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.

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.

Mona Lisa Smiles and the Climb

The summer here in the Northeast is winding down, a fact that seems to be registering in my daughter as she welcomes her last few days of sunlit freedom. We scramble to provide the last play date, day trip and summer-flavored adventure we can fit in as the first day of school approaches. I was looking at her this morning, tan and leggy in her favorite shorts, and I had to marvel at how beautiful she wears the summer. She is natural and comfortable in soft shirts and flip flops. Her hair is a shade lighter and her skin has toasted to a rich mocha which brings out her vibrant sea green eyes. She has matured this summer and its much more obvious when those little girl loose teeth are hidden by her shy, Mona Lisa smile. She looks older, less childlike. The hints of the young woman she will be are there in her candid postures and her quiet moments. I see those delicate lines of grace and poise and I find myself transfixed by her sudden and exotic beauty. My daughter is lovely and graceful in all the ways I failed to be at her age. I had been, and still very much am, a pale and ordinary child of Winter. This Summer has been good to her. It has wrapped her in its warmest embrace and made her golden.

"Blog City ~ Every Blogger's Paradise"
Day 899 August 24, 2016
Prompt: "The Young and the Restless" has just celebrated it's 11,000th episode. With that in mind, what are some of your favorite episodes of your life? You can talk about your bad ones as well. I look forward to reading your entry.

I have had my share of bad episodes for certain but they are far outweighed by the good ones. A highlight reel of those good episodes would look a lot like your typical trip down memory lane with all the requisite milestones; high school graduation, first day of college, first day meeting my soul sister, a first date with the future husband, our wedding, the birth of our daughter...all those same really big "good ones" that anyone with a blessed life can claim. There has been so much more light than darkness, even if at times it seemed as if darkness was all I was due.


"Blogging Circle of Friends "
DAY 1379 August 24, 2016
Prompt: "But why did you go there in the first place?"

The end of the light came with surprisingly little drama. Like the final flicker of a dying match, the space around her winked into darkness. Mallory shifted her body in the narrow space, resting her back against the ledge. She slowly stretched one leg out, the tendons protesting, until her boot hung loosely out over a precipice that was darker still. Night was here and with its arrival, the knowledge that she had spent five hours alone trying to navigate the face of the evil Bodner's cliff washed over her.

Stuck. Five hours into her climb, Mallory had to admit to herself that she was stuck. Now having lost the light, she would be forced to wait out the night from her perch, facing long hours in which she would ask herself over and over how she had made such a deplorable decision to attempt this climb alone. She would think about her cell phone, mocking her from were it sat in her jeep's cup holder and her water bottle at the bottom of a ravine. Mallory had dropped it when she landed on the ledge, had listened to it clack and crack against rock the whole way down. She had cursed then, a stream of the worse obscenities she could muster.

Mallory had billed this climb as an empowering rise above a bad divorce. She was going to tackle the toughest cliff she could find in the fifty miles radius around the apartment she'd been forced to vacate and she was going to "climb the hell out of that bitch!". The arduous ordeal would be a catharsis. It would help her heal. The few friends she had managed to keep in the divorce had cheered her on. Her parents had upgraded her best climbing gear. Mallory had felt ready. She had not been. The cliff had bested her in the end.

Escaping Octopi and Sweet Moments of Motherhood

"Blog City ~ Every Blogger's Paradise"
Day 829 June 15, 2016
Prompt: What was your worst summer job? What was your best summer job?

The best summer job I ever had, was oddly enough, also the worst. I'm not sure it would even qualify as a "job" in that I didn't even get paid. It was a volunteer stint, meant to garner my resume and expand on my experience, as a Sea Urchin at my local aquarium. The job lasted approximately three months and provided many rich experiences for an aspiring marine scientist.

