Uncategorized

When I was 10 years old, living in El Paso, Texas, I used to watch a kid’s program after school on the television… the host rode in on a horse. That made it quite important to get home and get the TV on quickly. One day, the host announced an art contest. Draw or paint a clown (there was a new host joining him who was a clown) and win a special prize.

I didn’t even know what the prize would be, but I had drawn and painted since I was 3 years old. The story was told that I tried to look at ants with a magnifying glass at age 3. The ants were moving too much, so I drew a bunch of ants and looked at them through the glass…

Hopeful for some equine related prize, I painted a clown. And, from thousands of entries, I WON the contest! Still not knowing what I had won, I, along with my family, was a guest at a circus and we were on TV… then, I was awarded my prize. It was a purple unicycle. A purple unicycle.………

I spent a few weeks trying to ride it. I decided I hated purple (which included all the bruises) and sold the unicycle to a neighbor boy. The twenty dollars I got for it paid for 2 riding lessons at Upper Valley Stable where I spent every weekend anyway. I learned to love purple again after a couple of decades. It was actually a cool lesson for me, looking back on how it all felt. I had the elation of winning with something created by my own young hands. I had the sharp sting of reality with a gift I could not enjoy but found a way to turn it into something I did want. And, now seeing how my life unfolds, I was being prepared for the sublime strangeness that is my world.

I wouldn’t have it any other way. Never a dull moment could be my mantra and surprises wait around every turn. When life hands you a unicycle, turn it into riding lessons.

I don’t think of Halloween as scary, but it is always weird for me. Years ago I had ordered a water bed – a big plastic bag of rolling waves to sleep on because that is what my hips and shoulders craved. A couple of weeks went by and the store finally called me on the 31st (of October) to say that they would be delivering it. I let my neighbor have my futon and cleared my bedroom for the arrival of comfort.

At 9:00 PM an unmarked van with three middle eastern men arrived with my bed. I lived by myself with one small dog. I took a deep breath and let them in with the bed parts, making sure that I saw the bed first! They were apologetic about the hour and then even more so when we discovered that the frame boards were too long! Okay… I took the boards to the garage after marking the lengths and sawed them shorter myself.

The young men were friendly and got the heat mat down then the water “mattress” and I brought the hose in to fill it. They kept everything smooth as the mattress wiggled and expanded like some living thing. Over an hour had passed. I made hot Chai tea and shared it. Laughed with them as I realized I would be sleeping on ice cold water because the heater couldn’t warm it enough until 24 hours had passed.

After they left, I put comforters and blankets under me, a bedspread over me and tried to fall asleep. It was a hopeless, chilled, 6 hours of being tossed side to side in nausea inducing effort to find a warmed spot. The next night was brilliant and made it all worthwhile – but the first night had me wondering if I had lost all of my marbles.

The next year, also on Halloween, I had a man come to install cable TV at that house. He looked things over and proclaimed that he was not allowed to go underneath the house to take the cable across the width of it. Crikey, I told him I would do it and he left the cable line and the connectors with me then drove away! That afternoon, after drilling holes through the floor, I crawled under the house, bringing my little dog with me (I thought of it like the Doctor with K9) so I wouldn’t panic as I pulled my body along with my elbows dragging the cable line. I pushed it up through the floor then, inside, cut it to length and attached the connectors (I grew up with ham radio and am a technician).

The next week the man came and connected the line to the pole. When I got my first bill with a charge for “installation”, an assertive phone call got that charge removed promptly!

A few years back I was staying with my mother in the hospital, waiting for her to be discharged after several days. At 9:00 PM on Halloween… the paperwork came through. I do not understand it, but, I am no longer surprised by much, especially in October!

This was a day of shifting perspectives at Dharmahorse! I had gone to bed last night fighting this injured neck with 1,000 mgs of aspirin followed by Indian food, later cayenne capsules with a cup (couldn’t find wine glasses…) of wine and at the end, 2 Benedryls to assure sleep! I had run the gamut with herbs and homeopathics and still was waking up to the kind of pain that made me scream out! My awesome students and families helped with everything today including the lessons and we made it through a long day!

