Let's all Say, "Olé!"

I have a pretty incredible job.  I get to travel all around a thirteen county area meeting neat folks and getting unique perspectives on a wide variety of events.  It’s humbling, fascinating and inspiring on an almost weekly basis.  Last week was a fine example.

I traveled to a school located in a town of 465.  They have less than a person per acre in town, but they host a big festival each fall.  This year, thanks to a grant, they were able to bring world renowned, Flamenco Guitarist, Ronald Radford to their school for a student presentation. 

Normally I get to the event well before it begins and have to leave about the time things get underway, but this time, I got to stay.  In fact, I had no option.  I was set-up in the gym where the assembly was taking place and to leave would have been downright rude. 

I should mention that on this particularly day, I was struggling.  It was an early morning appointment, requiring me to get to work a bit early.  The equipment hadn’t been put away properly.  The company car was left on empty.  The phone was being extremely combative.  The list just kept growing and here I was stuck in a school assembly.  I’m really glad I was.  It was time for a Fresh Perspective.

Ronald Radford grew up in Oklahoma.  He went through several instruments before settling on the six string guitar.  With each instrument, the more he practiced, the better he got.  Finally he came to the revelation that, “You get good at what you practice.”  Ground breaking, I know.

He pursued his passion to New York and then across the ocean to Spain.  He spent time amongst the gypsies and learned their folk music.  While he was at it, he also learned their philosophy on life.  For them, life’s main goal is to find out what you are good at and then find a way to make a living doing it.  What a lovely outlook.  I never knew I had a gypsy soul.

The more Mr. Radford spoke and the more he played, the more I was drawn into his story.  Then he taught the students about “Olé,” the Spanish cheering word.  Olé doesn’t have much of a definition, so he came up with an acronym.  Olé: Optimistic Leadership Energy!  Each word describes the Spanish Gypsy culture.  They are very positive thinking.  They don’t wait for others to step-in.  If they see a way they can help, they get to it.  Finally, they are just bursting with life.  Now I have two reasons for visiting Andalusia.  The first, of course, being the horses.

I don’t know how much of the presentation the students took to heart.  The young ones certainly enjoyed clapping along with the music.  I found it to be refreshing and a great reminder.  First, practice what you want to get good at, whether it’s riding your horse or being an optimistic energetic leader in your field.  Then, find something you are good at and enjoy doing, and make it your life’s work and passion.  If you are pursuing your passion daily, it’s a lot easier to find that energy and optimism each and every day.

The best part is, it doesn’t matter who you are, how old you are, or what you are doing, if you can adopt the Olé attitude you are going to be better off.  Taking out the trash?  Do it well and do it happily.  That piddily job at work no one wants to do?  Take the initiative, show leadership.  That canter depart that eludes you?  Practice, practice, practice.  The next time I face a day where my energy is lacking or my enthusiasm is waning, I’m going to find that Gypsy Fresh Perspective.  Olé! Olé!  Olé!

Learning to Learn

“If we let ourselves, we shall always be waiting for some distraction or other to end before we can really get down to our work.  The only people who achieve much are those who want knowledge so badly that they seek it while the conditions are still unfavorable.  Favorable conditions never come.”

-          C.S.Lewis

We weren’t “ready” for Kentucky.  Our dressage was sketchy.  Our fitness was lacking.  We missed a week and a half of preparation due to a lost shoe, but we went anyway.  We survived and we came out better for the experience.

We had a worry free trip to Kentucky. I was very lucky that my mom could drop everything and make the trip with me.  Tackling an eight and a half hour drive by myself is not on my bucket list.  Although she has always said she does not enjoy watching me gallop down to solid fences that are above my belly button, she agreed to keep me company and keep me safe.

Our dressage was not as horrid as it could have been.  Nutmeg is still protesting when I ask her to carry herself in the canter, but we made our fifteen meter circles without leaping about or jumping out of the arena.  I was the first horse in the ring, which probably helped our score a bit, but it got me in a bit of a tizzy and I lost my bungee arms.  Our relaxation and suppleness suffered.  We’ll do better next time.  I’m still learning to find my center before heading down center line.

