TRAINING LOG 08.06.09
Two horses on the docket today: Mona and Kat. Since these are the horses with deadlines, they get priority sessions. First up was Kat.

My initial challenge was getting her from the pasture with Mona to the round pen on the other side of the barn. Sounds simple, right? Not with a RBE with separation anxiety. A whinny duet commenced, complete with panicked left-behind Arabian tearing around the pasture, and panicked Pintabian trying to run over me.

Oh, yes, I was being very mindful of the thresholds. But for Kat, her threshold is five feet away from Mona on the other side of the fence.

Actually, let me rethink that. It just occurred to me that it's really away from Mona with a human on the end of the line.

I had a plan, though. We'd successfully gotten Mona to the round pen in the same condition the first day; and since our round pen session, she was much better. I think I made a mistake with Kat the previous day, and went in with a new plan.

Instead of being firm, I'd try mirroring her.

It started with her being so upset she was half-rearing at the round pen fence trying to get out. I just ignored that and kept mirroring her behavior like Linda did on the Dec 2004 (I think) SC DVD.

Guess what.

It worked.

Pretty soon she tuned into me, and both stopped whinnying. When it was "safe", I entered the corral and continued mirroring. At some point it changed to becoming leader. I don't know how to describe it. It was more of a knowing. I got her through games 1-4. She is having major trouble with friendly stick and string. This is why I think she might be a difficult horse, not ready to ride in a week or so. She cannot tolerate string on back; how will she tolerate a saddle let alone a rider?

The last thing we did once she'd sighed hugely and put her head in my lap was to work on gate entrances. She rushed the gate. I sent her back and forth until she went in calmly, stopped, waited, and came out calmly. Then I released her to the pasture.

Mona was up next. She whinnied a bit, but was much more manageable on the trip to the pen. I mirrored her, too. They need work to get over the separation thing. Eventually, she forgot about Kat, hooked onto me, and we made it to Circling. She became curious. She was very light and responsive. She got the concept of circling. I hung out with her, even squatted to remove pressure.

She tolerates things better. I think she'll be rideable much sooner than Kat.

That was the day.

TRAINING LOG 08.04.09
Title change from Mustang Chronicles to Training Log, since the Mustang is only one of the nine horses (besides my own) that I'm playing with.

Second day in a row. Started with a long-overdue set of trims for my two, coupled with guidance from my NHCP on how to maintain the trims every four weeks (to offset the costs of trimming for the moment). Learned: the White Line isn't white, it's yellowish, and the Water Line, which is the trimming/rolling guideline, IS white. Confusing? Of course. LOL! Learned about false sole growth. Cheerios had quite a bit. It's bizarre! But now I feel more confident that I can maintain their hooves without fear of hurting them.

After a PB&J break, it was time to go to work. I'll say this: the lesson for the day was what happens when Goals precede Principles.

First up: Kat the Paint.

Kat (LBE) was up for threshhold work. She and Mona both have huge ones about leaving each other and the pasture. Mona got over hers, and now she's my best bud. Kat is another story. Kat and Mona both need to be "rideable" soon, as the owner is putting pressure on the barn manager about getting a saddle on them this week.

I played with Kat for two straight hours. Friendly Game only, with the stick and string. It was more about determining which of us was in control of the situation than having a conversation. When she got too RB and I tried to snap her out of it by yo-yoing, she popped up her FQ and reared. (Oh boy! OK, that didn't work...) She was a sweaty mess by the time we finished, but she did eventually settle down and decide that she wasn't going to die if the string touched her back.

Now. If she won't tolerate a delicate little string lightly caressing her back, what do you suppose she'll do with a blanket? Or a saddle? Or, God forbid, a human?

Right. She'll explode. Which means, right now, she is absolutely un-rideable, and will be until she has moved past the Friendly Game threshold. So let me ask you, Mr. Owner—are you willing to take that risk? Because I'm not. (And you shouldn't be, either.)

I was about to call it a day and go play with my long-forgotten horse, but BM called me over to help with another boarder's horse she is tweaking for the boarder. The boarder just bought her. The horse has been ridden a lot before, but spent the last year or so in the pasture. She needed a "tune-up". BM was attempting to longe her in the next pasture, but gave up in frustration. She asked me to see if there was anything I could do. Key goals: respect, listening, not crowding.

Sounds like an LBI to me. This is Laney. She is a BIG solid paint mare. Built like a tank. Needs to shed a few pounds. I strolled in. She was friendly enough. Tested her boundaries. Not bothered by much of anything.

Also not willing to budge out of my space.

My best Phase Four was met with a blink. Not even a flinch. The more energy I threw at her, the more keyed up she got, until her FQ popped up. Second horse today that I sent into a rear! Coincidence?

I played with her a bit and discovered when she gets confused, she either charges into you or shoulders you hard. Since Phase Four wasn't working and I wound up getting out of her way more than vice versa, I had to come up with another tactic. I decided Yo-Yo was the primary interest. But I had to combine methods. Push back on the rope while tapping.

The lightbulb went off.

OK. Wiggle finger, tap tap tap WHACK.

Another lightbulb went off.

Within minutes, she "said" "Oh. OK. When you do that, it means back up. Got it." and she did it, no questions asked.

Disengagement was faulty. She'd bring her FQ to me instead of pivoting the HQ away. It's the shoulder thing. Her Lateral Flexion was not there, either. Tip her nose, here comes the shoulder. Everything meant shoulder to her.

OK. Strategy: brace my fist against her shoulder, and work it like a clutch and gas pedal. Guide the nose to me, push the shoulder away. Guide, push. Guide, push.

There's another lightbulb. Once she got that on her own, I added the butt. VOILA now we're cookin' with fire.

Pretty soon, she was trotting nicely around the circle, stopping and disengaging, etc.

No problems here. Just, she hears flailing as noise and gets confused, then resorts to her old tricks. I communicated clearly, and she was AWESOME. I'd like to ride her next.

FINALLY I got to ride Cheerios. But I almost didn't. He wasn't all that interested in being saddled, and I admit, I made him do it. Because I haven't done much with him since his feet got too long, and after all these not-mine horses, I needed desperately to play with and ride something familiar. Easy. Hop on and go.

Cheerios' "hop on and go" feature was disabled, unfortunately. Even HE popped up into a rear because he was pissy about cantering on the 22! Wow. What is up with me, I thought? But after playing with the untamed crew, I had more tricks up my sleeve, and quickly quelled any nonsense. He settled into his former LBI self, and he felt rideable.

So we rode. It was fine. He was fine. In fact, it was one of our better sessions with Sideways, rein positions, and focus in general.

Later, I thought about it and realized, the whole day, I'd geared around goals:

• get Kat to the rideable point fast, so disable her threshold issues pronto (never mind the consequences)
• fix the other mare so she'd be usable for her owner's first lesson the next day
• ride my own horse, darn it!
  

In each instance, it must've changed my energy, because I tuned out what I was reading and became focused on making it work. I got lucky with Laney, because she's a good old LBI at heart and merely needed clear instruction, but Kat?

Geez. I hope I can undo whatever I might have done.

