It starts with a little voice from somewhere in the back….”I think I want to start riding again.”
Hmmmm…I wasn’t expecting that. Being curious, I decided to sign up for wherever this inkling was headed.
But, it brings up a lot of shit! Wheel barrels full.
The back story: I’ve always loved horses. I’ve had horses since I was 9. I was invited onto the intercollegiate team + I was honest I’d never had a lesson in my life. I could ride though.
I made a living teaching. “Creating better humans for horses” was my tag line, my belief system, and still is.
I was in a car accident in late 2012 and as a result of my injuries gave up my teaching + riding. And the fear of not being good enough came roaring up to the front. It’d been nagging me for a while. So I just stopped riding the crazy ones. After the accident I stopped riding. Period.
And then the voice…I want to ride again. Ok. Let’s see where we go.
My requirements for a horse are the same now as they were 10 years ago. Brave, ballsy, a game personality, 5-8 years old, and under 15 hands. Cool. I’m consistent.
I’m here, in Vermont, house sitting for my parents. All alone for 4 days… A good friend challenges me to stick to my list (I’ve been hell bent on a super safe 14 year old horse). And find something closer than 13 hours. One way. She’s right.
I google “horse for sale in VT”. Mind you, my horse shopping is purely based on the energy I get surveying a photo, watching a video. I’ve spent hours looking at horses. Probably years by now. The one who piques my interest is a cute little 3 year old Morgan being driven through town. I call, make arrangements to go see him.
I’ve already made lunch plans with my Gram. Spit fire. Ballsy. Brave. Honest. With a real passion for horses. The same mentality as her! I decide Gram will be up for a post-lunch adventure.
She loved it. The owners of the farm loved her. Talked horses, talked farming, appreciated good honest people. Heritage. Me. My Gram. Good ole’ Vermont Morgans.
The 3 year old was everything they described. At first I declined to ride him. I had come to Vermont totally unprepared to horse shop. Then I decided to step out of my old pattern and ride the horse. If I’m serious, just get on.
So I rode. And he was good. He was comfortable. He was ok taking directives from a stranger who hasn’t ridden in more than 2 years. And he was so much more confident outside. Fabulous. That’s what I need.
On the way home Gram says the horses + watching me ride again were better than the Maple Cream frosted cupcake dessert. It’s not just grandmotherly pride or compliments. She was a horse lady. She has a good eye. She’s watched me my entire life and still can’t believe I gave up riding for almost 3 years.
“What did you think of Cash?”
Oh, god. Thinking. Feeling. Ugh.
Mind you, I’m known for being very picky (good +bad) with horses. It’s not personal. Just the facts. So I started there.
Gram’s a smart lady. And savvy. She was a crisis counselor for over 50 years. She can see bullshit from a mile away. “What did you really think?”
I don’t know if I can do it.
Baffled. Dismayed. Confused. “But, you’re a trainer. You’ve ridden hot, damaged horses. He’s calm, agreeable.”
“I don’t think I’m a good enough rider.” There. I said it. Out loud.
Fuck. Saying it out loud to my grandmother was worse than my inside voice saying it to myself.
I spewed “what if’s” until the cows came home. She listened. And had a counter-point for everything.
Wise. True. But,…what if it’s not…….
I am a good rider. I’m a fantastic teacher. I’m an incredible facilitator of energy + understanding between animals + humans. Facts.
My current belief system is keeping me from my life long passion (and a few other things too. Friggin’ insidious).
Belief System reboot: The magic happens when I believe enough to start.
Heritage: I come from a long line of ballsy, brave, empathetic healers. And horse women.
Belief System: I. Am. Enough.
Practice. Mantras. Loving myself. Letting go. Letting it in.
I. Am. Enough.