Trail Rides

I recently went horseback riding with a friend. It was one of those mornings - sun barely out, hiding behind the clouds, a bit windy, cool … it was just the two of us - even though it wasn’t a private ride, it turned into one. 

It was perfect!

I love horseback riding.  I have as long as I can remember.  There is something about being out on a trail … it feels like magic … like being suspended between two worlds.

What’s odd - I’ve been on several trail rides as an adult - so this wasn’t my first.  Yet - this time felt different.  I remembered trail rides from when I was a kid … those perfect summer days, blue skies, sun shining, warm - not hot - and a warm breeze to keep the day from feeling heavy or uncomfortable.  I went to a riding camp a couple times as a kid … lessons in the morning, trail rides in the evening or vice versa … plus it was a sleep over camp - doesn’t get better than that!

I’ve always had a soft spot for horses.  There is a grace in how they move, a gentleness in their manner, a quiet wisdom that lives deep within their gaze. 

When I was first learning to ride, a friend used to teach me.  Her family lived on a farm and had horses.  While I loved it - it also terrified me.  I could never fully appreciate or let go during a run.  Walking and trotting - I felt in control.  Cantering … I wasn’t and that terrified me.  After a lesson, my friend told me to fall off the horse.  I was afraid of falling - so fall off. I did.  It hurt like hell - but I was fine.  She made her point. 

Contextual side bar: while kids don’t always think through execution - the rationale was solid. When she told her parents they freaked out, they were terrified my parents were going to sue … which confused us both.  She had made her point - the point I needed to learn.  I chose to fall - she hadn’t pushed me.  I learned to let go.  

It’s funny what memories randomly return to the surface … learning to let go that day made me a better rider.  I learned to trust the horses movements, understand they were responding to my emotions and the act of letting go let us trust each other, communicate better and respond faster.  

The act of letting go of the need to control gave me more.  

While I ride, I’m aware of my posture, any tension, when I’m holding on when I should be letting go.  It doesn’t matter what horse you’re riding - the cues are similar.  They feel instinctual.

I think that’s one of the reasons I love riding so much. I get to leave the weight of worry, quiet the busyness in my brain … I get to be present.  See, hear, smell, feel everything around me - just as it is in that moment. 

There is something liberating about presence. I feel it everytime I ride. 

I think that’s why it feels like magic - like I’m caught in the energy of a spell, suspended between worlds … I am. Between the me I am when my brain mutes and the world slows and my everyday.

That’s not to say I don’t find those moments.  I’m just navigating that without the benefit of a guide.  No horse’s energy to cue my softening, my stillness … in the real world I need to find other cues, to look inward.

Some days that’s easier said than done.  My brain is noisy … a lot of programs running all at once. 

Slight rabbit hole … a friend and I are convinced our brain functions or processes swapped - once - for a couple weeks. Laughs. She was exhausted. She didn’t understand how I functioned, how I wasn’t exhausted all the time.  Neither of us functioned well with the other's brain.  I’ve become used to the recall my brain has for the multitude of balls I am juggling at any given time.  It saves time.

I am learning to be better with presence.  When I’m not … It's usually because I’m avoiding some truth, some uncomfortable change I know I need to make or needs to happen.  Sometimes I just want to hold onto the comfort a little longer. Somehow, the truth or the reminder feels softer when it comes from a four legged guide. 

Let go.

Trust me.  Trust yourself. 

Let go.