I am bursting with pride over Nutmeg’s cross country trip.  We had a lot of time penalties.  Almost a refusals worth, but I knew we weren’t fit and it was terribly hot.  I just didn’t have the horse to make time.  The way she jumped though still has me grinning.  She is learning!  We had one looong distance at the second fence, a very rampy pheasant feeder.  Other than that, she really jumped well.  I was a tad worried about a drop to a small half coop, since we are still landing in a bit of a heap.  She hopped down and on a loose rein cantered out over the coop like a pro.  The next fence was a galloping steeplechase brush fence.  She pinned it with her ears, picked up the pace and galloped over it beautifully.  The corner was a no brainer.  For the log before the water that everyone had been tripping over, she came back to me happily and bounded over it in great form.  The Jolly Green Giant that I made the mistake of walking right up to on the course walk (it was up to the bottom of my bra and wider than I can spread my arms, somehow it was legally a training fence) jumped great.  I knew it would if I didn’t pick at her, but dang it was big!  Next thing was the question that had me most concerned.  Just like at Catalpa, it was a two stride half coffin, except this time the ditch was big enough I didn’t think we could snake across it safely if things went poorly.  Well, Miss Nutmeg is learning to learn.  She practically backed herself up coming to the rails, popped over them smoothly, two nice strides and over the ditch.  No big deal.  Except it was.  She’s learning and that is so exciting! 
The only other real question for us was the trakehner.  In its defense, it’s probably the friendliest trakehner I’ve ever seen.  I knew if I could just slowly my fear, Nutmeg wouldn’t even know there was a ditch underneath the log.  I felt a little silly, but I found a tree I could stare it during my course walk.  I turned the corner, lifted my eyes to the tree tops, put my leg on and prayed.  She didn’t bat an eye.  I only need to jump that jump about fifty more times before I’ll learn to trust the big red head.

After that it was all downhill, but I still had to nurse her home.  Pulling up after the finish line I realized just how truly hot she was.  Shame on my for not having her fitter, but I’m not sure what more I could have done.  I spent a long time cooling her down thoroughly.  I’ve never had a horse that wasn’t naturally fit or hadn’t been super fit and one point in its past.  Lesson learned.  With Nutmeg, I’m going to have to do some honest to goodness conditioning.  Bring on the hills!

I pampered Nuthead the best I could between Saturday afternoon and show jumping Sunday.  We did lots of grazing and lots of chilling back at the stall.  I knew when I got on Sunday that I had a very tired horse.  But she was loose and sound and I felt we could jump safely.  She has come so far.  In the past when she got tired, she became stiff and belligerent.  Although we didn’t have a beautiful round, she stayed compliant.  I did not ride consistently.  The two rails were my fault.  I dropped my contact at the base of the fence.  I spent quite some time studying the video from show jumping.  Unfortunately, my rails were on the far side of the arena, but watching the video frame by frame was quite interesting.  Certainly a good learning tool.

The most disturbing part of the weekend occurred while watching stadium.  A young girl came up to her (presumably) grandma and was quite upset.  Apparently she thought she was too fast on cross country so she circled several times.  She ended up with time faults that knocked her from second to fourteenth.  Her mom thought she should scratch and not even ride stadium because there would be no point.  How awful!  I can’t imagine saying that to anyone, let alone my child.  It goes against everything this sport, everything life is about.  We’re here to learn.  Sometimes we learn by winning.  Sometimes we learn by making costly mistakes.  Usually we learn better from the mistakes that cost us the most.  The whole thing really appalled me.  Thankfully her grandmother was very supportive.  I truly hope that she was able to learn from the experience, not just about timing, but about continuing on when outside influences try to impact your attitude.  I have no idea how her weekend ended, but in my head, she put in a fabulous round and jumped back into the ribbons.

