The Unintended Love

 
The love we do not intend is sometimes the love that saves us. This phrase popped into my head as I was clearing out my emails and contemplating writing for one of the many prompts littering my inbox. These days my muse is a bit of a fickle bitch, so the fact that these words suddenly came to me wasn't something I felt I should ignore. A writer who is not actively writing needs to pay extra attention to such divine inspirations after all.

In many ways, as I think about it, this statement is one of my great truths. I might not have intended to fall in love with my future husband, but I did. At that time in my life, I can honestly say that it was the love that saved me. My heart and faith had been mortally wounded, dealt a death blow by back to back relationships that had worn me down and left me feeling desolate.

Then, unexpectedly and when I wasn't even looking, he entered stage left and restored my hope. In many ways I felt "saved" from taking up a permanent residence in     all my familiar dark places.

And lately, there has been another unintended love that has supported that statement.

Recently various cosmic forces, and one determined little sister, combined to result in us getting a horse for our budding equestrian of a daughter. Roo is 12 year old, sorrel and white painted quarter horse cross that stands about 15.2 hands high. He has a sweet disposition and will be able to grow with my daughter, they are about the same "age" experience-wise overall. When the opportunity presented itself, I knew relatively nothing about horsemanship. I was just starting to get the hang of being a horse-mom though, toting her gear and fetching her tack and using all the right jargon. I enjoyed our times at the barn and her weekly riding lesson was something I had grown to love and look forward too with the same enthusiasm as my daughter. Admittedly though, I hadn't considered ever owning a horse of our own despite the lure of empty and available stalls at my sister's recently purchased horse farm.

Yet, the opportunity arrived. I told myself I would be practical. I told myself that while it might be inevitable given my sister's agenda, it didn't need to be now and it didn't need to be this horse.
Then, it happened. My daughter fell in love with Roo. Unexpectedly however, so did I... the very first instant he nuzzled my shoulder with his big head and turned those big brown eyes in my direction. Roo's owner is good people and she was committed to finding him a "soft place to land". I think she knew he would be my daughter's "heart horse", she might have even expected he'd also become mine too.

For the first time in my life, I came to understand my sister's connection to the animals that had always been part of her life. There is something soulful about horses, some primitive connection that resides in human beings, brought to life by soft nickering and their sweet, grass-scented breath. There is something powerful about an animal who can so easily dominate you, but is simultaneously so willing to try to please you. There is a serenity and grace in these animals and something that borders on the almost mystical.

Roo will always be my daughter's horse and she is very blessed and lucky to have him. He will be a good companion, they will make a good team. He is also however, the second unintended love in my life. He has, in many ways, saved me...albeit in a smaller and more humble way than my husband's love did.

Roo has become the balm on an irritating day and the stream of sudden sunshine on a cloudy one. He is the inspiration to spending special, companionable time with my daughter and my sister, doing barn chores or training. These are hours passed simply and without thought of anxiety, stress or strain. Roo inspires me to think outside my rigid boxes and harness bravery when I feel out of my depth. Roo provides the unique opportunity to see my daughter developing confidence and responsibility because he challenges her to believe in herself, to push herself and to aspire to be stronger.

I tried to explain it all recently to my husband, who to be fair, has not fallen in love with Roo or the idea of having this new 900 lb family member to care for. After a long-winded explanation, I simply ended with, "he makes me happy." And, honestly, that is really just it. Whenever we walk up on his paddock and he flicks his ears and turns in our direction, the worries and concerns of the day just disappear. When I watch my daughter plant kisses on his soft white nose, I feel grateful and blessed. My heart is happy for her and also for him, to know the boundless, unconditional love of a child. My heart is joyful to watch him run, moving with such freedom and grace, but also to see him working with Jaden, seeking that shared conversation between horse and rider. Whenever I take a moment out of grooming him to step in close and lay my head against his neck, breathing in the smell of him, I am content and happy in this simple moment of shared affection. I can see my reflection in his quiet, big brown eyes and it brings me a special peace.

These days, when the crush of daily existence and the pressure of life gets to me, that special peace is what saves me; saves me from rage, from discouragement, from doubt, from the rut of routine. Roo reminds me that my life isn't just about work and bills and responsibilities, but also about things that bring my soul joy. Roo reminds me to take the moment to find happiness and peace in my life - even if I find them in the most unexpected places.