I met the step father of a student who said, “how incredible that you can wake up to this beautiful mountain and beautiful horses every morning!”… it made me think. A lot! About the hard road to get to this little sanctuary… about the peeps who surround me and the love we all share. I felt beyond grateful today.

Some of my pain lately is from actual injury, some, I know, is emotional. Getting my Mum through her situation and into a healing space was stressful! So worth all the effort, but difficult none the less. I’m deeply in love with a person I have not heard from in over 2 weeks. I know he is facing his own situations and all I can do is hold the form for our relationship in my heart and believe in us until I do hear from him. I just hope he is okay, that he has peace. It is the first time in my life that I have felt such fascination with someone.

So, I had supper with a friend at a cafe’, had a long visit tonight with my brother and told him about the day. One student had her mare fall, nose dive, into the soft footing when the wretched goathead plants tripped her! Student did a proper sort of flip onto her buttocks, landing in a mass of dry stickers. The mare was fine, too, with dirt pushed up her nostrils and scuffed, but unharmed knees. Another student had her own foot trod upon, but not harmed, by our gelding, Majic. I tried some naproxen sodium for my pain and it made me a bit spacey but actually helped. This neck has brought me to point of using allopathy! After the acupuncture two days ago, I was feeling better so ended up lifting 2 railroad ties back onto the arena drag, unloaded several 100 pound bales of hay and carried a wooden pallet… oops.

The horses had a really fine day today with turn outs, grooming, riding, therapy and lots of loving. As I prepare for bed tonight, I think about how this herd touches so many lives. People from devastating situations find comfort with these horses. People looking for creative expression or excitement or even physical therapy find it here. I’m so proud to be the captain of this ship.

And a parent who works with youth at risk (as I did in EAP years back) spoke of being “in charge” rather than “in control” and I just really like that! To control seems to require force in one form or another; in charge implies being respected and looked up to. I do like that! The one seems ego based and the other denotes responsibility.

So, I don’t want to control anyone’s life. I like being in charge of my stable yard – the steward of good health and goodwill for these animals and the people who interact with us here. If I can find relaxation for myself once again and build back strength rather than just power through situations, I think life will flow smoothly again. We can all benefit from a moment to breathe and to find perspective. I will take some Vitamin C tonight. I need hay so I will get smaller bales on Monday to avoid stressing physically. I will meditate and visualize those I love in healthy, calm and noble spaces. It’s the best I can do right now.

It is difficult to describe properly, that sense of connection that is often instant and deeply personal. We aim to find it with our horses in the stable and under saddle. We hold that hope in our hearts to find it with another human. It is relatively easy to enter into with our dogs!

I thought a lot about rapport today as a sweet, elderly dog stayed in the room with me while I lay on the table, covered in acupuncture needles. His gentle presence was a part of the healing experience as well as the needles, the bio mat beneath me and the electromagnetic pulses… he was the mentor sitting with me for a couple of hours as my neck released the pain it has carried.

It is always a profound honor to find yourself trusted by an animal. Even more so than by another human because the animals are not swayed by our words or actions; they see our hearts clearly.

That space we can find with a horse where he feels or reads our thoughts and is responding to them effortlessly cannot be forced. To hug a horse is beyond satisfying, to be hugged by a horse is intoxicating. There are systems that distance the human from the horse – he must “respect our space”, respect our boundaries… and some of them aggressively create a pocket of charged disapproval of any attempt at connection. Horses are smart. They figure us out. I would rather have my horse feel comfortable near me and back off if I tell him to do so rather than fear repercussions of a misstep.

I think that we need to also know that sometimes, a horse may not resonate with us personally. I have known students with horses whose personalities were mismatched but who found perfect new partners for their equines and themselves. There is nothing wrong with that. We don’t all fall in love with the same person, drive the same car, eat the same cupcakes – we can take our time finding an equine partner that fits us as we fit him or her. It is about the relationship, not about the breed, color, length of tail or size of the head.