We didn’t.  I have no idea how we placed, but with twenty-four in our class, I’m quite certain it was well out of the ribbons.  But it doesn’t matter.  We still had a really great weekend.  It wasn’t flashy.  It wasn’t a weekend you could brag to your co-workers about.  But we learned so much and we learned it without paying painful prices.  I was worried about the weekend.  I knew we were untested in some areas.  I knew we weren’t ready to go out and win, but sometimes you have to go anyway.  Now we’ve learned what to work on.

“Tell me and I forget, teach me and I may remember, involve me and I learn.” – Benjamin Franklin

It’s a Fresh Perspective on riding and a hard one to adopt when the price is so high, but if you can give your horse the freedom to learn with you, you’ll come out the other side in a much better position.  It’s the “5^th leg” training folks are always talking about.  Force your horse and you will always have to force him.  Teach your horse and most of the time, he’ll do what’s taught.  Discover with your horse, make mistakes, learn from them together, and he’ll save your butt when you need him too. 

Two more things I learned over the weekend: I am not above forgetting the memory card for my helmet cam  :(  and I learned to properly operate my Cross Country App, which measures the course, figures my minute markers and take pictures!  Enjoy the results below.

 

 

 

 

Doesn't look it, but this one was Big.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Jolly Green Giant.  True to its name.

 

 

 

I promise there is a ditch under that log.

 

 

 

 

 

Final fence.  Oddly enough, I heard the loud speaker say I was finished about seven strides out.
Good motivation to make sure you actually make it over the final fence.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I Can See Clearly Now...with my glasses on.

It’s time to face the music.  I’m getting glasses for my birthday.

About two years ago I started wearing contacts on occasion.  Those occasions included driving somewhere new with the truck and trailer and when jumping.  It was jumping that convinced me to have my eyes checked in the first place.  I just couldn’t find the correct distance to the jumps.  Turns out if you see better, you jump better.  Anyway, I found contacts to be terribly annoying and very convenient all in one.  Being able to see across the field was awesome, but after about four days, my contacts got fuzzy and I could generally see better without them.  Plus I have a rotten time getting them in my eyes and I can’t read my computer screen with them.  Bother, bother, bother.  Besides, I didn’t really need them…then.

Well, now apparently I do.  The optometrist said, “No more driving without correction.”  Humbug and bug-a-boo.  My face does not handle glasses well!  My eyes don’t like the contacts.  Whatever shall I do?

Well, after running the poor ladies around the store countless times we found a pair of sunglasses that are more like goggles and a pair of completely customizable glasses.  I’m exasperated, but I’ll have to learn to live with them.  We’re also trying the daily disposable contacts.  My horse must be rubbing off one me; I’m becoming high maintenance!

Any who…During my surprise shopping trip, I was bombarded with slogans. 

                “Clearly the Best.”      “Your world.  See the brilliance.”      

                “See Better.  Look Perfect.”      “Physics elevated to an art form.”

Well, that catch phrase from Oakley got me thinking about dressage.  It is physics elevated to an art form or it can be.  Lately our dressage has been all physics.  Mainly Newton’s Second Law of Motion: for an unbalanced force (Nutmeg) acting on a body (me), the acceleration produced is proportional to the force impressed….  You get the idea.  But it should be an art form.  I’ve seen it be an art form, but try as I might, I couldn’t visualize our dressage being any more than physics.  Time for glasses.

It happened by accident.  I just thought, “Hum, she feels good, let’s canter.”  And we did and it was great.  I didn’t prepare.  I didn’t half-halt.  I didn’t lean back or shift my weight.  I just asked.  In other words, I didn’t mess it all up!  I quit while I was ahead.  I fully expected it to be a fluke, but on my next ride I visualized doing nothing. That’s a very hard thing to visualize by the way.  My reward for doing nothing was one round of the softest, dreamiest canter I’ve ever experienced.  That was ART!

So now I know we can do it.  I don’t expect to replicate the victory every time I ride, but I sure am going to try.  I still anticipate a pretty poor score at the event in Kentucky this weekend, but now at least I can visualize a really nice test and sometimes seeing is believing and believing leads to doing.