I'm going to have to be frank with the BM so she can pass it on to the owner: do you want this horse to be barely but somewhat rideable by a deadline (and questionable ever after)? Or do you want this to be a good partner for life? Because I can go either way. I can push thresholds, focus on goals instead of the relationship and principles, and force her to tolerate it and comply (and cross my fingers that her next owner has the savvy to manage the negative consequences it'll create). Or, I can take the time it takes, develop her into a solid citizen, and provide you with a partner you'll be proud of and enjoy SAFELY for the rest of her (and your) life.

Your choice.

If you opt with B, it might take a little longer, it might take a lot longer. But really—is your life and safety worth it? Do you really want to ride a boxcar full of TNT while smoking a lit cigarette?

Tomorrow's mission: no goals. Do what is best for whichever horse needs me most.

PERIOD.

MUSTANG ET AL
Let's see if we can make this quick, cuz I'm starved.

Today, I played with four horses. All had major breakthroughs. All are two years old or under. Details follow after the jump.

And here's the jump.

My mission today: get Mona and Kat over their herd sweetness and thresholds going from pasture to round pen. If I could get one into the round pen calmly, great! If all we did was play halfway there, great. I also wanted to take Magic the opposite way—from the round pen where he's living to the arena/pasture to give him room to stretch his legs and see if he's truly catchable yet. Once he is, he can live with the rest of the herd.

Note: Mona and Kat are pastured together. Everyone else is on the big pasture. Except Magic, who lives in the round pen for now.

Mona was more catchable. Played with her a bit in the pasture. Made sure she was listening. Did the threshold thing. Took the time. Let her graze along the way. Approach, retreat. Kat was more bothered being left behind than Mona was. Made it all the way to the round pen, and in. (Yes Magic was in there. He just drifted over to the opposite side.)

Returned. Switched horses. (Mona took about 45-60 minutes). Kat wasn't so easy. Played catching game with both in pasture as BM was preparing boarder's horse in next paddock. Very interesting playing at Liberty with both Mona and Kat. They knew when I was talking to one and not the other.

Finally Kat hooked on. Haltered, played games. Did not get to thresholds. For her, because she was too "up", I sent her sideways first. Whoo! Got her thinking. Then games. Huh. Fuzzy now. Oh. Food aggression. BM put Mona in adjacent paddock after lesson was finished. Then she fed their hay and grain. Worked on having Kat listen to me as leader instead of diving for food. Went pretty well, actually. She has a tendency to rear when asked to back. Is that LBE? Must look that up.

That was another hour done.

Next up: Magic the Mustang. He's easy to catch now. Did not do pasture because of feeding time. Will do tomorrow. Reinforced Seven Games in round pen. He is ONE SMART COOKIE and a fast learner. Had a little bit of a blowup when he got confused when I increased pressure, but it was over and done with and forgotten quickly.

One more hour down.

Collected Aries from the big pasture. Games along the way in. He's more like Cheerios—LBI. Had to get ahold of him, disengage firmly to get his attention. After that, he listened. He needs to learn to maintain responsibility for circling and not stop behind me. Saddled, rode for about 15 minutes, just walk trot. Has NO lateral flexion on right side—stiff as a board. Worked on that. Worked on Direct/Indirect Rein. He is very good at lifting into the trot off of energy, and he follows focus pretty well. A little confused about bend to a stop. But he stood still for mounting this time.

All in all, a great session. Five hours—4:00 PM to 9:20 PM—of just horse play. Sigh. I really COULD do this for a living.

According to Pat, on the SC DVD Sept 06, Colt Starting is just Level One with Excellence. Whew! That means I should be able to do this.

MORE THAN MUSTANGS
The Law of Attraction works.

I'd played with the Mustang twice. It got me thinking, "I cannot wait until I finally pass L3, get through the Parelli Professional Program, and get certification as a licensed PNH Instructor so I can start developing horses!"

Yes, my dream was coming true. When I was six years old, I told my mother, "when I grow up, I'm living on a big farm, and I'm raising and training HORSES!!!" Her first question was, "How are you going to do that? You don't know anything about training horses. You'd have to grow up on a farm to learn that, and we don't live on a farm."

True. And it stumped me for years. Until I found Parelli, and found the program that is indeed teaching me how to "train" a horse (even if this is "self-mastery disguised as horsemanship" and not a horse-training method). Once I found PNH, I knew I could indeed become a horse trainer. Only better.

SOMEDAY. After passing all the home-study courses, of course, and being granted the stamp of approval from the PNH organization that says, "Yes. You qualify. You're licensed. Go forth and train/teach/develop."

The other day, it occurred to me that I might be inadvertently postponing my dream—because of the language of my thought pattern. I kept thinking, "Someday... off in the future... when the stars align... and I'm officially a horse trainer..."

SOMEDAY.

As in, "far off in the future".

Well, what's wrong with that, you ask?

Keep reading and I'll explain.

The future never arrives. That's the problem. It continues to exist out there, somewhere, far far away in the distance.

We only have NOW.

So if my thoughts were focusing on someday far away... then... my dream would CONTINUE to be someday far away. Meaning, it would never begin to occur NOW. Today.

Hmm. How interesting!

I thought about it for a long time, and decided to revise my thought. I decided last week, darn it, there are lots of PNH students out there who were already training horses and giving riding lessons before they found Parelli—they didn't stop what they were doing just because they were in the levels. They kept doing it, but adapted their training/teaching styles to align with their newfound philosophies.

True, I came into horse development through Parelli with no prior knowledge... but... pre-Parelli knowledge of horses isn't necessarily "right", or the best way to do things. Just because someone was doing it before doesn't mean they did it right. Which is worse—doing it "wrong" for a really long time; or being new and learning as you go?

I don't know if that makes much sense. But I couldn't come up with a GOOD reason why I couldn't start developing horses NOW. Most horses out there aren't bad, or dangerous or extreme challenges—they're just misunderstood by their owners and haven't had the right kind of instruction yet. Anyone who watches Savvy Club DVDs knows the range of difficulty amongst student-owned horses is very wide. Yet, somehow, they manage to handle them and pass the Levels with them.

I decided that day that from that moment forward, I am already a horse developer. I'm on the path to becoming a PNH Instructor, but I'm developing horses and teaching riding lessons NOW.

The next day, I was out at the barn to help the BM with the Mustang, as it was his first trim appointment. I wanted to be there to show him support and help in case he got nervous about it. (The farrier wound up postponing due to having been misinformed by a new client about the real number of horses he would be trimming and got stuck at the barn.) While we were still waiting for him, the BM asked if I'd be interested in helping her out with another horse on the property. She explained that there is an Arabian mare, a two-year-old, who has no ground manners, and is extremely "herd sweet" for her buddy (also there for training), to the point where leading her to the round pen (which is out of sight of the paddock where the buddy is) becomes a terrifying nightmare.

In other words, she's a little hard to handle. And she's BIG. Already.

I said, "Sure..."

BM said to all of us to move out of the way and stay very quiet until she got the mare in the round pen.

I'm thinking, "OK. RBE?"

You betcha.