When you feel that spark of recognition, of rapport and delight with another being, open yourself up to it and explore what possibilities exist for the pairing. I am able to adore all of my horses, but I have a deeply personal, uncanny knowing and sweet rapport with one especially and I won’t say who it is.

It is amazing that we can love so clearly when we step away from the constraints others attempt to place upon us. Even in competition, don’t let your wise knowledge of your own horse become muddied by the opinions of others. It is so much fun to love and be loved! And that has to be based upon the very personal rapport.

So, I warned ya – I’m writing because the weather has put me indoors. My Mother and Brother are not here much and I’m not in contact with my peeps much right now. It has been a very odd time for me. I will be glad to get into October – it feels like it holds possibilities for me. And the first weekend will be the southern new mexico state fair. I like to go to it when I can to see the goats and sheep and chickens (chooks!) and to ride something scary at the carnival. You see, I am afraid of heights. Really afraid.

And, in a similar effort to face this, years ago, I climbed the Vacuum Tower Telescope at Sunspot, New Mexico – just a few hours drive from my home here.

I went for Halloween to Sunspot with a group of friends. We were close to the woman who ran the facility back then and we stayed at her home there. They had a party that night with the astronomers and scientists. I dressed as a biker chick (easy costume for me) and danced all night with an astronomer from the Netherlands dressed as a punk rocker (and I don’t think it was a stretch for him, either). We had so much fun. In the morning, our friend took us past the barriers into the works of the giant solar telescope. Towering 350 feet from the ground and another 100 feet into the earth, it watches the sun and a video was always going in the lobby.

We started up the catwalk style steps with one rail that spiraled up the inside edge of the tower walls (which leaned inward slightly!). I nearly fainted as I looked up. But, I was NOT going to opt out of the experience. A friend helped me get started by holding her hand on the wall, “look at my hand, just follow my hand,” she got me started as I hyperventilated.

I did it. We got to the top that opened out onto a platform, then we looked down (mistake for Katharine). We could see straight down to the bottom below the ground level. Crikey. I froze for a bit.

But, my good friend put her hand on the wall, “look at my hand, follow my hand”, we started down and she got me going. Now, when I have to go up (and worse, down) a ladder or stand on a precipice, I say my mantra (out loud), “I climbed the vacuum tower telescope” over and over…

At the ground level, we were allowed to look through the (heavily filtered!) eyepiece… EYEPIECE – I found that just as frightening and chose my least strong eye and wore my sunglasses… but I did it (I wouldn’t now).

So, at the fair weekend after this, I will climb onto some strange ride and recite to myself that I climbed the telescope and find a piece of courage to make me feel good for awhile.

…if you sit this one out. I have been writing a lot lately because of the rains! Saturday we were able to do lessons and yesterday (Monday!) some area peeps received OVER 6 inches of rain! I am actually excited about what this means for our mountain, our water table, our river and this beautiful desert. I am also feeling slightly frantic with the inability to tackle the weeds (it is too wet right now, they just bend). My Mum is in a great facility and getting stronger every day. My brother is with her before and after work and I only see him in the late evenings. Quite a sudden change from having the whole family living in my house for 7 weeks and all the regular lessons moved to the weekends so I could be constantly with my Mother!

And with the saturation level here, I have to keep postponing lessons. This sort of situation will put you in either a meditative, get things done mood or a cabin fevered, where is that emergency cigarette frame of mind. I am choosing the former…. for now 😉

I quit smoking decades ago, but in high stress moments, the thought still crosses my mind. I started smoking because of my College. Seriously. I went to college at age 15, did not do high school. It was a Baptist Junior College (I have always been a Buddhist) in southern Virginia. I was pre-Veterinary, going to go to VPI in Blacksburg… I would have been a young Veterinarian! But I ended up in Florida later riding colts off the track for a H/J barn…

Anyway, at that college, the “Men are allowed to use tobacco on campus; the girls are forbidden to use tobacco on campus” that was exactly the wording. It was 1970/71 and, being me, I immediately started smoking. Crikey. It took several attempts in later life to quit, but I did and on the monthly anniversary of quitting, I always bought myself a crystal or cool stone with the money I would have spent on cigarettes. I have some awesome stones.