Ellen J. Langer wrote, “In the perspective of every person lies a lens through which we may better understand ourselves.”  That is my favorite part of riding under other people.  They bring their perspective and help me tune my lens.  Lately I’ve been told I’m doing too much just because I can, not because I need to.  I think it’s finally soaked in and given me a Fresh Perspective.  Instead of getting bogged down in the how’s and why’s and whens, instead of getting engrossed in the physics, sometimes I just need to focus on the art.

Flutterings

We’re T minus 12 days until we make our trek to Kentucky and once again tackle a Training level course.  I had a laundry list of things I wanted to accomplish with Nutmeg between now and then, but… 

Nutmeg lost a shoe last week.  The only thing I’m accomplishing is laundry and its giving me butterflies.

Life’s funny that way.  It lures you into a false sense of ease.  Things go along just how they are supposed to, and then a random stranger puts it in reverse and smashes into your front bumper.  Hoping to avoid digressing into a pity party, I’m turning to Daniel Stewart, Sports Psychology Buff, for some tips on how top riders or any of us normal people can overcome the challenges everyday life throws our way.

Tip #1: Abundance vs. Scarcity Mindset

Or as I think of it, Look for the window!  Stewart writes, “Instead of telling yourself what you don’t have or what you’re not good at, tell yourself what you do have and what you’re good at.”  So I’m out of time to prepare.  Well, I have a horse that lives on pasture most of the time and does a fairly good job of staying fit.  We won’t worry about coming in on time.  We can canter and jump for five and a half minutes.

Nutmeg may be missing a shoe, but I have an Easyboot.  That helped us eek out one more ride.  Sadly her foot is in no shape to work now even with the Easyboot.  I can’t ride Nutmeg, but I can use my time wisely.  I can pack, pull manes, clean the house (oh the horror!), mow the grass, etc.  So when the doors start slamming, look for the window.

Tip #2: Present vs. Past/Future Mindsets

Or as I think of it, Don’t look where you don’t want to go!  Stewart says, “…instead of focusing on past failures or the pressure of future outcomes, keep your mind locked in the present.”  For me at least, it’s pretty easy to stay focused when we’re galloping down to a big jump, but the same keenness of focus is much harder to find in my daily routine.  The what-ifs and past experiences plague me. 

We are really struggling with our canter departs right now.  Nutmeg absolutely rockets out from under me.  For our dressage test, we pick up the canter and within four strides make a fifteen meter circle.  Lately, I’d be lucky if I could make a forty-five meter circle.  Add to that our nasty history of jumping out of the arena in the canter.  My brain wants to go there.  If I’m thinking of jumping out of the arena, I can be sure I’ll look out, Nutmeg’s shoulders will follow my eyes and out we go.  Our canter isn’t going to improve until I focus on what it should be, not what I’m anticipating it will be.  I need to get back on Admiral and rediscover that feel.  He has such nice quiet, round canter departs.   Perhaps I can channel that feeling.

Recently the Eventing World lost a rider on cross country.  It’s easy for all of us to gulp and wonder how close we’ve been or wonder if the next time we ride out of the start box, it will be us.  All those thoughts do absolutely no good.  They distract us from our present job, to ride the best we can every step of the way.  We must stay focused in the now.  Don’t let your mind go where you don’t want to follow.  Just don’t.  Worrying never helped anything.  Prepare and put all your thoughts and actions into preparing the best you can, then ride each step the way you prepared.

Tip #3: Belief vs. Fear Driven Mindsets

Or as I say, Ride what you brought.  Stewart suggests, “Instead of focusing on what you’re afraid of, teach yourself to focus on what you believe you can make happen.”  There are days I ride a fire breathing dragon.  Don’t laugh.  I truly believe fire comes out both ends and my horse grows a story taller with a long scaly neck and a complete disregard for anyone’s safety.  It happens.  On those days, I believe I we can end better than we started.  I believe I can find my horse again and that’s about it.  At that point, there is no point in being afraid of the humiliation I’m going to face in the ring.  Any chance at pride fled when the dragon emerged from the trailer.  Really, have you ever know anyone to look dignified sitting atop a giant lizard?  If things are truly horrible and I don’t believe I can’t ride safely, then I don’t.  I get off.  I do something different.  I’m not afraid of falling, I just don’t believe riding is safe and if I’m at that point, it isn’t.