I was a little nervous about it. But... I just followed my instincts, and before long, she was much calmer. Not calm, not completely LB, but manageable. She was trying very hard to listen to me, and she was trying to stay off adrenaline. She'd go in and out a lot. She'd be OK, then realize she couldn't see her buddy and go RB. (Didn't help that a storm was brewing on the horizon.) I played with her until I got her as calm as I could and was able to communicate with her—then I led her back to the pasture, perfect timing before the storm hit.

She did remarkably well on the way back. She walked beside me and was about as LB as she'd managed to be all day. You can bet one of the first things I taught her was how to back out of my space (Funky chicken) so I wouldn't get run over if she flipped and shot forward as I led her. Good instinct. It came in handy—but she responded instantly and respectfully.

She was calm at turnout, too. Left it on a good note.

My initial instinct after watching her caromb around the round pen was, maybe I should put her on the 22 and play in the paddock with her buddy or the one next to it. (It probably would have gone BETTER had I done that. But it went all right.)

When I later watched one of the SC DVDs where Linda coaches a girl with her RBE horse over the log, Linda said "always play with RBEs in a place they feel safe because of their thresholds". Yup. My instinct HAD been correct. Next time...

The Arab and I had an audience during our session. A lady and her grandkids bought one of the other two-year-olds (Dakota) and it's their first horse. They were watching the progress. I commend them from having the presence of mind to sit about 20 feet away from the pen. Close enough to see, not so close as to put pressure on. Well, when we were done, the lady came up and told me how impressed she was, "nicely done". I was surprised. It was really cool to have demonstrated that this works with any horse. She admitted she wouldn't know what to do in that situation and it was wonderful to watch.

I said, "Well, I learned it all from the Parelli program—and you can learn to do this, too."

She was surprised by that. I hope we have a new convert.

Hee hee hee. Drink the Kool-Aid. Go on. (just kidding)

The BM was impressed, too, I think. Maybe. Doesn't matter if she was or not. What matters is that she said "I have another horse that needs help if you're interested". So... after watching a riding lesson, getting rained on, and finding out the farrier wasn't coming until next week, I collected another two-year-old, played the games with him, then rode him for a few minutes.

Yes. I know. He's two. I personally feel the first ride should wait until they are four, and if it were my horse, I would have waited. But the BM is preparing them to be sold, and unfortunately, that's how it is. So, the best thing I can do is to put my personal feelings at the door, and do my best to make his first rides pleasant.

Oh, don't worry. I didn't get on a never-ridden horse. He'd been ridden about 10 times already, so he had some idea of what saddling and mounting was all about. And maybe the other person who rode him just got on really quickly and went with it. Me, I did it Parelli-style. Colt-start style. SLOWWWWWWWLLLLLY. Testing every step before I did it to make sure he was really OK with it. Making sure he was OK with me above him in Zone 3, that the movement of my leg didn't bug him, that the stirrup was OK, that he was OK with weight in it, etc. Making sure brakes worked, that he understood lateral flexion. Laying across him first in case I had to get off quickly. (I did, a couple times.)

Finally, I got my leg over and he stood still. Somewhere between LB and RB. That's fine. I got on and off a couple times, then we rode a bit.

OMG. I'd forgotten what it was like. When I first got Cheerios, he was four, and basically green broke. He had no idea how to balance my weight, and riding him was like riding a listing ship. And he tipped forward.

Well. Same here with Aries. The saddle felt like it was sitting on his shoulders (and I am the one who put it on so I know it was in the right spot—shims, anyone?). He listed and wobbled around like a drunk for a bit before he got situated (he's a pretty big boy, BTW). I wasn't on very long—just long enough to walk him around a little, trot a little, stop, do Direct/Indirect Rein (which he caught onto REALLY fast), Lateral Flexion—I even got him to go Sideways! ALREADY! Just a few steps. But it was SOLID.

Wow.

Either my 12-year-old is a lot duller than I thought, or... I'm a lot better at this than he lets me know I am. (No, this is not ego talking. It's a sort of realization that maybe I don't suck.) Because it sure seems a lot easier to get every horse BUT mine to do stuff that I have difficulty getting my horse to do.

So today. I get an email from BM. She has a plan, if I'm interested. She has a list of the horses that need some work, and she'll trade board for training. Meaning, I train, I get a lower rate.

I said, "SURE!!!!"

When I got to the barn, she handed me the list of horses needing work.

Basically, all of them. Except mine. LOL!

The overall plan is to bring them all through L1 Online first, then move into L2 Online while delving into L1/L2 Freestyle. The bulk of these are two-year-olds needing their first ride. In other words, I am Colt Starting. Like eight horses. (I only brought five Horsenality™ charts!!!) I'm to take my time, do it the way I'd do it, (except for the waiting until four to ride part) and get them all saddle broke by winter.

ME.

Which means...

I AM A HORSE TRAINER (DEVELOPER).

RIGHT NOW.

There was a great session with the Arab's buddy Cat (the Arab is Mona). Cat is a gorgeous Paint mare and she is also BIG already. As big as Cheerios. And she is only two. I separated her from Mona but they were in adjoining paddocks so they could see one another. Less hassle.

Mona lost interest and went off to try to dominate the rest of the herd over the other fence. I basically played Catching Game in the pasture/paddock/arena. Some would say, why in such a large area? Because it was either go through another Mona experience and have the horse all RB in the round pen, or sacrifice close quarters for a horse I might be able to communicate with. She caught me, eventually. That was the majority of the session, from 6:30 to almost 9:00. I observed her to be very athletic (jumps barrels at liberty by choice), curious (walked up to where the 12-foot was laying on the ground, picked it up, chewed on it, tried to swallow it, dragged it along for about 20 feet before dropping it), and not really RB. But very Extroverted. She wasn't so much panicking as she just didn't want to be with me yet. And she moves.

So here are my initial diagnoses:
Cat=LBE
Mona=RBE but when confident, becomes aggressively LB
Magic (Mustang)=LBI innately; mild RBE when uncertain (he drifts away rather than blasting away, but always returns)
Aries (the one I rode)=LBI so far (BM says he changes day to day, unpredictable, so he might be RBI or it might depend on the circumstances)

The other four I haven't begun to sort out yet. Except from casual observation:
Dakota=LBI like Cheerios (reminds me of him)
Phoenix=RBI
Apollo=LBI (he's older)
Laney=LBE with aggressive dominance (she's brand new, just met her, and she tried to shove me over)

I realize this is A LOT to be doing at this stage of the game (yeah, play with one horse or two if you must until you've passed L3—nobody said anything about playing with NINE), but there's something else I've noticed.

Despite the admonition to take one horse through L3 before playing with others, it seems that the people who become really good really fast and fly through the levels are NOT the ones playing with just one horse. It's the ones who were already training and giving lessons BEFORE finding Parelli, who have had exposure to multiple horses and Horsenalities.

I have already had major breakthroughs just this past week. My patience has deepened. My sensitivity to the horse's needs and mindset has improved dramatically. My focus, feel and timing are picking up pace. I'm getting better at managing my energy, because I have to adjust it depending on the horse I'm with at the time.