Not all those experiences were wonderful however. The work was tough some days. Messy. I spent lots of hours pressing meds into the gills of freshly gutted mackerel or blending the odious mixture of "fish chum" that comprised a major part of our exhibit's diets. I also cleaned tanks, scrubbing stubborn deposit stains off the glass until my fingers ached. One time, while cleaning a bi-level exhibit featuring a trout stream, I slid down the artificial hill and into the "stream". The thigh high waders I was wearing quickly filled with the cold water and the trout. I struggled to find my footing and my dignity while an excited family laughed and took pictures on the other side of the glass.

The worst day of that summer job however came at the hands of our aquarium's residence Pacific octopus. I loathed cleaning that dark tank and had to lean way over the edge to scoop out the strands of feces at the bottom, my eyes constantly darting back to the blurry pink blob pressed into the far corner. This one particular day, as my luck would have it, the octopus made his move. He grabbed my pole and used it to lever most of his body up and over the edge of the tank. I'll never forget the cold, fleshy feel of his tentacles sliding over my arms or how quickly it moved. My heart racketed with alarm and I fought to drive him back into the depths. I've never quite gotten past the experience and I never cleaned that tank again, begging off each time it appeared on my roster.

"Blogging Circle of Friends "
DAY 1309: June 15, 2016
Open Prompt

My daughter open her sleep tired eyes this morning and told me, with a furrowed brow, that she had a bad dream. It was only 6am and since school is out for the summer, it was very early for her to be awake. I pulled her close and felt her little arms encircle my neck, felt her slide one leg over my hip, drawing our bodies even closer. In a few minutes, she drifted off to sleep again, feeling secure and safe from whatever had chased her in her dreams. I gave myself an extra thirty minutes on my alarm and settled in with her, feeling secure and safe myself. At 6, my daughter is more than capable to sleep in her own bed, on her own. She does, on occasion, spend entire nights there. More often then not, I wake up to her presence in our bed, waking to find she's wriggled between our sleeping bodies in wee hours of morning. The truth is, I don't mind. These moments of comfort and cuddling will be sweet but brief. She won't always want to sleep in our bed. She won't always need my reassurance after a bad dream. I won't wake up with her arms or legs wrapped possessively around me, or open my eyes to find her and her father entangled, face to face and snoring happily. Fleeting are the sweetest moments of motherhood. I cherish these little moments - treasure our sun-filled Sunday mornings, our family walks, our lazy afternoons....

The Summer Leap and the Looking Glass

"Blog City ~ Every Blogger's Paradise"
Day 815 June 1, 2016
Prompt: "I knew who was when I got up when I got up this morning but I must have changed several times since then." Alice Through The Looking Glass Do you ever feel like this?

There was a time, during the darker times of my life, when I would have said I often felt like this. It wasn't uncommon for me to spend many a sleepless night making decisions and coming to reasonable conclusions only to wake up in the wee hours of morning, plagued by second thoughts and doubting my nocturnal convictions. It was a time when my heart was misaligned with my head. I wanted something so badly I was able to defer reality and sound reasoning...but only for so long. I remember feeling trapped in this impossible place, locked in love with an addict that was determined to find the bottom - with or without me. I was lost, looking for hope and promise in every corner of every sad, empty room in our broken house. I am thankful for that one horrible, heartbreaking day when I finally saw that it had become him or me. I chose me. I look back at the time now with some measure of pride. I ultimately did make the right decisions for my life and my wonderful little family is my reward for getting my heart and head on the same page.

"Blogging Circle of Friends "
Day 1295: June 1, 2016
June 1 is Dare Day. I dare you to take the challenge and write something using these words: dice, provoke, fluffy, wind, dare, purring, nuts, aid. Write a story or poem about something daring or challenging. Have fun.

It had been a stupid dare that brought him to precarious point. Tyson turned his face into the wind and tried not to look down.

They had called him chicken shit, each of them hurling the insult back over their shoulders as they launched their summer browned bodies over the edge. They had meant to provoke him but instead of stoking the fire of pride in his gut, their chiding had only serve to cement his fears. He heard their raucous laughter. He could see them splashing about in the dark, still waters below each time he dared to glance down from the lip of the quarry. Tyson knew, to the very core of his soul, that this would not end well. His knees began to knock as he felt the heat of the July afternoon bearing down on his bare shoulders.