That might be a bit of an exaggeration, but that doesn’t make it any less true.  My stomach keeps trying to leap into my throat at the thought of running Training in Kentucky without much prep time.  With the recent rider fatality, it’s easy to start down the fear road.  When I do, I remind myself that we wouldn’t have entered Training if I (we) didn’t believe it was within our ability.  I remind myself that we’ve done it before.  I remind myself of all the exercises we’ve done to prepare and I remind myself that the only pressure is the pressure I put on myself.  If we arrive at the park and discover a question I don’t believe we’re ready to answer, I don’t need to fear it; I need to find a way to believe we can do it.  If we trot, will that make the question answerable?  If we take the first jump, can we circle and then do the next?  What would I do if we were presenting this question in a schooling setting?  If there is no way for me to believe we can do it, we won’t.  Fear need never enter into it.  We’re afraid when we are over faced.  If we are over faced, we need to back off.  Ride what you brought and bring what you need.  Don’t wish you brought an elephant, when all you have is a mouse and don’t take a knife to a gun fight.

Well, that’s the very long way to say life isn’t going to get any easier by thinking about it.  Plans will change.  Horses will lose shoes or get hurt.  Random acts will upset your wonderful routine.  Life will go on.  Find the window, look out it, then ride that dang elephant right through!  Hopefully you found a little humor and a Fresh Perspective on the fluttering of nerves that plagues us all at some point in time.  If you want to read Daniel Stewart's original article, Click Here.

Clapping Hard for Catalpa Crew

What a weekend.  Seriously, it was picture perfect in almost every way.  Maybe I was just over the moon to be competing Nutmeg again or maybe all the stars really did align.  Whatever the cosmos was up to, I liked it!

We set off bright and early Friday morning on our five and a half hour drive to the Catalpa Corner Horse Trials near Iowa City, IA.  Although Admiral tried to make the loading process difficult by dashing around the pasture, Nutmeg had her mind on business and hopped right on the trailer.  With dog, horse and husband in tow, off we went!

I’m a bit of a nerd when it comes to research, so I generally have a good idea of what I’m getting myself into.  I’d Google snooped photos of the park, taken directions from several sources, and memorized the stabling map.  I knew I was right by the road in A14.  I knew I didn’t get an end stall, but I figured I’d be in tent stabling anyway, so what did it matter. 

Well, sometimes research is misleading.  We were right by the road, but a thick grove of trees

Our Weekend Crib

protected us from the gravel dust.  The barn was as far from a tent barn as you can get.  Concrete walls, big wide gates and windows!  Nutmeg was so happy in her stall and I was thrilled that she had room to turn around.  The weather was outstanding, but the barn was so well insulated that it was probably five to ten degrees cooler so we really got spoiled.

As was my research, so was the GPS a bit misleading.  It told us it was 290 miles door to door.  We can do that without filling the gas tanks, so we did.  Bad choice.  We pulled in on fumes.  I was switching back and forth between tanks every corner when the gauge dipped dangerously low.  I was more than slightly panicked.  Correctly reading my state of worry, the secretary put everything else that was pulling her in ten directions aside to look up where the absolute nearest place to buy diesel was located and to give me step by step directions.  I suddenly felt like Royalty. 

After settling in the big red head, we went for an explore around cross country.  I’d seen pictures, but they just didn’t do the facility justice.  Absolutely gorgeous setting!  Our first two jumps were located in a lane of trees and the detail of the decorations was fabulous.  Every time we turned around, you could tell the Catalpa Corner organizers were dedicated to hosting a top-notch event.

 

 

 Normally after my cross country walking I’m cautiously optimistic.  Friday evening, I couldn’t wait for Saturday because I was sure we were just going to have too much fun!  We put in a not to embarrassing dressage test.  It was sloppy, but it was mostly relaxed.  We didn’t fight and that is a victory.  I received notes that my reins were too long.  Well yeah, but for the first time ever "Resistant of rein aids" wasn't underlined three times.