I actually think that this is a blessing, and it is accelerating my progress through the Levels already. It's filling in the gaps that Cheerios isn't able to fill. I think that playing with eight other horses and bringing them through L1 and into L2 before delving into the L2 Freestyle Audition or L3 Online with Cheerios is going to cause us to blast into outer space and progress at unheard-of speed. It's not going to delay our progress (because I'm focusing on other horses than my own)—it's going to speed it up.

And if I am going to do this for a living, I'd best get used to adapting to different horses now, rather than waiting until I'm in the 1-Star program.

I still can't quite believe it. :-) And I really wish my Dad was alive, so I could run into the house yelling "Dad! Dad! Guess what?!?" and share with him all the wonderful experiences I'm having.

Mustang Chronicles, Day Two

Hooked On
This is what I noticed when the barn manager's hubby approached Mustang and proceeded to pick up all four feet from one side, tapping them to prep him for his first farrier visit this week:

Mustang goes RBI when humans approach. He's being misread as "calm" and "obedient" and I hope he will be, but I saw the shift in stance and thought, HMMMMmmmm.

But he's more RBE when he's on his own. Mildly RBE. He's not a spookaholic, but like on the last Savvy Club DVD, he is liable to drift away when pressure is applied.

I went back and watched that DVD again, to spot the Horseanality. I also watched the National Geographic Mustang special (from PNH, Pat gentling a wild herd to their blood could be collected for DNA typing) and some of L3. But that was last night.

At this point, I still wasn't completely sure whether Mustang is LBE or RBE. He's quiet. But that doesn't mean he's NOT RB.

Still, I apparently did the right thing last time. I learned one new thing from my watchings, though. No eyes, pressure. Two eyes, no pressure. That I knew. But I'd missed one eye, a little pressure.

AH.

So when he was trotting around me with one eye on me, I shouldn't have just stood there. I should have been lightly tapping my leg. It's a gradiated scale.

Got it.

All in all, we had a nice session. He's less wary, more accepting. I haltered him, introduced him to the carrot stick and the lead rope. No biggie. He has learned to face me and does very well with that. But when he's unsure, he drifts away. (I prefer that to buck n snort.) Then he comes right back.

He's very light and responsive. I realize this could be escape, too, so I'm working on making sure he understands when I'm asking. He understood me on the first three games. He didn't understand—or didn't want to—yo-yo. Backing up didn't come easily. I tried driving him back—he turned and drifted off.

It took a combination of driving and porcupine to clear it up. Lots of licking and chewing.

He disengages well.

He crosses in front nicely when he moves his FQ away.

He learned to lower his head.

I mean, from my request. He already knows how.

I turned him loose and played at Liberty with him. Same thing—disengage, disengage, approach retreat... until finally, OMG. He hooked on and followed me. He trailed behind me about two feet in Stick To Me. When he drifted, all it took was a look at his HQ and he hooked on.

Cannot describe the feeling.

I brought him to center and rubbed him all over, then I crouched. I didn't squat because of my knees—wanted to make sure I could get up in a hurry! But he seemed OK, so I sat.

That did it.

He lowered his head and looked at me like he'd never had a human do that before. I just waited. He crept over to me really slowly until he was within reach. Then he just sniffed at me curiously.

WOWWWWWWWWWWWW.

After a bit of that, I slowly got up, stroked him again, then left.

Then I went to see Cheerios.

When I went past the round corral on my way back in, Mustang saw me, and walked TOWARD me, meeting me at the panel.

I extended my hand. He extended his nose. He greeted me and stood there.

Tears filled my eyes.

This is amazing.

The Mustang Chronicles, Day One
I have a new project. It happened very fast, and it's amazing.

I'm playing with a Mustang yearling (in addition to finishing up Level Two with Cheerios)!

My barn manager found a Mustang nearby that was up for adoption. Fresh from the range, BLM, Nevada, only in civilization since January. He's a yearling. The barn manager said he was black—he's really a dark brown with almost bay markings. He has a small star on his forehead and a snip on his muzzle:



Photo taken while he was living at the Foster Home. He can be haltered and lead, and is gentle enough that a child can pet him—but he's still a wild animal.

And he is perfection in motion. It's unusual to see what a horse should look like—we have bred a lot into and out of our domestic horses. This one looks like what God intended—pure, unmessed with, bred to be the survivor. His legs are straight and beautiful. His hooves—wow. His conformation is pristine.

He arrived three days ago from this writing. He's been gentled enough that he is calm around people, and accepts confinement. But he's still "wild" in the sense that he is Horse and we are Predators and he doesn't realize he lives in our world yet.

On hay loading day, we'd been talking about the horse, and I'd mentioned how I'd always wanted to train a wild one. Someday... in that far off sense of the word. Someday, when I'm solvent again, when I have my own farm, when I'm official Level Three.

Yesterday, a friend from back in high school days came out to photograph horses. This is a photo he took of Cheerios' blue eye. Isn't it amazing? WOW!



After he left, I went in to chat with my barn manager about life for a bit before playing with Cheerios. I asked how she was getting along with the Mustang (no name yet) and what she had planned for him.

She said she hadn't done much with him yet, and probably wouldn't be able to train him until spring because she is training a bunch of other horses and giving lessons (and working full-time and raising a small child). I thought to myself, he might be a lot to handle by then if nobody is doing anything with him, and wished I could train him. But, of course, that's someday. I'm only just L2 Online. And it's not my horse.

The next moment, she looked at me and said, "You can train him if you'd like to."

Wait—WHAT?!? I'm hearing things.

I said in disbelief, "Really?"

She said, "Yeah. It would really help me out. And I know you aren't going to ruin him. I trust you with him."

Let me gather my jaw from the floor.

She asked that I keep her updated with status reports, and said the farrier is due out in two weeks for his first appointment and he hasn't had his feet handled.

Um... well, Pat says it never takes more than two days, so...

I accepted the challenge.

I played with Cheerios a bit first, to warm up. It went well. Rode a little. Carrot stick riding went well. I think knowing I'm L2 Online and L3 is in sight elevated my self-esteem and helped me relax.

I turned Cheerios out and went to the round pen where the Mustang lives. All I took in with me was a mounting block to sit on and my 22' line in case I needed it.

I started out by sitting on the mounting block to play the Quiet Time game. But I soon realized, this is not a domestic horse. This is a wild creature. I could be here for a week and he'd stay on the opposite end of the pen, grazing and watching me with one wary eye.

Time to change tactics.

I stood up, 22' coiled in hand, and moseyed toward him to see what he'd do. The entire time I was with him, I kept my energy low, my movements fluid and deliberate, and used as little as possible to see how much it would take to get a response from him. I moseyed. I stayed casual and neutral.

In other words, I was different with him than I am with Cheerios. I know Cheerios knows me. I don't worry about "messing him up". But with this one... he's... pristine. My challenge is to be very careful with how I go about this. Because I realized early on that this little wild horse embodies the spirit of Horse Itself, and he has a vibrant, "alive" energy that I want him to maintain for the rest of his life. It's more than try. It's an untouched spirit, undamaged by humans, simply unmessed with.

