barn. "Oh, you don't have warm water in the wash rack? My horse is used to warm water." "This is place so big. You don't get to know anyone. At my barn, we're like family." "How many rules do y'all have here? Everywhere I turn, there's more rules posted!"
It was slightly irritating, although I wasn't fan of the barn myself either. I was, at this point, idly looking around for a new place to ride. The location where I live is not horse country, and I knew of all the local barns- I also knew there was no place I truly wanted to ride. But, out of curiosity, I asked Reyna what barn she and her horse happened to call home.
"Oh, I ride at Magnolia." Of course. That explained it. I knew several people who rode at Magnolia, and they were all stuck up about it. It seemed the one thing that barn guaranteed to all their students was a lesson in gloating. Which was slightly amusing, because they seemed to get all the cast-off trainers and horses from Carousel Farms.
And so commenced my day of hearing praises sung about the glorious Magnolia, and how Reyna could not have been happier to be there. I simply rolled my eyes at most of it, chalking it up to exaggeration and snobbery, but what did pique my interest was hearing that their former trainer, Alexis, had left. I had ridden briefly with Alexis at Carousel Farms years before; she had been my trainer at my first real show and, after telling me nothing about what to bring or what to wear, screamed at me in my face for wearing the same attire I wore to lessons. I was all of about nine years old. I never did like Alexis much after that.
So the first day of the show passed with me hearing about Reyna's wonderful horse and wonderful barn, but also of how she was in between trainers and how she hoped her new one would be good. The second day didn't go much differently, only this time Reyna actually had classes to compete in, and, at the end of the show, she and her mom offered me a ride home.
"We only have to stop at Magnolia first to put the horse up," she clarified. "If you don't mind."
Little did I know, those were the words that would change my life.
To be continued.
Monday, March 15, 2010
The Price of Owning a Horse: Who can afford this?
I long ago realized the amount of time and money it takes to keep and ride horses. Not having a horse of my own to worry about cut the time and money by about 90% and as I was never the one paying my Dover bills or my training fees, I never much worried about the money.
Now, as I contemplate the step from simply exercising other people's horses and taking lessons to leasing (and eventually buying) a horse of my own, I can't fathom how people make it work. It seems to me that the people whose jobs make enough money to allow them to own a horse would be too busy working to take care of it, and the other percent of the population can't even afford one! Given the numbers of people who do own or lease horses, this logic is obviously flawed, but even so, I can't imagine the sacrifices some people must make in order to have their own horses.
Let's see... The fees I've seen locally are $700/month for board, plus you have to buy bedding and feed (unless the barn chooses to include feed in the boarding fee), plus shoeing every other month (what's that? like $80, from what I've heard), vet bills (again, I've heard about $400/year if the horse remains perfectly health- a big if!), as well as any miscellaneous fees like if a piece of tack breaks, if the horse gets sick or has foot problems, any lessons, or surprises that may come up. And if, on top of that, you want to show! Good God!
Let's see, excluding show fees and lessons, that's about $10,000 a year! Factoring in that most people check in with a trainer, go to shows, buy new tack and new clothing (for riding and for everyday), as well as the fact that everyone has to eat and has countless bills to pay, even the minimum cost for keeping a horse is a chunk of money bigger than my private school tuition!
I can't fathom how people who aren't born into money manage to make it work--and yet thousands of them do! As I calculate the costs (of both time and money) of leasing a horse, I can't help but feel respect for all the people who manage to own horses without going broke. And I also can't help but feel that I, for one, will never be able to afford to lease, much less buy, a horse.
Hats off to those of you who lease or own. Any thoughts on how to make this work?
Now, as I contemplate the step from simply exercising other people's horses and taking lessons to leasing (and eventually buying) a horse of my own, I can't fathom how people make it work. It seems to me that the people whose jobs make enough money to allow them to own a horse would be too busy working to take care of it, and the other percent of the population can't even afford one! Given the numbers of people who do own or lease horses, this logic is obviously flawed, but even so, I can't imagine the sacrifices some people must make in order to have their own horses.
Let's see... The fees I've seen locally are $700/month for board, plus you have to buy bedding and feed (unless the barn chooses to include feed in the boarding fee), plus shoeing every other month (what's that? like $80, from what I've heard), vet bills (again, I've heard about $400/year if the horse remains perfectly health- a big if!), as well as any miscellaneous fees like if a piece of tack breaks, if the horse gets sick or has foot problems, any lessons, or surprises that may come up. And if, on top of that, you want to show! Good God!