Cross country was as much fun as I expected it to be.  This was Nutmeg’s first time jumping in trees with shadows playing on the jump faces.  It peaked her interest, but as usual, she was happy to gallop on.  We didn’t get compacted enough going into the half coffin, but squiggled through it.  The following jump was a bit messy as we recovered our decorum.   

Option Fence #10

Novice was given an option to go up the stair steps or to take a three stride chevron line.  I was originally worried about the footing on the steps because it seemed nearly concrete, but after watching a couple of training riders hop up it, I decided we’d give it a go and it rode very well.  Nutmeg thought we should be done about fence 12, but thankfully grabbed her second wind as we galloped up the hill.  I saw long and she saw short at fence 17 and we hit it hard.  I felt horrible, but it didn’t seem to faze her.  She sure picked up her feet over the last two fences. 

It was a real pleasure to ride around such a flowing course.  My watch went on the fritz right before I headed out, but the friendly timing volunteers were able to give me my start and finish times so I knew we’d done just fine on our pace (six seconds under optimum).  It was a bit of a walk back to the barns (the back of my heel is cursing my good horsemanship), but the bottled water handed out by the pinny collector was highly appreciated.

The decorations for show jumping were just as detailed as cross country.  It was a delightful course that rode nicely for many people.  Nutmeg shocked me by peeking at the in of the two stride, but in true eventer fashion we pulled through.  It was ugly but we got the job done.  We ended up with two rails.  I believe I can chalk them up to the fact neither of us is as fit as we should be.  I let her get flat.  Now we have a very firm idea of where we are and where we need to be in 24 days when we head for Kentucky.

I just can’t say enough good things about the event.  We had a great time and there were no big snafus that I heard about.  Unfortunately, someone lost their horse on the way to the event.  Everyone’s hearts certainly go out to them and their horrible loss.  With that shadow put aside, the sun shone brightly, the temperature stayed below 80, and everyone can home safely.  Five and a half hours was certainly worth it.  Oh did I mention the Catalpa staff were working with four to five times the number of competitors they were originally expecting?  The scheduling was brilliant and it had the feel of a really big, really well run event.  Thank you so much to the Catalpa Corner HT staff.  You guys rocked it!



"Water Piggies."  The dog was well pleased that there were two water jumps.

Ricky Raccoon



A "coop" that actually is a coop, complete with nesting boxes.

Giving Up!

“Men are born soft and supple; dead they are stiff and hard.  Plants are born tender and pliant; dead they are brittle and dry.  Thus whoever is stiff and inflexible is a disciple of death.  Whoever is soft and yielding is a disciple of life.  The hard and stiff will be broken.  The soft and supple will prevail.”

                                                                                                         -          Lao Tzu
 

Who knows what makes us hard.  Maybe the hard world in which we live.  Maybe the people we must deal with.  Maybe we grow hard to better shoulder the burdens we place on ourselves.  Maybe in trying to be soft and pliable, we stretch ourselves too far and snap, leaving nothing but broken twigs.

The idea of giving is a difficult one for me to put into practice.  Sadly, I am not a particularly generous person by nature, at least with my money or possessions.  Time I give away like it’s going out of style and that causes its own set of problems.  With personal matters set aside, my horse has been teaching me the reward of giving.

I had the privilege of taking a “bungee” lesson last month.  From a lady who pegged me as “stressed and intense,” I received a tool that started to teach me to release.  “Release?” you wonder.  “Haven’t you been jumping for years?  You should know how to release by now!”  Yes, I should, but I’m not talking about a jumping release.  It’s much harder to soften the tension on the bit when all four feet are still moving across the ground, at least that’s the case for me.

I know I’m not strong enough to hold up a 1200 lb. horse, but I still let them talk me into just that.  Once you have their momentum riding on your hands, dropping that support feels as stupid as trying to touch your toes at a dead run.  The mental picture is far from pretty.  The bungee helped me find my center and while I released the tension on the rein, I did not just drop the horse on its nose.  The results spoke for themselves.  We went from stiff and pulling to supple, bouncy, and malleable.  It was wonderful.