It's important to preserve that.

It didn't take much to get a response from him. He wasn't bothered by anything I did—he just decided to move away from me. I touched his bubble, and he left. No big deal. He just... turned matter-of-factly and left in the other direction. I tossed the rope coils at Zone 4-5 (holding the metal end) and he trotted around the perimeter.

I observed.

It became apparent that 1) he wasn't afraid of me, just wary; 2) he was totally thinking the entire time; 3) he would be quite happy trotting nicely around the pen for the rest of the day as long as it kept distance between us.

First impression? LBE.

(The barn manager said he seems curious about things that would scare most horses, like when the kids were kicking a ball around and it shot into his pen. He went up and sniffed it, rather than spooking away from it.)

OK. Obviously circling won't help. Change tactics. Have him change direction. All I did was walk a couple of steps toward where he was headed, slowly raise my arm, and he neatly changed directions. (Hello, Level Three? Can I use this horse for Liberty?)

Did that for a bit, and every time he changed direction, I took one step closer to him. I didn't encroach too closely—not wanting him to feel trapped. When he stopped, I stopped and relaxed. All pressure off. Since I was purposely keeping my energy low, this wasn't hard. To get him to move, I merely needed to raise my energy slightly—that's how attuned he was to me.

It was SO COOL.

I figured out fast where the edge of his tolerance bubble was—he stopped, and put his head up over the pen, looking for a way out. I backed up one step and he relaxed.

His attitude was so fascinating. All I keep thinking is how matter-of-fact it was, how aware and attuned he was to the slightest thing, but how quietly he responded. No silly RB panic. He seemed to say, "Oh, OK. So you're doing that, I'll do this. OK. You changed. Now I'll do this. OK. That isn't working, I'll do this." He wasn't getting frustrated, nor was I. We were simply trying to establish a conversation.

(Which is how I should be with EVERY horse, right? Just because Cheerios is "tame" doesn't mean he should be treated differently. Oh, what I've learned already; how much I take for granted.)

I didn't need to throw the rope constantly, either. It was body-to-body dance.

In the middle of all this, I remembered the latest Savvy Club DVD, where Pat plays with four horseanalities. He pointed out that everything means something and nothing means nothing, and how just swapping the rope from one hand to the other matters to the horse. I noticed I was holding the rope coiled in the hand closest to the Mustang, and switched hands. Then I became mindful of which hand was closest and adjusted accordingly.

It made a difference.

He kept trotting, but he slowed down and relaxed more.

He'd get to the point where he would stop trotting and stand still. Then he'd look at me. I'd turn away. He'd stand still a minute... and trot off again. But he'd go around once, then circle closer and feel like he was thinking of coming to me (politely, even), then at the last minute he'd veer away. Without changing his rhythm, gait, or attitude.

We repeated the change of direction exercise several times until finally, he stopped and turned a quarter-turn toward me.

Whoa. I tried to see if he'd Stick To Me, but he wouldn't. When I got three steps away, he'd trot off again.

When we stopped and he faced again, he wouldn't come in. He maintained the distance between us. If I stepped forward, he stepped back and vice versa.

OK. After a few rounds of that, time for a new tactic. He'd been doing a bit of blowing, licking, chewing and his head had dropped, so I knew I was getting through. Let's try... disengaging the HQ.

Interesting. He senses it, I see the HQ muscles twitch, but he doesn't disengage right away. He turns his head to me, though. So it's a dance. I dip, he turns, I take off pressure, he looks away, I stand up. Repeat. Then trot off again.

I did notice the hind leg closest to me was cocked. NOw if it were Cheerios, I'd likely think he was relaxed. But... with this one, it could mean that—or it could mean, Hmm. I might need to kick. So I'll cock my leg in preparation. I cautioned myself on that. :-)

I decided to just mirror him and see what he'd do. When he left, I left. I stayed parallel to him and walked when he walked, trotted when he trotted, turned when he turned. THIS was fascinating, too. I had to stay right in tune with him. It got to where my brain totally shut off and I was just in the moment, dancing with the horse. There was no thinking. Not on my part anyway. I was now simply responding.

Eventually, the mirroring got through to him. He not only stopped, but he faced up. We stood there a LONG time, with the Mustang standing there neatly, ears forward, pleasant expression, looking at me.

You'd think, OK, now turn away, take off pressure, he'll stick.

Nope. Finally, I realized, just stand there. Don't move. Just hang out. Let him look. Have the agreement that we both know we're here, but we're cool with it.

He relaxed.

I waited.

It seemed like the right time to try to connect.

So I slowly—not sneakily, but gently and gradually lifted my hand and extended it to him to sniff.

The first time, nothing. I retreated. I waited. He waited.

The second time, I took one step closer. He stayed put. I repeated. Step. Wait. Step. Wait. I was close enough that he could reach out if he wanted to. So I waited.

And waited. Every now and then, retreat, approach.

And then it happened.

His little nose reached over cautiously and sniffed my hand.

When he retreated, so did I.

Now. I probably should have walked away and called it a day at that point. But I had that goal thing—touch him.

We repeated the greeting a couple times. He was more relaxed about me. The last time, I greeted, then casually reached up to stroke his forehead. Not realizing until I had my hand on his forehead that duh, I'm supposed to go to the withers first. Well, 50-50 chance, right? He wasn't too bothered by it. His head went up about a half inch, but he accepted my hand. I retreated and tried again, this time going toward his withers as he eyed me a bit warily like "Um, where do you think you're going with that?"

But he didn't move.

It occurred to me that I might be dealing with an RBI now. LBE when the human is a safe distance away; RBI when the predator is too close. I listened to his breathing. It was a little shallow. But he wasn't all hard and stary, just wary. He seemed a tad tense. So I went easy. I stroked the front part of him. When I sensed a "yeah but" I retreated.

I was probably stomping all over his thresholds, I realize now, but he behaved admirably.

When I returned to pet his head, he left. Again. Quietly, no big to-do. He just ambled off.

Well, that's not a good note. I repeated the whole process to get him to face up, which happened very quickly, then avoided his face, stroked his withers briefly, then walked away. He stood still and watched me go.

All right. Much better. He didn't leave until I opened the gate.

Yes, he is completely different from a domestic horse. Playing with him yesterday, I realized he is going to teach me everything I'll ever need to know about feel and timing and harmonizing with a horse, because he is so AWARE. He is alive and attuned and present in every single moment. He takes nothing for granted.

He has much to teach me.

It also made me realize how much we humans have dulled out even the most sensitive domestic horses. We have horses that are so bored with us that they don't even react. A bulldozer could drive over them and they'd barely look up from the grass. The spooky ones got that way because humans built it into them. We go "BOO!" and send them up over the round pen gates, out of their minds to get away from the human torturers who cause them so much panic.

But this wild one, he's special. He's Spirit Embodied. I am blessed with such a gift to be able to play with him.

And the weirdest thing I noticed. You know how all horses smell unique? Cheerios and Shaveya don't smell the same, nor do they smell like other horses I've been around.

When I got close enough to Mustang to touch and smell him, I realized he smelled familiar.

