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[RC] Moments of Joy - Tracey LomaxTitle: MessageYesterday, I had two
of the most wonderful rides of my life.
Now, before you get
too excited, let me explain that there was absolutely nothing that anybody else
would find "wow" about them. Perhaps that's why God gave them to me :
because he knew I'd appreciate them for what they were....
I rode Barney first,
took him to the dams to play. On the way, while I was walking along in
what I refer to as "not so much working" walk, I was thinking about how far he's
come since I got him. There was a stage I couldn't take him out alone,
because he'd scream his head off for his buddies, his back would get about a
foot long, and I'd be doing the "million mile an hour" walk. There we
were, ambling along through the veld, checking out the scenery. It also
struck me that I'd been told to put this boy down, that he'd never come sound,
and there we were, no bandages, no boots, completely sound of
limb.
Anyway, we got to
the dams, and I recalled that at first I thought that, notwithstanding his
otherwise lovely mind, I'd never event him, because he wouldn't go through
water. And now, here I was, belly deep in a dam, with him munching on pond
grass and looking at the tadpoles :)
Next thing we were
cantering out, leaping into the next dam, cantering through, leaping out,
cantering, leaping over a bank....it was at that moment that I realised why I
love babies so much - because of THESE victories. These moments of
achievement are as momentous to me as winning a rosette at a show is to a more
competitive rider. Because I'd done what everyone said couldn't be done,
and because I'd done it at no risk to the horse, or myself. And I've turned him
into a horse that everyone now wants to ride, everyone wants to have - one who
is calm, and obedient, and willing, and kind, and talented.
Next, I came home
and asked Albert to bring Diceman up. Now, he's also a horse who was
declared unsound and going to be put down if a suitable home wasn't found.
He was thin, and nervy and worried when he arrived and he's now anything
but. He's fat, shiny, and game for anything. He had no mouth, went
like a plank, and would rear under pressure. Whilst Albert was getting him
ready, I took a look in his eye and thought "it's time" and I asked Albert to
put Barney's bridle on him - a nice, fat aurigan KK snaffle with a cavesson
noseband and no martingale. I hopped up, picked up the reins, and he
immediately dropped onto the contact. A bit of leg and he moved off into a
smooth walk, moving laterally off both legs. Slight leg pressure and we were up
into trot - with no resistance from his mouth. And what a trot : rhythm,
impulsion, a trot which was going places.
The downward
transitions still aren't great, but I know that will come. Right now what
I have is a horse who is "over" his "issues", who really enjoys his job, and who
is blossoming all the time. And I've never had a lesson on him yet.
That's been a huge milestone for me, knowing that I've been able to do this on
my own.
I know there will be
times when I'll despair - that's part of owning horses. But these moments
when they give you everything, where they give of themselves completely and
utterly, trusting in you to do the right thing by them. Those are the
moments I live for. Not the rosettes, not the applause, not the adulation
which comes of riding a brilliant ride. I leave that to riders who are
better and more talented and braver than I.
It's not often I pat
myself on the back as a rider. I live with a man who has so much talent
that watching him ride is awe-inspiring, and I watch my more talented friends do
with horses what I can only dream of. But I know that this, what I have
done, they would have hated. Some people are born to compete and compete
well. But every horse needs a "maker", and yesterday, for the first time,
I knew what it felt like to be a horse "maker'.
In short, I felt
like God.
It's a good thing I
have Toc, who I know will pull the rug out from under my feet in no time,
because that kind of feeling could really go to a girl's head :) But for
now, for tonight, I'm going to sip my gin and tonic and I'm going to look at the
heads sticking out over the stable doors, gazing at me with trust and yes,
dammit, with love, for understanding who they were, and for helping them to
become who they are, and for believing in them every step of the
way.
And I think that,
somewhere, God is smiling and saying "you're welcome".
Regards,
Tracey
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