Cross Seven
04-11-2009, 10:39 PM
I have no idea who wrote it...it came to me in an email. Wish I knew...I would give them credit for it.
Happy Easter everyone.
I ride.
That seems like such a simple statement.
However as many women who ride know it is really a
complicated matter. It has to do with power and empowerment.
Being able to do things you might have once considered out
of reach or ability.
I have considered this as I
shoveled manure, filled water barrels in the
cold rain, waited for the
vet/farrier/electrician/hay delivery,
changed a tire on a horse
trailer by the side of the freeway,
or cooled a gelding out before
getting down to the business of drinking a cold drink after a
long ride.
The time, the money, the effort
it takes to ride calls for dedication.
At least I call it dedication.
It's a sickness I've had since I was a small girl
bouncing my model horses and
dreaming of the day I would ride a real horse. Most of the
women I ride with understand the meaning of 'the
sickness'. It's not a sport. It's not a hobby.
It's what we do and, in some ways, who we are
as women and human beings.
I ride.
I hook up my trailer and load my gelding. I haul to some
trail head somewhere, unload,
saddle, whistle up my dog and I ride. I breathe in the air,
watch the sunlight filter through the trees and savor the
movement of my horse. My shoulders relax. A smile rides my
sunscreen smeared face. I pull my ball cap down and let the
real world fade into the tracks my horse leaves in the
dust.
Time slows. Flying insects buzz
loudly, looking like fairies. My
gelding flicks his ears and
moves down the trail. I can smell his sweat and it is
perfume to my senses. Time slows. The rhythm of the walk and
the movement of the leaves become my focus. My saddle creaks
and the leather rein in my hand softens with the warmth.
I consider the simple
statement; I ride.
I think of all I do because I
ride . Climb granite slabs,
wade into a freezing lake, race a friend
through the manzanita all the
while laughing and feeling my heart in my chest. Other days
just the act of mounting and dismounting can be a real
accomplishment. Still I ride, no matter how tired or how
much my seat bones or any of the numerous horse related
injuries hurt. I ride. And I feel better for doing so.
The beauty I've seen
because I ride amazes me. I've ridden out to
find lakes that remain, for the
most part, unseen. Caves, dark and cold beside rivers full
and rolling are the scenes I see in my dreams. The Granite
Stairway at Echo Summit, bald eagles on the wing and bobcats
on the prowl add to the empowerment and joy in my heart.
I think of the people, mostly
women, I've met. I consider how
competent they all are. Not a
weenie amongst the bunch. We haul 40ft rigs, we back into
tight spaces without clipping a tree. We set up camp. Tend
the horses. We cook and keep safe. We understand and love
our companions, the horse. We respect each other and those
we encounter on the trail. We know that if you are out there
riding, you also shovel, fill, wait and doctor. Your hands
are a little rough and you travel with out makeup or hair
gel. You do without to afford the 'sickness' and
probably, when you were a small girl, you bounced a model
horse while you dreamed of riding a real one.
Happy Easter everyone.
I ride.
That seems like such a simple statement.
However as many women who ride know it is really a
complicated matter. It has to do with power and empowerment.
Being able to do things you might have once considered out
of reach or ability.
I have considered this as I
shoveled manure, filled water barrels in the
cold rain, waited for the
vet/farrier/electrician/hay delivery,
changed a tire on a horse
trailer by the side of the freeway,
or cooled a gelding out before
getting down to the business of drinking a cold drink after a
long ride.
The time, the money, the effort
it takes to ride calls for dedication.
At least I call it dedication.
It's a sickness I've had since I was a small girl
bouncing my model horses and
dreaming of the day I would ride a real horse. Most of the
women I ride with understand the meaning of 'the
sickness'. It's not a sport. It's not a hobby.
It's what we do and, in some ways, who we are
as women and human beings.
I ride.
I hook up my trailer and load my gelding. I haul to some
trail head somewhere, unload,
saddle, whistle up my dog and I ride. I breathe in the air,
watch the sunlight filter through the trees and savor the
movement of my horse. My shoulders relax. A smile rides my
sunscreen smeared face. I pull my ball cap down and let the
real world fade into the tracks my horse leaves in the
dust.
Time slows. Flying insects buzz
loudly, looking like fairies. My
gelding flicks his ears and
moves down the trail. I can smell his sweat and it is
perfume to my senses. Time slows. The rhythm of the walk and
the movement of the leaves become my focus. My saddle creaks
and the leather rein in my hand softens with the warmth.
I consider the simple
statement; I ride.
I think of all I do because I
ride . Climb granite slabs,
wade into a freezing lake, race a friend
through the manzanita all the
while laughing and feeling my heart in my chest. Other days
just the act of mounting and dismounting can be a real
accomplishment. Still I ride, no matter how tired or how
much my seat bones or any of the numerous horse related
injuries hurt. I ride. And I feel better for doing so.
The beauty I've seen
because I ride amazes me. I've ridden out to
find lakes that remain, for the
most part, unseen. Caves, dark and cold beside rivers full
and rolling are the scenes I see in my dreams. The Granite
Stairway at Echo Summit, bald eagles on the wing and bobcats
on the prowl add to the empowerment and joy in my heart.
I think of the people, mostly
women, I've met. I consider how
competent they all are. Not a
weenie amongst the bunch. We haul 40ft rigs, we back into
tight spaces without clipping a tree. We set up camp. Tend
the horses. We cook and keep safe. We understand and love
our companions, the horse. We respect each other and those
we encounter on the trail. We know that if you are out there
riding, you also shovel, fill, wait and doctor. Your hands
are a little rough and you travel with out makeup or hair
gel. You do without to afford the 'sickness' and
probably, when you were a small girl, you bounced a model
horse while you dreamed of riding a real one.