He smells like Wildflower.

LEVEL TWO ONLINE PASS!!!
WHOO-HOO!!! I just got confirmation via email that I've passed Level Two Online.

Only one more savvy to go (FreeStyle), and that BLUE STRING is MINE!!!

*happy dancing all over the place, can't wait to tell my horse*

SAVVY UPDATE, 07.08.09
Let's get back to using this as my Log Book, shall we? That was my original intention for this blog. Whenever you see "Savvy Update, 00.00.00", it's savvy session notes.

This is actually for yesterday. I went out in the evening after watching the Michael Jackson Memorial on TV (not a huge fan, but, I just had to, ya know? Like with Princess Di or President Reagan. It's a requirement.)

My goal was to continue working on straightening out Cheerios' feet after reading up in my Jaime Jackson book.

I collected him from the pasture and we set to it. Hmm. My energy level wasn't as high as it was Saturday. I managed to balance his left front a bit more than it had been, but then I was sweating and feeling it from leaning over. It's HARD WORK rasping and trimming. Please—appreciate your farrier. They make it look easy.

His front feet looked more normal and he was no longer turning his left foot outward, so I figured I'd done the trick. I saddled him up. Yup. Before playing. He was calm and relaxed. I figured, saddle then play then ride. He just "felt" OK to do that, so I did.

We went out to the arena and ran through the games a bit on the 12' then the 22'. He was listening well, responding to very little. Good. Played a bit with Touch It (nose) with the big orange cone. He likes to stand on everything and touch with feet rather than his nose. Had a tender moment where he just stood there with his nose on my midsection, blowing on me while I petted him. I felt really connected to him for the first time in ages.

He was pretty much in tune, so I lead him to the fence to practice mounting from there. Didn't need much practice—I clambored on up, and he moved into position like he's been doing it for years.

Huh.

Now, WHY didn't he do that when we were taping?

(Because we were TAPING, right? LOL!)

I mounted, checked the brakes, and off we went. Carrot stick riding. Went really well. Dropped the reins, trotted and cantered a little without "holding on". Took my feet out of the stirrups and just sat there reveling in the moment for a bit. It was a gorgeous day. I had no real plan, just get out there and ride for a change. So we did. I left my feet out of the stirrups and did a bit more trotting and cantering that way—close to being bareback, nothing to brace against—but then my little fear rose up so I had to stop. (It was just a small bit of fear.)

Did some Figure 8s around the cones—first at a walk, so I could rehearse the focus and position, then at the trot, loose rein. Went pretty well.

Sideways was brilliant.

We bopped around the arena a bit more, cantered beautifully to the gate, and he sidled up to it for me to open it on a thought. Opened, rode through, shut it. Dismount, untack. Pet him a lot in the barn. Then... I played with his mouth, and he licked me, so I tried for the tongue.

He let me hold his tongue.

I figured out that if I feed a little grain from my hand after he lets me hold it, he's more inclined to dangle his tongue out the side of his mouth.

Return to pasture.

I've noticed that when I am relaxed, and even if I have goals, I remain relaxed and just do stuff in a slow but relaxed manner, it goes better. It's when I get tense and feel "on a schedule" that stuff goes badly. I don't hurry up and saddle, I just do it with intent but with relaxation. Not hesitantly, not hurried. When my entire attitude is neither hesitant nor hurried, just "so", we have a great time. Especially when I pause and take time to appreciate just being with him in between.

I guess that is the definition of "take the time it takes, so it takes less time".

TRIMMIN'
In the interest of saving moolah, I'm performing my own hoof maintenance for now. You may recall back in '06 I was on the path to becoming an AANHCP trimmer but got derailed because of the parental illnesses. I'd already invested in the equipment and two clinics plus reading material. I know enough, and I had a bit of hands-on practice with a bit of professional guidance before being turned loose to do maintenance on my own beasts.

But I'm nowhere near an expert. However, this weekend...

I took a stab at it. I've been a naughty horse owner because I lost track of time and didn't have the trimmer out recently. When I went out Saturday, I discovered that while Shaveya's hooves are longer than they should be, they look all right; but Cheerios' looked bad. I mean BAD. Bigtime flare on the fronts, and the persistent quarter crack he's always had on his right front was worse. (It looks like he blew an abcess on the right hind about two months ago, too.)

I'd brought my trimming tools on instinct. Good thing. I collected him and for my own sake, put him in cross-ties. He was a good boy. I managed to get the flare knocked off and trimmed him down a little. I still have a ways to go to get him to the right length, but it's a MAJOR improvement. He was eternally patient with me. I went slow to avoid cutting anything I shouldn't, so it took longer. Just the fronts, though. I couldn't do the rear hooves after all the bending and squatting. But the rear hooves look OK (albeit too long).

Since I'm recuperating from my end of putting up nearly 300 bales of hay yesterday (helping the barn manager, working off board), I'm holding off on further trimming until tomorrow at the earliest. Gotta read my Jaime Jackson and Pete Ramey books a bit first, and remind myself how this is done.

Maybe I will do this after all. Maybe I should start out with the hoof trimming, make money while I study into L3, THEN apply to the Parelli Pro Program.

You know what? For all the pain I'm in today after the intense labor (I'm out of shape, am I?), I must say I really love farm work. I love doing it. It's good honest work and the rewards are solid. The pace of the farm works for me, too. You do it when it's time to do it, and that's that. I love seeing the horses' expressions as they watch us loading hay.

Speaking of, it's time for dinner.

LIFE IN THE WAY
Sometimes, life just interrupts itself. After a very hectic spring preparing for then taping the Online portion of my L2 Assessment, life interrupted my horsemanship efforts. Oh, it wasn't anything major; just... stuff.

I mean, there was the sudden death of my old riding buddy. But then June flew by without so much as a visit to the barn. We had a spate of freakishly hot weather, followed by a new spate of unseasonably cool weather. It's July, but it feels like October.

I've been wrestling with my goals again. The eternal struggle for me has been horses versus music: which is the right career path for me?

Much of it has to do with age. I realize that mid-40s is young nowadays, but it still feels like the window for rock superstardom (only half kidding there) is about to close, at least for those trying to resume dormant careers like I would be. Though I'm a good age for Parelli Instructorship—just about right, matter of fact.

But the news release regarding the program changes was long to arrive.

So, I applied to graduate school. Out of state. To a music-related program that is only offered in that one state. I have no idea if I'll be accepted, or if I'll have the funds to attend if I am. But it seemed like the perfect compromise between prudence and passion, so I went for it.

Then, the revisions to the Professionals Program emerged—and for the first time ever, it looks POSSIBLE for me. It used to be that to achieve 3-Star (full instructor status, able to hold 12-person clinics) was a long, expensive process: after passing L3, the student would do 14 weeks of study (four week boot camp plus 10 weeks of training), become 1-Star; teach 1-2 students at a time for a year (no pay); then do another 10 weeks, become 2-Star, teach up to 6 at a time for a year (with pay); then do another 10 weeks to become 3-Star. The cost was prohibitive, and it was a three-year plan, with the first being without pay.

