Zen and the Art of Horse Grooming

It took me a few lessons to understand the connection between natural horsemanship and grooming. After all, if I was buying an hour of horseback riding lessons, wouldn’t it stand to reason that I should spend the greater part of the hour on the back of a horse? 

And yet, my instructor insisted that I take twenty minutes before each lesson to groom the horse I would ride. Being a fairly good sport, I received my marching orders and a cursory explanation of basic tools and best practices, and set about grooming the dusty Palomino mare who was cross-tied and gazing at me with a wary, liquid eye.

I quickly discovered that a curry comb is like a martini. Only better. The slow, gentle rhythm of circles over circles traveling length and girth while being attentive only to the circle I was in at that very moment was positively transcendent. Only I didn’t know just what to make of it at the time.  After all, I was a woman on a mission, bound and determined to learn how to ride a horse so that I could attack my writing project with greater authenticity.

Enter the thing that looks like a shoe buffing brush. I still don’t know its name, but there’s a stiff one and a soft one.  My instructor taught me to use the stiff brush in forceful, little sweeps over the horse like a broom; and with each sweep I stirred up the dust of family strife and worrisome thoughts that had accumulated in dim corners of my consciousness… then allowed them to rise and float away, paying them no further mind.

Thereafter came a soft, tender brushing that polished the horse’s hair, and in doing so, created light. And I was immersed in it.

The best part of grooming was not the final presentation – but in finally being present.  I stood there with my horse, without distractions, without the wall of human consciousness and ego between us. Zen is the horse’s natural state of being. And it is mine -- at least for twenty minutes on riding days.

I could get used to this.

Seeking from the saddle,

MidLife Rider

Day 1, Lesson 1: Horses Aren't Dogs

Okay, I know that sounds like a big “duh” moment for people who know horses, but for those of us who don’t, this is sorta how it went down:

Me (to pretty, chestnut horse): Hey, buddy, you’re one handsome fella! How y’all doing today? (reaches out to pet said horse)

Horse: Lady, you’re in my personal space.  Back off.

Me: Oh, I get it. You need to look me over, decide I’m okay, right? Want to sniff my hand?

Horse: No, I don’t.

Me: So, I’m supposed to groom you before we ride.  How about it, sweetie, you want to get groomed today? (Starts using the curry comb as instructed.) Okay, this is good stuff, you’re being such a good boy!

Horse:  Flattery will get you nowhere. Let’s just get it done.

And so began my first lesson, an hour-long chat session that must’ve exasperated my instructor and this beautiful horse who cared nothing for being fawned over like a puppy and everything about the leadership ability of the human on his back. Of that I demonstrated precious little.  Without Milk Bones in my pocket, I had no idea how to ask for what I wanted. And so we sat. And sat. And sat some more.

“Raise your energy!” my instructor called out to me.

“WooHoo!” I shouted internally. “Let’s ride!”

“Did you say something?” the horse seemed to reply as he twitched his ears ever so slightly. He shuffled his feet and hung his head. And so we sat awhile longer. The sky was a deep blue. I started noticing the shapes of the clouds drifting by.

“Walk.” My instructor finally commanded. The horse dutifully picked up his head and took a lumbering step forward; then another and another until we were halfway around the pen.  I murmured a steady stream of encouragement and sat taller in the saddle. I was riding at last.

After a few more laps punctuated by my effusive whispers of thanks and praise, the horse slowly walked to the center of the ring and stopped at an invisible taxi stand sign.

Horse: So, this is where you get off.

Me: Yep. Got it. Thanks for the ride.

I awkwardly dismounted, led the horse back to the paddock, and fished in my pockets. I had nothing to offer my new, non-canine friend to reward him for his time and attention.  Not that it mattered. The minute he was unloosed from his halter, he turned his big, beautiful butt to me and trotted off without a second look.

“Next time, bring some game.” I thought I heard him say.

I turned to my instructor. “I think he hates me.” I lamented.

“Nah,” she nonchalantly replied. “He just doesn’t respect you.”

I stood alone at the gate for an extra moment or two and contemplated the difference between my effortless relationship with my dogs (fellow predators), and this strange, new paradigm that required me to elicit trust and respect from an prey animal hard-wired to flee from the likes of me.

It would take more than sweet talk and liver bits. Just how much more, I had no idea….

Seeking from the saddle,

MidLife Rider

What Was I Thinking?

So, what makes an adult woman with no previous inclination or desire to ride a horse suddenly decide to take horseback riding lessons, ever mindful that:

a) the cost of a block of private lessons could easily buy a rockin’ pair of Sam Edelman shoes (yes, I care about shoes, deeply);

b) I'm a middle aged woman whose “core muscles” have deferred to time and taste buds;

c) I have been made acutely aware by family members that a catastrophic fall from a cantering horse could prematurely put me in adult diapers; and

d) there seems to be no real purpose or goal to my riding. Nevertheless, there’s a will... a strong, deep, ineffable call to keep going... destination unknown.

Therefore, this blog is simply about the journey.

I started taking lessons just six months ago, with a three-month interruption for my father’s sudden illness and death. I now have approximately 15 hours in the saddle, but I’ll start this chronicle with my first lesson at a small riding stable that specializes in “natural horsemanship.” It was great background for the screenplay I was writing at the time (the protagonist is sent to a remote guest ranch that doubles as a equine-based healing center). Little did I know that life would imitate art.  

Hold your horses -- more to come! ;)

Seeking from the saddle,

MidLife Rider