And really, I will never smoke again… I eat apples when I feel edgy and still do Rescue Remedy (which helped me quit way back). But the memory of smoking is ready to pop up anytime. And old songs I love(d) hit me with “the yellow-fingered smokey girl is looking up at me”, “smoked your 27th cigarette”, on and on.

And realistically, it was a coping “skill” for me during a difficult youth. A better choice than the 24 hour vodka stupor my father chose! So, today I write while clouds build again on the mountain – Arrgghhhh! I start reorganizing the house (I have high hopes that someday the person I love will come be with me, or I will travel to him) and reorganizing my thoughts. I’m able to turn horses out in calm pairings – hoping that no one goes galloping around too fast and furious! It is slick out there.

The dogs sleep on the sofa – it is what they do best. I have some organic peppers to roast in the oven; some skin balm I need to make; fly repellent to make; students to call to postpone lessons and a house to clean! I’ll start supper (tea) in the crock pot… something to go with the sweet red wine a friend gave me.

And, if it just keeps raining, I’ll just keep writing. You have been warned 😉

Amazing how emotions can fluctuate – the flooding has ended and we are all (horses, dogs and humans) looking through new eyes. As the sun lifts up from behind the mountain, the plants practically sparkle and our normal routine at Dharmahorse clicks back into place.

I think it is the routine of things that comforts us all. And the adventures inspire us 🙂

A lifetime of it really. Horse peeps learn to “make do”. We buy clothes at Thrift Stores to have money for hay. We consider lunch at a Cafe’ a real luxury when we’re saving up for entry fees for a horse show…

Our petrol is expensive because we need trucks to maintain a stable, so we plan all of our errands in a sequential trip that circles back home in the most efficient manner. I have envelopes where I put bits of extra cash (one for emergencies, one for socks and underwear that I do not buy at Thrift Shops, one for printer ink cartridges, and now one for international long distance calling). Cafe’ or movie money comes from putting the change bucket stash through the counter at my Credit Union. And sometimes, that change becomes groceries or dog food.

I realized today, as I prepare to hook up my horse trailer to get hay (it has been pouring rain for days and nights here) that being a horsewoman (and stablewoman) has taught me the skills to adjust, adapt, solve and face everything that comes my way. I see all my horsewoman friends being warriors in life, too. We all figure out how to cope during the rough times and we all REALLY know how to enjoy the smooth times!

Being in my late 50’s, I don’t necessarily have that idea light bulb flash on right away… I was thinking about how much I miss my old horse van that served me since I was 16 and could drive it, until 20 years ago when I (foolishly) traded it for an old Mercedes… I got hay and stored hay in it during these times. Then, I realized (the next day) that I can just take my horse trailer and do the same thing (albeit, on a smaller scale!). So, in an hour, I’ll be at the feedstore, using emergency funds to pack as much hay as I can into that trailer.

But, I live in the country. I have seven beautiful horses who are my family. I can make my own hours, I don’t need a gym, I have time to write and to paint… my life is FULL of love. I am so dang wealthy!

And, seeing that car again, I have to mention – it saved my life. I was rear-ended in that car by a guy going 75 mph as I stopped to make a left hand turn. My other vehicle was a motorcycle. Thank you Mercedes.

We never know what the circumstances in life are planning.

Flash flood warnings are in effect here. I spent this soggy morning taking my Mother’s walker, clothes, toiletries and such to her in the rehab/skilled nursing facility… it is the sort of dreary day that I normally adore since it becomes a change from the incessant sunshine. I kept thinking that “the sky is crying” as I dodged wells of water at street corners and played very loud music in the truck to keep me awake. It has been a rough 7 weeks… heck, a rough 3 years to be honest. All of it worthwhile for the well being of such a gentle spirit.