Rage, Hope and Horses

The knowledge that I haven't actually written anything all summer long looms like a shadow over me. I suspect my absence from the world of electronic testimony isn't solely due to a lack of free time. I suspect it also may stem from fearing what would come out if I flung open my personal "Pandora's box", releasing words and sentiments that might be too toxic or too dark to process properly in a single blog entry. While I have experienced great moments of joy in the last few months, I have also had my share of doubt, rage, disillusion and disappointments...and given my predication of writing without self-censorship or apology...I thought it best to abstain until I had a better perspective overall. Or, and this is probably the most true reason, the drive to write something became as unbearable to ignore as my worry of offending some people with what I had to say.

This summer has provided many opportunities to discover things about myself and about the people in my life and its given me a lot of unexpected highs and, unfortunately some pretty big fucking lows too. I have felt uncharacteristically isolated and lonely, but have also found incredible joy and comfort in the re-discovery of old friendships. I have felt the support and connection to some family, but also battled with rejection and abandonment from others. It has been a summer of a hard learning curve, one that has often brought me stress and frustration, but also given me brilliant moments of feeling accomplished and refreshed. At times I have felt both like the Phoenix, as well as the smoldering pile of ash.

This morning, as I let the dogs out, I felt the promise of Autumn in the cool predawn air. I felt myself beginning to write in my head, found my mind going through the mental dance of matching phrasing to feeling. I'd held the words at bay too long and now they were coming, rushing forward like the end of summer. So, here I sit, wondering where to I should begin to start catching myself up.

I supposed I should start with what is at the surface, the arsenal I have at the ready. As it frequently tends to be, the top emotion in my mental totem these days is frustration. I am frustrated with my middle-aged body and its inability to do the things I ask it too. I am often too tired, too sweaty, too unmotivated to do even one of those HITT workouts that I so desperately need. I am frustrated by my 22+ year career which seems to be going exactly nowhere very quickly. I am frustrated by my limitations and even more so, the doubts I have about being a good mom, a better wife.

My level of frustration these days is matched only by my anger. I think I give in to rage more than I should. I think some days I get up and put on a "rage coat", and it feels too heavy for my personal climate. I know I should shuck the rage, toss it off and enjoy life more but some days it feels like its in my bloodstream, coursing beneath my skin, leaving me hot and fevered. I find inspiration in anger. I have written so many letters this summer in fits of rage. They are beautifully rabid works, overflowing with toxic righteousness and resilience. I sometimes love the "enraged and wounded" version of me best, as she writes with a firestarter vengeance that both scares and excites me. I haven't sent those letters. As angry as I have been, I haven't decided to torch all my lost cities to the ground yet.

It hasn't been all been about anger and frustration this summer though. I've reached really far outside my comfort zones and felt rewarded for the effort. I shed an old role or two and taken on some new responsibilities. In a decision that some still consider highly controversial, I became a horse owner. I am discovering, rather simultaneously, that I know next to nothing about owning a horse and also that owning a horse has gifted me with such unexpected peace and joy. It is a wonderfully perplexing dichotomy.

It is hard, so hard, to learn the basics about something so foreign to me. I struggle, a lot. I'm terrified more often than I care admit to myself. I sometimes laugh out loud about how clueless I am...but I also have those moments when I do something right on my own for the first time and I feel like a total rock star. Truth is, I love how hard I have to work at it and when I feel like I've learned something, the sense of accomplishment is something my life has been sorely missing for a long time. I am filled with gratitude for the people who give so freely of their time and knowledge to be our patient teachers and guides on our journey of horsemanship. The truth is that while we got Roo for my daughter, our painted pony has captured so much of my own heart too. The time I spend with Roo and my daughter is like balm on all my sad and wounded places. I imagine in many ways, he will become a special kind of muse for me in the years to come.