I've heard legends of instructors who sold their homes and all of their possessions to be able to afford it.

That terrified me.

Now, there are two options: one week of study to become a 1-Star, followed by the option to do a second week a year later to become a 2-Star (for a total of $15,000); or, the 12-week Extern program for $12,000 that grants 1-Star status automatically, 2-Star if the student graduates with honors and if not, the student can come back in a year, do the week-long course to become 2-star and it's already included in the tuition.

The other change is that 1-Stars can teach all three levels—four if the instructor is Official L4—but the caveat is that 1-Stars can only teach Online. 2-Stars can also teach FreeStyle. To be able to teach Liberty and Finesse requires 3-Star status. To achieve 3-Star, the student completes the Mastery program. The details of that have yet to be released.

It seems do-able now. Twelve weeks (once I pass L3), and I could be teaching Online skills to students. Maybe Online and FreeStyle. For pay. I could be an EMPLOYED PNH Instructor.

Or, for the same cost but three years of study, I could have an MFA. In music technology. And be able to work in the music industry, or teach.

So what's the question? Why is there a debate?

When I was very small, my Mother asked what I wanted to be when I grew up.

I stated quite boldly, "I'm going to live on a farm, and raise and train horses."

My Mother snorted in disbelief (or amusement—or both). "How are you going to do that? You haven't grown up on a farm around horses—how will you know how to train them?"

I had no answer at the time. (I now know the answer was, "through Parelli, that's how!")

She continued: "And what are you going to do for a job? Because horses are expensive, and you'll have to have a really good job to make enough money to have a horse."

Well, I couldn't answer that, either, and my dad, a college professor with a PhD, didn't make enough that we could afford ONE horse (or so they said whenever I asked, "we can't afford a horse"), so they must be goshawfully expensive, and I want to breed them, which means I'll need at least two, so... good grief, I'm going to have to be a millionaire to be able to pursue my dream.

Ah, the logic of a six-year-old.

So I looked around to see what people did for a living, and it occurred to me that entertainers, especially the ones on TV, seemed to make a LOT of money. But they spent it on silly stuff like furs, cars and jewelry. I knew I could sing, and play guitar, so I thought, "if I become a TV star, or a musician, and I save my money instead of spending it on junk, I should be able to make enough to retire in 5-10 years, then I can do my horse thing."

So, I decided then and there to become a rich and famous rock star, and retire at 40 to live on my farm and raise and train horses.

The rich, famous and star part didn't work out, though the rock musician thing carried me through my 20s and most of my 30s. And I did become a horse owner right on schedule, along with discovering Parelli.

The truth is, my dream of rock superstardom ONLY originated because I thought it would finance my REAL dream. I just got too caught up in the musical lifestyle and forgot about the horses for awhile. But the belief that music is my ticket to horse dreams is still dominant.

Either that belief needs to go so I can go after the REAL dream (including PNH Instructor training); or I need to really make it in music this time.

I think I'll go to the barn tomorrow. And maybe win the lottery. Then I can ride without the guilt shadow hovering over me (since I'm behind on board due to no job yet, hardly any savings left, and no interviews recently). Wish me luck.

Jenny Update
The newspaper finally posted service information for my friend Jenny. I've also found out some information about her passing.

The initial report is that Jenny knew she was dying. She wasn't on her way to the barn; she was on her way to the hospital. Ever stubborn, driving herself to help because she thought she was having a heart attack. The autopsy results aren't back yet, but they seem to believe that the cause of death may have been massive heart failure rather than from the crash.

In a way, I find that comforting, knowing she may have been spared the horrific part at the end. I also find it sad, to think that she had an idea this was "it". I'm not sure which is better—knowing it's coming, or not.

In about an hour, I'm headed to the visitation. It will be a gathering of old friends from the barn as well as her bereaved family. I never know what to expect at these things; but I'm an old pro now after my parents' services.

If you have a minute, spare a good thought for Jenny's family, and for her mare.

Good news coming in the days ahead, I promise.

RIDERLESS HORSE
I now know a riderless horse. Her name is Redbird. She's a beautiful chestnut QH mare, said to be Foundation. She's probably in her mid-20s by now. Because of her, I regained my pre-Parelli confidence after the fall from Cheerios that first year. Because of her owner, Jenny, I held onto my dream in the face of fear.

And as of 4:00 PM Sunday, May 3rd, Redbird is a Riderless horse.

Because Jenny was killed in a terrible car crash yesterday. It was a horrendous event. According to the news report, she hit a mailbox, a ditch, a pole, a tree, then rolled and landed overturned. It was instantaneous.

Jenny was 47 years old. Our birthdays were a few days apart. She was the first person who gravitated towards me when I joined the herd at the old barn. She was one of the first to welcome me into this brand new world of horses.

She was there for my first trail ride.

She was there for the Poker Run, when it rained. We'd tied our horses' reins to the rail after completing the ride so we could eat barbecued hamburgers before heading back. Cheerios got impatient being tied up, and gave a good yank—breaking the new leather and leaving me with the terrifying quandry (for a neophyte rider) of having to steer my horse all the way back home with only one steering device! (Another rider cobbled it together for me and Jenny and he flanked me to ensure my horse wouldn't run off with me. Ah, those pre-Savvy days...)

Jenny was there for the Big Jump, the day Cheerios carried us unexpectedly over the creek with such grace and dexterity that Jenny and the other rider sat there with their jaws to the floor. Jenny said "I wish I'd had a videocamera for that!"

Jenny was there in the days after Cheerios dumped me, encouraging me to get back on the horse as soon as I felt able. She was the one who saddled him up for me and helped me mount up on my first day back after the fall. She was the one who "rescued" us from "certain death" as he escaped at a slow walk to the mare's pasture (where the gate was open).

Jenny was there for me when the fear was so great I couldn't even lead him to the pasture by myself.

Jenny is the one who offered to temporarily trade horses with me that summer, so I could regain my confidence riding her good old mare while she "straightened out Cheerios" for me (though I know now it was me who needed straightening out). Jenny is the one who trusted me with her beloved mare enough to let me take her out solo on the trails.

Redbird was her whole life—Jenny worried that Red was getting older; she said she didn't know what she'd do if anything ever happened to Red, that she probably wouldn't be able to live without her. She worried about how she'd deal with it when "the inevitable" happened. Losing Red was probably her worst fear.

Jenny was there when so many things happened at the barn.

But something happened to our friendship when I discovered Parelli. I won't blame it all on that—there were more private issues that Jenny endured and personality conflicts that made friendship between us challenging at times. But it did seem the rift opened when I became a Parelli fanatic. Our horsemanship beliefs diverged at that point; after a time, even trail rides were uncomfortable for both of us.

Though we stopped riding together, we were still on friendly terms, and we often chatted when we met up at the barn. There was an incident with the caustic woman who later attacked me for my method of dealing with Shaveya's lameness—the same woman verbally attacked Jenny one day, right after Jenny's Dad died. I stood up to the woman on Jenny's behalf and intervened to stop the attack. It had been uncalled for—it was about nothing important, and nothing that was any of that woman's business anyway. But the day sticks out in my mind—it was probably the last time we bumped into each other at the barn, because I moved my horses not long after that.

