Laura of Cal.
--- In haflingerfriends@yahoogroups.com, "ohiospacecowgirl" <mward98@...> wrote:
>
> This is a wonderful email I received, it's wonderful.
>
> A page from an 87 yr old horsewoman's journal
>
>
> I Ride
>
> I ride. That seems like such a simple statement. However as many women
> who ride know it is really a complicated matter. It has to do with power
> and
> empowerment. Being able to do things you might have once considered
> out of reach or ability. I have considered this as I shovel manure, fill
> water
> barrels in the cold rain, wait for the vet/farrier/electrician/hay
> delivery, change
> a tire on a horse trailer by the side of the freeway, or cool a gelding out
> before getting down to the business of drinking a cold beer after a long
> ride.
>
> The time, the money, the effort it takes to ride calls for dedication. At
> least I
> call it dedication. Both my ex-husbands call it 'the sickness'. It's a
> sickness
> I've had since I was a small girl bouncing my model horses and dreaming of
> the day I would ride a real horse. Most of the women I ride with understand
> the meaning of 'the sickness'. It's not a sport. It's not a hobby. It's
> what we
> do and, in some ways, who we are as women and human beings.
>
> I ride. I hook up my trailer and load my gelding. I haul to some trailhead
> somewhere, unload, saddle, whistle up my dog and I ride. I breathe in the
> air,
> watch the sunlight filter through the trees and savor the movement of my
> horse.
> My shoulders relax. A smile rides my sunscreen smeared face. I pull my ball
> cap down and let the real world fade into the tracks my horse leaves in the
> dust.
>
> Time slows. Flying insects buzz loudly, looking like fairies. My gelding
> flicks
> his ears and moves down the trail. I can smell his sweat and it is perfume
> to
> my senses. Time slows. The rhythm of the walk and the movement of the
> leaves become my focus. My saddle creaks and the leather rein in my hand
> softens with the warmth.
>
> I consider the simple statement; I ride. I think of all I do because I
> ride.
> Climb granite slabs, wade into a freezing lake, race a friend through the
> Manzanita all the while laughing and feeling my heart in my chest. Other
> days just the act of mounting and dismounting can be a real accomplishment.
> Still I ride, no matter how tired or how much my seat bones or any of the
> numerous horse related injuries hurt. I ride. And I feel better for doing
> so.
>
> The beauty I've seen because I ride amazes me. I've ridden out to find
> lakes
> that remain for the most part, unseen. Caves, dark and cold beside rivers
> full and rolling are the scenes I see in my dreams. The Granite Stairway
> at
> Echo Summit, bald eagles on the wing and bobcats on the prowl add to the
> empowerment and joy in my heart.
>
> I think of the people, mostly women, I've met. I consider how competent
> they all are. Not a weenie amongst the bunch.. We haul 40ft rigs, we back
> into tight spaces without clipping a tree. We set up camp. Tend the horses.
> We cook and keep safe. We understand and love our companions, the
> horse. We respect each other and those we encounter on the trail. We
> know that if you are out there riding, you also shovel, fill, wait and
> doctor.
> Your hands are a little rough and you travel with out makeup or hair gel.
> You do without to afford the 'sickness' and probably, when you were a
> small girl, you bounced a model horse while you dreamed of riding a real
> one.
>
> "My treasures do not chink or glitter, They gleam in the sun and neigh in
> the night".
>
------------------------------------
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