Lastly, for I'm nearly at the end of my blogging time allotment today... joy has also been a consistent feature of this summer. Watching my daughter blossom into a fierce and funny beauty under the blue skies and sunshine, has been my greatest blessing. She is coming into herself in delightful ways from making new friends at camps to discovering her own tastes and styles. She has shunned dresses and headbands in favor of shorts and anything sporty. She loathes anything pink. She frequently hijacks my playlist to blast Queen or Imagine Dragons and spends her free time face-timing her friends and snuggling with her dog. My daughter still holds my hand, still wants to fall asleep between her father and I whenever we allow it, and doesn't pull away when I reach to hug her or mess with her hair. She believes in "armless" hugs for everyone but Gramma Boop and her Dad, but most of the time still manages to remember her manners in most situations. In her long legs and sea green eyes , I get hints of the astoundingly beautiful a woman she will be one day. In her boundless laugh and quirky smile, I see the fun and lively teenager she will soon become. I am, as I have been since her birth, incredibly amazed by all that she is and all I know she will do in this life.

There have been many times this summer that I have wandered out onto the back deck and watched my husband mowing the lush green yard. His legs are wrapped around his tractor and he looks lost in his task and in the music in his headphones. He looks like a man in his element and watching him, I've felt wonderfully blessed with him and with our home. I have sat in the twilight of a July evening and watched the bats flying circuits among the high, swaying trees, and felt humbled and grateful in my soul. I have walked the acres of my sister's farm as the sun was setting, felt its retreating warmth on my back, listened to her donkey braying for his dinner and thought to myself....how life could be so simply and so perfectly beautiful in some moments.

All Things Horse-y

30 Day Blogging Challenge
PROMPT January 28th
I had a different prompt in mind for today, but decided as it’s the last Monday of January, we all needed a little pick-me-up.
Write about something happy in your life! What’s happened recently that made you smile? What’s the last thing you laughed at?

In order to fully appreciate this post, I'll have to divulge something about my personal life. I am very close to my sister but and also very different from her. We refer to ourselves as "city mouse" and "country mouse". My sister lives on a 9 acre horse farm with a menagerie that includes goats, horses, cats and dogs - so you can guess which one of us is "city mouse". I frequently joke that I have nightmares of waking up in her life, in some freaky Friday scenario that suddenly finds me running her doggie daycare and boarding business - something I would be ill equipped to do with my wardrobe of heels and pencil skirts. Notably, she says the same exact thing about my life. Until recently, I had no cause to explore my sister's rural and rustic lifestyle. I was content not to ever know the true identity of the substances she ends each day covered with. Then, my sister launched "operation Jaden" and everything changed.

I'm not sure why my sister waited until my daughter was eight to begin her crusade. It might have had something to do with us moving closer, a mere seven minutes from her new horse property. It might have just been that she had bided her time with her only niece long enough. Whatever the reason, last summer she gifted my daughter three weeks of horse camp and subsequently opened her eyes and her heart to the world of horses. My country mouse sister threw the gates to her world of fur and hooves open wide and my daughter marched through, dragging her mom (with her entirely inappropriate barn footwear) with her. Suddenly they were a secret society of two, planning and plotting for a future strewn with horsey things, weekly riding lessons among them. Just as suddenly, I was a barn mom, which meant I was fully engaged in many, many things I had zero experience with. My daughter attacked her learning curve with gusto and passion while I, accepted my fate with as much dignity as I could muster. I bought myself muck boots and dug in, trying to seem anything but completely out of my element.

Here is the thing...and the real meat of the prompt...I've discovered that I like it. I've learned enough to know my way around the barn now. Her Tuesday evening lesson is time I actually look forward to spending with my daughter. I love watching her, acknowledging that she does seem to have the natural ability as a rider that my little sister always had. She is developing confidence and a real appreciation for the mental and physical challenges of riding. She adores my sister too, and I love the connection they share. I love that in so many ways, my sister has become my daughter's hero. It makes my heart happy to watch them together.

It isn't just about my daughter though.

Over the last year, I've grown to love this part of my sister's life, this part we share with her. I love the horses, their dark eyes reflecting something back about us all. I have an appreciation for the ones that work hard, take care of their riders despite having their own limitations. There is a special kind of grace about being with them, these massive animals who outweigh our fragile human bodies yet trust us to guide them and to care for them. There is an exchange of trust that is connected to something in our souls and it moves and fascinates me.