All at once there was a soft voice at his ear, a sound like warm honey.

"You don't have to listen to them Tyson. I was scared to jump the first time too."

Tyson turned to stare at Myra Wilson. She was a vision. She had a smattering of cinnamon colored freckles on her smooth, pale shoulders. Her long red hair was pulled back and piled high on her head showing off her lovely, long neck. Her suit was bright yellow with white polka dots and had fluffy ruffles on both hips. She stood, looking at him kindly as she so often did.

Tyson swallowed. He hadn't even know she was there that day. Tyson felt the heat rise into his cheeks, felt a pleasant, purring vibration in his center. Now what? Could he really tempt fate? Should he risk his life or risk looking like a baby in front of the girl he'd been in love with since the first grade? On the other hand, he was only twelve...he had not lived nearly long enough and Tyson thought he only had a 50/50 chance of surviving the jump. He looked at Myra, then down at the water. He tossed the mental dice...and ended up with snake eyes. Tyson launched himself out into the atmosphere, instinctively cupping both hands around his delicate nuts as gravity claimed him and dragged him down toward the depths below.

Tyson prayed for only two things as he impacted the water's surface...first, that his joker friends would be quick to respond with the necessary first aid and second, that on the off chance he survived, he'd get to kiss Myra's beautiful face before the day was over.

Sacred Places and Camping Spaces

 
Sacred Places and Camping Spaces "Blogging Circle of Friends "
DAY 1239: April 6, 2016
Prompt: "Your sacred space is where you can find yourself again and again." Joseph Campbell Where is your sacred space?

Not far from my office is the college campus of UCONN, Avery Point. Its a coastal campus with wide green lawns and extensive, unobstructed views of the sound. The gray mansion on the hill houses administrative offices but serves as a photogenic backdrop for weddings and events and you can occasional catch a glimpse of a bridal party or prom couple. A brick pathway runs all along the edge of the property and that takes you to the foot of an old yellow brick lighthouse. Benches and stone and metal sculptures dot the beautiful landscape and there is a viewing platform where you can watch the boats and look out over the ocean. There is often a collection of rod and reel fisherman on the outcrop of rocks going after porgies and rock fish. This place comes as close to sacred for me as any. I walk there in the summer, taking in the sights and sounds. In the heat of July and August, there is always a breeze and plenty of shaded benches to catch my breath. When I'm feeling adventures and have the time to spare, sometimes I'll venture out onto the rocks, catching the sea breeze on my face as I get closer to the water. I attended my last few classes of my college career here and I loved reading under the massive weeping willow before lectures. Later, it was the place I met my friend for lunch or long walks where we would planned a future that would never come. When my daughter was a toddler, I would sometimes bring her for picnic lunches. We did one of her early photo shoots here and I remember her running through the green grass dressed in an angelic white tulle dress, the ocean flat and blue behind her. One day, Spring will come again to my part of New England and I am sure I will find the time to once again walk the path to the lighthouse, clamber over the rocks and take the time to appreciate this lovely place.

 "Blog City ~ Every Blogger's Paradise"
Day 760 April 6, 2016
Prompt: Is there something you like and love but not what comes with it? Like I love tea pots and tea cups but I don't drink tea. Got the idea? Write about it.

Camping. I love the outdoors. I love sleeping under the stars, roaring campfires and being out in the open space but I hate camping. I hate spider-web filled outhouses and sticky tents. I hate dirty bare feet kicking around the campsite before crawling in under the tent flaps. I hate bug-filled walks to shower blocks that only operate on coins. I hate camp showers that go cold halfway through. I understand the appeal of the experiences, those "get-back-to-nature" and "family-fun" concepts. I get it. I just prefer to do my camping at 4-star camp grounds and with a stock and comfortable RV where shoes are not optional and the bathroom is two feet away.

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