I found myself in route to Funky Karma. It is an incense and tea shop toward Mesilla where I once went in my most desperate and demoralized state of being years back. A reading there brought hope and comfort for me when I saw no possibility for either. After that day, I got my rear in gear, found my little farm here and organized a decent life. It was a movement from despair to delight in a matter of months and I never looked back.

Today, I drove almost by auto pilot and parked in front of the shop. Rain spattering the truck roof sounded like tap dancing and I waited for cars to pass to avoid a drenching, then slipped inside to see the knowing face of a friend. I seem to only visit this shop when I’m feeling disconnected from my own spirit. I am certain my aura betrays my state of being the moment I cross that threshold. In minutes, I was able to relax in safety and have a loving reading that put things in perspective. Yes, I would still be facing hard decisions. Yes, I would need to look beyond setbacks for the blessings often overlooked. No, I would not lose friends nor clients nor suffer more hardship with the business, but I would need to look at other ways to set up the business since its present condition remains stagnant. And most clearly I got it that I must, indeed take better care of myself. period. no guilt, no falling back on being “all things to all people”, no more pushing to exhaustion. period.

So, I started home with sticks of sandalwood, the radio blasting instead of Pink Floyd CD’s and The Police started up with “I’ll be watching you…” and the deja vu hit hard. Going north on Holman Road in a downpour is not unique, but somehow a particular day from my past hit me in the face. My soulmate dog, Namaste’ and I were heading out north in a flash flood to get TCW food from the cooperative when we came across a literal river rushing over the road. “Hey, Boo, we’d better turn ’round”, I told him as I stopped and backed the car up to some gravel. “Too risky to cross that, we’ll go home my love”.

Suddenly, today, I wept, couldn’t stop the tears, sobbed and gasped and pulled over to collect myself. Namaste’ was my reason for living for a very long time. His passing broke my soul.

I had taught a paraplegic woman years ago who rode a wonderful young gaited horse. Her soulmate dog was a large, elderly guy who had actually saved her life once when her wheelchair careened into an irrigation ditch. When her dog passed over, we spoke intimately about how she wished she could join him – her feelings of loss were so great. When Namate’ passed, I thought I would not survive without him. As I felt the eery sense of the past time with him in the rain on the road today, I realized that I had survived and I had been happy in the times that came, even though I had thought I would never smile again.

And the picture of my Mother in her wheelchair that flooded my mind softened… it certainly seems to her that she won’t be filled with joy again… that her body is worn out, her spirit tired. But, whatever her future holds, I know there is the possibility for her to have happy times. I know that I have done the best I can to help her. I know that I will see losses all through the rest of my life. And the lesson I’m learning is that we just keep ourselves going. We just look forward and look for love.

Music really affects me. I suspect that Sting song must have played when I was driving with Namaste’ years back. All my life I have found solace and inspiration and insight in music. A child of the ’60’s, my music is timeless, even though it can be strange and off putting to hear Led Zepplin played for a Cadillac ad… the words of songs that come to me while driving can have impact just as does the reading at Funky Karma that helps me integrate my feelings.

So, play more music! Dance in the pouring rain. Remember loved ones with sweetness rather than sorrow. I hear my spirit speak again and the ache in my neck lightens a bit. I have no idea where on the planet I may end up… I have no clue what I am supposed to do right now beyond rest! The habitual hyper-vigilence does not leave of its own will, I have to subdue it myself. What I want to tell everyone is this: draw power from what you love! Don’t tell yourself your dreams can wait (those who abandon their dreams will discourage yours). If you fall in love, you should want that person, not need them. You have to be your own strength. You have to prioritize your needs so you can be fully present for someone else.

Then, spend 10 minutes laughing. Love is drawn to laughter.