It brings me a kind of peace...the smell of the barn, the wide open sky above the paddocks, the pounding of my daughter's mount in a rolling canter. I enjoy the moments of tacking Sonny up before the lesson with her, sneaking him peppermints to keep him cooperative in the colder weather when he feels his years more. I love visiting my sister's own horses, and the trio of Friesian babies that currently reside with her - each of them mini black beauties that are all spunk and fire.

We had the task of feeding her horses while she was away on her honeymoon and I grew to love the walk out to their pasture to drop their hay and grain in those late October afternoons. They would see us coming, their beautiful heads raised, expectant and welcoming of the meal and the petting session we were about to bestow on them. Again, there is a peace it brings me - similar in the way I used to feel slipping beneath the waves in my dive gear. Similar but different, because I am more then an observer in this world. This world demands my tactile engagement in a way scuba diving did not. Horses want that emotional and physical connection, those touches and words whispered in their soft, flicking ears. I can see why people have horses, there is a quiet magic to them that brings a certain kind of solace in its wake. Being with a horse is like a balm on those ragged parts of our soul.

Recently we were bringing Sonny out of the lesson ring and paused to clean the dirt from his shoes. Since she was stepped on early in the year, this task is one my daughter continues to be leery of. It usually falls to me to "show" her again how to get it done without getting her feet crunched. I've gotten pretty confident about it now, I've come to know how best to get Sonny to bend his leg up so I can clear out the clumps quickly. I was demonstrating for my daughter again...how you have to lean close against him, keeping your feet parallel to his. You have to reach down and grab his foot, easing him with your body weight, to life the leg and keep his body in balance. I must have been demonstrating it with an air of authority because I heard her trainer exclaiming, "wow Mom, look at you!", as she walked up behind us.

I honestly-to-God swelled with pride in that moment. I felt myself smiling. Because, here is the truth, straight from a city mouse's mouth...I like the way I've managed to learn this stuff. I like the fact that I now own muck boots and can rock a head lamp with pride. I like that I know how to tack up a horse and that I go home smelling like them. I love that I can slip in mud or horse poop and not care which one it actually is. I love that I know how to help my daughter zip up her half chaps or that I even know what half chaps are! I love this little bit of country mouse I found in me now. I love it...a lot. It makes me happy in a way I never would have expected.

Jaden's Summer of Ponies

There has likely never been a summer when I have needed to write more and in a twist of cruel irony, have never had less time to do so.

We moved this summer. It has been a challenge in several, largely unanticipated ways. The unforgiving summer humidity coupled with adapting to a new home with a host of issues, has strained every relationship I have at some point. I'd like to say that with each room I "finish", we are settling in and feeling more at home but some days, that seems to be merely sugar-coating it. I know that we will reach a point when we no longer feel overwhelmed and things will become easier, more natural. I look forward to those days with the kind of hope reserved for much larger things in life. For now, I try to go day by day. I try to see the positive, I try to appreciate the progress we are making. I look for the things about this summer that are undeniably joyful.

Jaden is having a remarkable summer. She has grown into a leggy, outspoken girl who has discovered a myriad of new loves and abilities. Like a greenhouse flower, she has blossomed amid the heat and humidity, seemingly unperturbed by the dog days of a summer running a bit too long in the tooth. A surprise week at horse camp has radically transformed a unsettled summer into an adventure. She has fallen in love with horses and with trailing her Aunt Becky through her world of ponies and puppies. Jaden has become the child my sister always dreamed she'd convert from Barbies to show horses and trail rides. The first day of pickup at horse camp, I discovered my fastidious daughter covered from her head to her toes in grime and horsehair, smiling a 100 watt smile and looking as happy as I have ever seen her.

So, a week in horse camp as turned into three thanks to the generosity and stubborn persistence of a favorite Aunt on a mission. Each morning she pulls on her riding tights and laces up her paddock boots. She grabs her helmet bag, a present from her Aunt, which houses the pretty pink riding helmet and riding gloves, and heads into the barn. It has to be unbearable hot most days and the smell is...well, let's just say that it is not my cup of tea, and still she pops out of bed like a daisy, eager to get the to barn and get her pony tacked up. I get videos of her lessons sometimes and I can hardly believe its the same shy girl, posting proudly in her saddle and urging her mount into the rolling canter she loves. I am proud of her and immensely happy to see her bond with my sister as she has this summer.