Let's see, excluding show fees and lessons, that's about $10,000 a year! Factoring in that most people check in with a trainer, go to shows, buy new tack and new clothing (for riding and for everyday), as well as the fact that everyone has to eat and has countless bills to pay, even the minimum cost for keeping a horse is a chunk of money bigger than my private school tuition!
I can't fathom how people who aren't born into money manage to make it work--and yet thousands of them do! As I calculate the costs (of both time and money) of leasing a horse, I can't help but feel respect for all the people who manage to own horses without going broke. And I also can't help but feel that I, for one, will never be able to afford to lease, much less buy, a horse.
Hats off to those of you who lease or own. Any thoughts on how to make this work?
Sunday, March 14, 2010
Lessons from the Grand Prix Ring
I truly got to see some flying horses last night at Tails But No Black Tie, New Orleans's only grand prix event. It's a calcutta that raises money for City Park, and it's held at a stable where I used to ride. It was fun, of course. (When is it not fun to watch world-class riders in their element?) But it was also a night filled with lessons. As it turns out, the atmosphere of the Grand Prix Ring fosters an educational environment.
As I compared this other stables and these other riders with my current riding situation, I had a moment of spiritual insight, in which I realized what it truly is that d
raws me to a barn. It's not the facilities or the horses or the trainers or anything that ever logically occurred to me. All along, I've been thinking that those things were what appealed to me in a riding center, but that's not it at all. What I really want is acceptance. And don't we all? To feel like a part of the family; to be, as I was identified as last night, "a Magnolia girl"; to feel like my presence at that place makes a difference to not only the horses but the people who are there. The physical qualities of a farm are all very important, but it's really the intangible things that matter. And I think that's at least a little bit true for everyone.
I also learned that everyone shows off, just a little bit (you should see these riders try to impress the crowd!), but humility can pay off. There was a little bit sad/mostly funny moment last night when I rider in the jump-off had flown around the course impossibly fast and was clean riding up to the last fence. Assuming he would make the last fence (which is generally an easier jump for the horses), the audience began to applaud the fantastic round, and the rider began to show off. He urged his horse into a head-long gallop, beelining it for the last fence and then the finish line, but in his display, he got his horse too flat and they positively tore down the last fence. They were so busy showing off, he couldn't regain enough of his horse to make it over the jump in one piece! Humility pays off, my friends.
I also had the reaffirmation
that, yeah, they may not blink as they gallop up to a six foot fence, but regardless, Grand Prix riders are not the equestrian gods some people make them out to be. As the celebrities of the horse world, "they're people, too." It was strange, watching firsthand as women I had just seen storm the arena with power and passion fuss with their horses as they put them back into their stalls, talking idly about whether to trailer back that night or the next morning, making jokes about their rides and their horses. How they're able to come off the high of rushing over huge fences in order to chat idly with their friends just minutes later, I'll never understand. But somehow they can do it. I guess it's somewhat of a normal ride for them.
I love horse shows of any kind, because there's something to be learned just from people watching, never mind actually watching the riders and their trainers. But there's something about watching the grand prix shows, with their great riders and amazing horses, that's truly inspiring. I wish I could stand on their sidelines more often.
As I compared this other stables and these other riders with my current riding situation, I had a moment of spiritual insight, in which I realized what it truly is that d
raws me to a barn. It's not the facilities or the horses or the trainers or anything that ever logically occurred to me. All along, I've been thinking that those things were what appealed to me in a riding center, but that's not it at all. What I really want is acceptance. And don't we all? To feel like a part of the family; to be, as I was identified as last night, "a Magnolia girl"; to feel like my presence at that place makes a difference to not only the horses but the people who are there. The physical qualities of a farm are all very important, but it's really the intangible things that matter. And I think that's at least a little bit true for everyone.I also learned that everyone shows off, just a little bit (you should see these riders try to impress the crowd!), but humility can pay off. There was a little bit sad/mostly funny moment last night when I rider in the jump-off had flown around the course impossibly fast and was clean riding up to the last fence. Assuming he would make the last fence (which is generally an easier jump for the horses), the audience began to applaud the fantastic round, and the rider began to show off. He urged his horse into a head-long gallop, beelining it for the last fence and then the finish line, but in his display, he got his horse too flat and they positively tore down the last fence. They were so busy showing off, he couldn't regain enough of his horse to make it over the jump in one piece! Humility pays off, my friends.