 I thought hard about that sensation.  About how I was forced to let go, in order to make progress.  It was literally impossible to achieve the balance and harmony required of us if I didn’t give up control.  I began to realize how applicable the lesson was to the rest of my life.

I’ve been having a little trouble in my daily life dealing with some people.  They’ve taken advantage of me and left me very angry.  I hung on to that anger, letting it fester and feed itself.  I let my anger role off me in clouds, hoping it would ooze into them and they would realize how much their actions bothered me.  They didn’t and that only made me angrier and that made me miserable, but I kept at it.

Albert Einstein is famous for his insanity quote (and maybe a few other things). “Insanity: doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results.”  In my riding, I had been pulling and pulling and hoping eventually the horse would respond.  At work, I just got madder and madder and hoped someone would notice.  I’ve been wasting precious time.

“For every minute you remain angry, you give up sixty seconds of peace of mind.” – Ralph Waldo Emerson

So, I’m giving up!  When Nutmeg starts to pull, I center myself and give instead.  When someone ticks me off, I haven’t quite figured out how not to get mad, but I’m not going to harbor that anger and let it take over.  Don’t get me wrong, I’m far from becoming a sopping flopping wet rag.  In order to give the rein without dropping the contact, I have to be strong in my center.  In order to put aside anger, I must find a peace within myself and I must hold true to myself preventing others from controlling my decisions and attitude.

I’m giving up, but not giving in.  It’s a Fresh Perspective for me.  I hope it will make me a softer person, a happier individual and a better rider.  What do you need to release from your death grip?

The "Eyes" Have It

I had an interesting discussion with my boss this week.  We were discussing how to properly negotiate a turn on a motorcycle (don’t ask me why), when he piped up with, “the key is where you’re looking.”  Truer words are rarely spoken.

Of course, as horseback riders, we know the importance of where we look.  If you’ve ever taken a lesson with me you’ve heard it at least three times.  You go where you look.  If you look down, you’re headed over your horse’s ears.  If you look around the corner to your jump, you’ll find a good spot.  If you keep your eyes soft and aware of the other riders around you, you won’t end up body checking your best friend with your 1000 pound equine.  Looking where you want to go when riding is as essential as wearing your helmet.

Never missing an opportunity to talk horses, I explained to my boss that the phenomenon he observed while riding motorcycles, was actually pretty common.  Not only with horses, but skiing, snowboarding, sailing, driving, you get the idea. 

My boss is a wise man.  I should have seen him steering the conversation from the very beginning.  Like a master chess player, he was looking four moves ahead when he started talking about motorcycles.  By starting my brain down the right path, he was able to sit back while I came to the conclusion he intended from the beginning.  The key is where you’re looking, not just in sports, but in all of life.

At work, if we’re always looking at what we can’t do or what we have to do to get by, we never see the possibility of what we’re capable of.  The cannot’s and have to’s cloud the potential horizon.

Lately I’ve been very focused on all the obstacles and not how to overcome them.  I know from jumping that staring down the intimidating fence isn’t going to get me safely over it.  We have to plan our approaches, think and ride positively and keep those eyes focused on the far side.  We can do the same with the obstacles facing us in life.  It isn’t really a Fresh Perspective, just a repurposed one. 

“It may be hard for an egg to turn into a bird.  It would be a jolly sight harder for it to learn to fly while remaining an egg.  We are like eggs at present.  And you cannot go on indefinitely being just an ordinary, decent egg.  We must be hatched or go bad.”
                                                                                        -          C.S. Lewis

It’s time to break the shell that’s been caging me.  I’ve been riding Nutmeg in the morning to beat the heat and beat the exhaustion I always feel after work.  Admiral has been working in the evenings, since it’s much easier to find the motivation to long line than ride.  Fingers are crossed.  The husband has been making motions toward riding again.  We cleaned the cobwebs out of his helmet last night.  Maybe more than one shell is preparing to crack.