My Mother wrapped her big, bare arms around me and dragged me down the hall to the kitchen as blood poured, warm and sticky from my left arm. I was thirteen years old and my life had changed in an instant. I had fallen through a window and severed everything important at my wrist.

Mamma handed me a small towel. “Wrap it up”, she commanded as she fought her demons of fear and unconsciousness she knew would mean my death. I looked at my arm as I wrapped it, so deeply in shock I wasn’t even aware that I was seeing bones and mangled arteries. Instinctively, I held pressure by squeezing the wrist now wrapped in a dish towel.

That was 40+ years ago. I sit tonight by the window, a hot cup of tea in my right hand. The steam from it makes fog on the glass that gathers and runs down the pane just like the rain outside. We haven’t had any rain for so many months that the high desert was scorched and just ready to ignite. This water is welcomed. This night quenches the red earth, the now green trees and the itchy backs of my horses. They stand outside their shelters to celebrate. The Chaparral breathes the scent of the rain onto the wind. I squiggle my fingers on the glass, remembering, for some unknown reason, the day I fell through that window.

I got my first horse because of it. The accident, that is. After it was pretty certain that I was going to live. After transfusions, vomiting and aspirating during surgery (I had died and was revived) and seeing my tiny, pale, numb fingers sticking out from a cast – my Mother convinced my Father to buy me a horse. They had provided riding lessons all my short life. They had leased horses for me during summers. They had never promised me a horse of my own. So, it seemed that they were hoping this new promise of my own great beastie when I had healed would be the motivation to live and to heal. It was.

We had been living at my Grandfather Hodel’s estate in West Virginia. It was his home’s entry that had a large glass door with a huge glass panel on each side. “Don’t run toward the glass!” my Mother had always said… I ran around the lawns; galloping as if I were a horse, jumping bushes and the concrete edging of the driveway and the swimming pool. And I would jump (like a horse) onto the slate front landing, over the steps and “trot” to the front door; except for that one day.

My thoughts and my dreams were filled with horses. While most young girls found ponies adorable, I was drawn to wild Mustangs, dancing Lippizaners and giant Draft horses. I had a herd of at least 200 plastic horses. I ordered free samples of hoof dressing and fly repellent that I used on my tiny herd members, much to my Mother’s dismay as the oily substances rubbed off on the sofa (a desert mesa) or carpets (pastures). My personal “scent” was “ode de Equus”, it still is.

So, tonight I watch the last glow of sunset die and the dark wetness hug the land. I have fed the horses their fluffed up hay and bran mashes. I treat myself to the tea and some store bought  cookies.  My brother and I are taking care of our Mother. This must be the catalyst for so many memories these days. My Mother had congestive heart failure. She is doing well. It became my turn to help save her life. It became time for me to really understand how she must have felt when I fell through that glass.

I was healing pretty well back then. I remember sitting in the hospital and becoming terrified when my injured fingers started moving on their own. The nurses assured me this was a good thing. It meant that the tendons that had been reattached were trying to work. They also told me that the surgeons had had to retrieve those tendons from way up past by my elbow. This, I did not need to know. At night the hand would “burn”, a strange pain and cramping overtook it. I had no feeling actually in the hand or fingers, but pain was real and deep within them. It is hard to explain. But, the idea of riding again; of riding my own horse was all the motivation I needed to decide to heal and just make that hand work again!

My first horse was a Morgan gelding –  a breed known for its unusual strength and small size. His name was “Mink” and he had come from the Travelers (Gypsies) in Princeton who could heal horses with plants and magic. I had spent the summer after the cast was removed from my arm in the pool doing “therapy” that I hoped would strengthen the shriveled, pale thing that used to be my left hand. As the use of the hand improved, I started riding again. Mink realized I had little strength and almost no feeling in that hand, so he would run away with me, always on a big circle to the right. I would stay on. He didn’t buck or try to throw me. He just ran when he wanted to and I couldn’t shut him down. But, he was my very own horse! I adored him. I persevered.