I also had the reaffirmation
that, yeah, they may not blink as they gallop up to a six foot fence, but regardless, Grand Prix riders are not the equestrian gods some people make them out to be. As the celebrities of the horse world, "they're people, too." It was strange, watching firsthand as women I had just seen storm the arena with power and passion fuss with their horses as they put them back into their stalls, talking idly about whether to trailer back that night or the next morning, making jokes about their rides and their horses. How they're able to come off the high of rushing over huge fences in order to chat idly with their friends just minutes later, I'll never understand. But somehow they can do it. I guess it's somewhat of a normal ride for them.I love horse shows of any kind, because there's something to be learned just from people watching, never mind actually watching the riders and their trainers. But there's something about watching the grand prix shows, with their great riders and amazing horses, that's truly inspiring. I wish I could stand on their sidelines more often.
Friday, March 12, 2010
With Breeches Comes Strength
All of the good souls stand unafraid.
The hospital was cold, stark. Grace was lost in its maze like a lone bluebird left behind for the winter, dwarfed by the frozen, twisting branches among which it nested.
Even in a hospital, Grace was getting looks. She was shivering violently, uncontrollably. Her skin had lost all its color, and she could trace the bright blue veins beneath her porcelain skin. Her blue eyes sat motionless in their lids, staring unblinkingly at the paths across her shaking arms.
Grace knew she looked the part of a patient. From the blood stains on her breeches to the cuts on her face, she looked as if she belonged in the first-floor emergency room. But as she kept insisting, she was fine. It was useless to wait for the doctors; precious time was slipping by.
She wanted to turn to her mother and ask where Christopher was. Or at least where they had taken his body. He had yet to be revived, and every second the life was draining out of him. She could feel that much.
The hours passed them slowly, dragging their feet. Every so often, a hesitant question would flutter from Cynthia’s lips. Grace attempted to answer each time, but speaking was a trial. Her replies came in one or two syllables.
Once, Cynthia quietly demanded, “What happened out there, Grace? Can you explain to me what he was doing, what you were doing?”
Grace couldn’t answer for Christopher. She could hardly answer for herself—because she wasn’t herself; she didn’t feel like herself.
She felt like a little girl, caught in a lurid, confused dream.
And it was this dream-child who sat that day in the ER, who wandered that evening through the hospital halls.
The hospital was cold, stark. Grace was lost in its maze like a lone bluebird left behind for the winter, dwarfed by the frozen, twisting branches among which it nested.
Even in a hospital, Grace was getting looks. She was shivering violently, uncontrollably. Her skin had lost all its color, and she could trace the bright blue veins beneath her porcelain skin. Her blue eyes sat motionless in their lids, staring unblinkingly at the paths across her shaking arms.
Grace knew she looked the part of a patient. From the blood stains on her breeches to the cuts on her face, she looked as if she belonged in the first-floor emergency room. But as she kept insisting, she was fine. It was useless to wait for the doctors; precious time was slipping by.
She wanted to turn to her mother and ask where Christopher was. Or at least where they had taken his body. He had yet to be revived, and every second the life was draining out of him. She could feel that much.
The hours passed them slowly, dragging their feet. Every so often, a hesitant question would flutter from Cynthia’s lips. Grace attempted to answer each time, but speaking was a trial. Her replies came in one or two syllables.
Once, Cynthia quietly demanded, “What happened out there, Grace? Can you explain to me what he was doing, what you were doing?”
Grace couldn’t answer for Christopher. She could hardly answer for herself—because she wasn’t herself; she didn’t feel like herself.
She felt like a little girl, caught in a lurid, confused dream.
And it was this dream-child who sat that day in the ER, who wandered that evening through the hospital halls.
Excerpt from The Circular Path
_______________
I went to the hospital this afternoon (not for myself, but for my grandmother). It reminded of this scene from The Circular Path, a novel I drafted up last year. This scene, in particular, is part of a larger one titled "Dismissed". Grace is struggling through a world of abuse, both of substance and emotion, and the only person who has offered her hope has just been in a serious cross-country accident.
There's something beautiful about Grace to me; she always finds her way into my head to offer me strength.
I went to the hospital this afternoon (not for myself, but for my grandmother). It reminded of this scene from The Circular Path, a novel I drafted up last year. This scene, in particular, is part of a larger one titled "Dismissed". Grace is struggling through a world of abuse, both of substance and emotion, and the only person who has offered her hope has just been in a serious cross-country accident.
There's something beautiful about Grace to me; she always finds her way into my head to offer me strength.
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