Swimming Downstream

Here's what I learned after almost exactly one year of riding a green draft cross mare: there might be something YOU want out of a horse. And you can try, four days a week, for a year, and all the hours in between, in your brain when you're obsessing about how to make this horse the right horse -- but in reality, the horse will be the horse she is, and will need what she needs, and that is the fact.

The last time Mags and I went out on the trail, she bolted 3 times in a row. I could handle it. I am now used to horses exploding under me and I rode it like a swan glides across water. Maggie and I were out alone, on a trail we go on all the time.

I realized, walking home that day, when she was back to her regular, boring old self, that all this time I was shaping Maggie into my dream horse, she was trying REALLY hard to be that horse for me, she was doing things she'd never done before, she is bold and hopeful in that way. But I was so rigid in my need to shape things MY way, that I was weaker at seeing what SHE needs. She shouldn't be ridden alone. My job wouldn't have even BEEN that hard all these months, if she hadn't been ridden alone. She needs a horse to mimic. But I only had one horse, so I did what someone can do who has one horse and a crazy desire to accomplish. You ride it.

But walking back that day, I saw Maggie, the hero. She never wanted to do all those things alone. She tried to do all these things for me, and in a short amount of time. But there's no reason to do all those things by herself, with some old mom on top of her, scared, with some dream horse agenda. She should have horse friends around. When she follows along with other horses, she is happy. She's always going to be a strong horse. But she will have her people, her herd. That's what she had in North Dakota, she could count on those few months she got out to pasture with a herd of other girls, and their foals, she had that every spring.

So as of yesterday, my friend Julie has bought Maggie, and she'll get to live with her old friend Ginger, they'll be reuinited like at the end of a war, running to greet each other and Maggie will snort and say "oh my GOD, Becky, you won't believe what I've gone through." And then she'll pack on big men riders that have probably never ridden before, and she'll follow Ginger, and they'll go out with a string of horses in Griffith Park, walking, Maggie's favorite gait, and for Maggie it will be like the end of the Olympics, every day. She will be done excelling. She will bask in glory, and contentment. Riders and horse will be matched, there won't be annoying new things to worry about, and Maggie will have Julie (not the original, but still just as good) as her ultimate leader, who will keep her forever, who loves and speaks horse.

I was only taking her out once a day, and by the end of the day, Maggie was always hanging over the fence, wanting to be in the garage with us, or wanting to do something else, offering to do something else. Now she'll have 70 other horse buddies. They'll play cards, they'll have nachos, they'll take rides, they'll peek at the cute geldings. The outcome of things - it's kind of meaningless, isn't it. When you get to the end, it isn't what you think. It kind of peters out, and then there's usually an abandoned taco stand, and you're thirsty. I guess all the meaty parts are the getting there. But we don't always notice because we're so busy in all the emotion and joy and terror and noise, but we do feel the current, and we ride it without knowing it, it's all a hurled snowball, love and living.

Am I done with horses? (As James Herriott would say, "It's always okay to get another dog.") In Maggie Aftermath, a lady I met yesterday has an old Fjord mare, short, thick and very experienced, who used to do what Maggie's about to start doing, take people on rides through Malibu on a rental string. Lilly can walk the pony all by herself, and I can ride the pony because she's sturdy like Maggie, just shorter. If we want, we can borrow this pony to see how she is at our house. Instead of having to try and force Maggie's size, bulk and inexperience into what we're looking for, there may already be a horse waiting, who's all chocked full of what we need, and lonely. Maggie can be Maggie. And this pony, who knows if she's right, but maybe she'll be a horse the entire neighborhood of kids can climb on right now and gain confidence.

So you CAN try and force things to be what you want. I spent most of my life doing that, and it leaves some spikey, angry residue in your skin. I did succeed with Maggie about 89%. She became what I wanted in lots of ways. But it took a ton of energy, and in the end, Maggie would have been just as happy having no person, and being one amongst many like her friend Ginger did - Ginger just went directly to work. They both came from Colorado on the same trailer. I'm guessing Maggie would have become the exact same horse she is today even if I had never met her. That's what's ridiculous about forcing something. You can choose it, but maybe leaping in with a full heart is better, and knowing when to stop. When it's not the right direction to swim. Stop fighting. Swim downstream. Find someone swimming your way.

I like thinking that it was all me that made her, but in reality, I was making myself nuts. Stretching to the point of breaking - not fun, although one of the perks is becoming a better rider and learning a ton about horses. But I also saw my limits, and went too far past them for too long. That part made me feel anxious, and angry. Maybe how Maggie feels when her limits are tested.

I thought when Maggie came that she was the end of a search. I got her because I only had $400 and I loved drafts because Clyde, the carriage horse, was the most amazing horse I had ever ridden or driven. He was Buddha. Maggie had his body type, but she also had a streak of wild. I never could totally cure that piece, working alone. I tried really hard, but it was like trying to eat soup with chopsticks. I could be alot of things, but I couldn't be me AND OTHER HORSES. As versatile as I am. I lost my sense of humor for awhile. I tripped over it, it was leaking out my pants. After this Maggie year, I did learn what WOULD be good for me: one really safe, gentle, experienced old horse that is good for the kids to start on. A borrowed horse is great. And one regular trail horse, that will do what I ask, including sometimes moving faster, and is safe. Riding together, kids and me. Sometimes alone, but together is good.

Not trying to change to Maggie anymore will be a great relief. Knowing that she is going to a place where she is welcomed and used happily, exactly as she is, is a great relief. Knowing I will get to enjoy her and bring her carrots, is a happy thought. Not having to DO it all, after doing it all, and comically, no one asked me to do it all, I just DID, (as my dad will understand) - a pretty great lesson to learn. Find what you need. It's probably already there. You don't have to work that hard. You just have to find the right path, and gauge how much energy you have. You don't have to kill yourself to get there.

It can even be funny.