Jenny even cared enough to skip her lunch break to appear at my Dad's funeral to give condolences. She'd met him all those times he'd accompanied me to the barn. It was a surprise—we hadn't been talking, I wasn't even aware she'd know—but she came. It meant a lot to me.

That was the last time I saw her. Almost three years ago. Two years, not quite 11 months, to be precise.

Now, I'm going to her funeral sometime this week (if they have one—hasn't been announced yet).

And the only bright spot I can find about this is that her horse outlived her, thus she never had to realize her worst fear.

Godspeed, Jenny. May you find a swift horse in Heaven and ride free.

ALLOWED TO CHANGE MY MIND
I'm allowed to change my mind. It's been an agonizing decision. But, I've decided that I AM still on the path to PNH Professional. Every time I turn away from it, my heart breaks. It's said that God can make a way where none exists... I'm choosing to have faith that He will help me get there.

That's why those widgets appear to the left of this post section. One is because I need immediate help keeping my horses safe from errant disease; the other is a savings fundraiser aimed toward my Parelli Professional training.

I have been and am still looking for a job, but even when I get one, I'm starting at zero. Saving that much money could be a challenge; someday, I'll be able to sell the house I'm living in, and likely net a good stash of cash, but I'd really rather not. This is my childhood home. It's my last connection to my dead parents. I grew up here. Though I don't imagine dying here, I'm still deeply attached to it and it seems like a heck of a sacrifice to make for a career.

But we'll cross that bridge when and if we get to it. My hope—no, my INTENTION—is that God will find another way to fund my career. So I've set my intention with the Universe and God by launching that Parelli Dreams widget to raise $100,000 by the end of the year. It will all go into an interest-bearing annuity until I'm admitted into the Professionals program.

I haven't decided what to do with it if I didn't get in, because... as they say, don't make a Plan B lest Plan B becomes THE Plan.

You know, God gave me an unmistakable sign back in 2002. And in 2001.

The day I bought Cheerios and brought him home to the barn, the first person I met was a Parelli student.

That night, a group of boarders were having a pizza/movie night in the caretaker's house. I was invited to join them. It was the one and only movie night they ever had in the five years I boarded there. The movie?

One Day With Pat Parelli.

I had no idea who he was; all I knew was, I watched what he and that little blonde gal were doing with their horses, and I said to myself, "that's what I am gonna be doing with my horse this summer", not realizing it wasn't as easy as The Black Stallion beach scene made it look.

But the clincher was 2002. May 24th, to be exact. A couple of weeks earlier, one year to the date of falling off Cheerios, injuring my back and becoming afraid, I'd finally hit Send and purchased the Level One kit (old VHS version). On May 24th, a Friday, right before Memorial Day Weekend, at precisely 4:30 PM, my boss called me into the office to let me know that 20% of the workforce was being laid off due to post-9/11 economic considerations. That was a whopping five people, me being one of them.

I wasn't upset. I qualified for unemployment—I saw it as a paid vacation for a few months while I decided whether or not to continue in my field, and the perfect opportunity to spend the summer like the kid I'd always wished I could have been—playing with my horse all summer long.

I cleaned out my space, finished my work, emailed everyone—it took a while. By the time I arrived home, it was dark. On my front porch I spotted something.

Oh, a FedEx box. Long and skinny. And another one.

It was my Level One kit. According to the label, it had been delivered to my house right around 4:30 PM—at the precise moment my boss was letting me go and freeing me forever from the graphic design world.

Now. You tell ME that wasn't a clear sign. "Here. You're meant to do this PNH thing. I'm clearing your schedule so you can focus on it. You're welcome."

I've had ups and downs, and I didn't grow up with horses which tested my self-confidence and made me doubt I could actually do this. But Neil Pye didn't grow up with them, either, and he became a 5-Star before handling the business end. And Pat didn't, either, though he started earlier than Neil or I did. Still—it's proof that one doesn't have to grow up on hroseback to be able to learn how to "train" horses (the Ultimate Way™) or ride them.

Anybody with the heart and desire, and the commitment to the program, can learn how to do this.

Even me.

L2 Audition Dry Run
Yesterday’s dry run was interesting. Cheerios and I were having an off-day, which shouldn't be surprising after the last session and the super-cool discoveries. I should have realized breakdowns precede and follow breakthroughs. I was tense. I knew that. He knew that. I kind of regressed from where we were last time. I was kind of pissed that we couldn’t “perform”, and worried that I’d never be able to finish my L2 in time to make the free deadline May 1st, and because of “how things are” with my financial life right now, I worried whether I’d ever be able to afford the fees (which haven’t been published or alluded to yet).

And my friend the videographer, whose horse experience is limited to having seen them on TV or petted one once, asked me what the plan was. I said “the thing with horses is, whenever you have a plan, they come up with a different one, so I don’t know”. Ha ha.

Yep. I know.

I should not have said, thought, or even imagined all the things I did, because...



Of course they all came true. Dang, it’s easy to manifest the stuff I don’t want. (How? I think or say it once, then forget about it. Ha ha. I bet if I could do that with “house sale”, and not think about it for a day or three, stuff would budge. Of course.)

Turns out, it’s a good thing it was a dry run, because I need to educate my friend on what to film and how to do it. Had our performance had rocked, I would not have been able to send it in because the footage wasn't usable by Audition standards. The entire horse and human did not appear in all frames.

I think she misinterpreted what I needed. She was shooting footage trying to make it “interesting”. So sometimes it’s close-up on the horse only, or on me (and my Gawd I am large, either I need to be on a diet TODAY or I need to find more fitted clothes up top) or the horse veers off frame then back in, or I’m trying to move a part that isn’t on film... When I watched it at home, I was very frustrated.

But, I realize it’s my fault. I wasn’t clear. I wasn't a good leader for her.

What I need is a continuous shot, from beginning to end, of the 10-minute audition, and at all times every single hair or toenail on both parties must be visible within the frame with a bit of air space around the borders. The camera should remain motionless, and zooming should be limited to only when necessary. At no time should there be a zoom onto one or the other, or should parts of either be excluded.

The reason is, the Parelli Faculty is looking at the relationship and communication between the horse and human, and to do that they must be able to see the entire bodies of both at once, so that they can review who did what to result in the outcome. It doesn’t need to be that close up either, because the Parelli Faculty are so well-trained to read body language that they can spot a one-degree ear swivel on a horse that is 200 yards away. In the dark. (Just kidding on the dark part.)

And as for me, uh... I need to "forget" the camera and camera person is there. I caught myself looking AT them and interacting. Well, that's not the purpose. The purpose is, the camera(wo)man does not exist; they are invisible, and it is a fly-on-the-wall secret look into the relationship with the horse and human. Nobody should be aware that there is a person holding a camcorder. If that makes sense.

I’m going to tell her "good first attempt", then describe what I need in the footage, then point her in the direction of some other audition examples and Parelli vids so she can see what it should look like.

I’m also going out a few times this week in between (I hope) job interviews and applications to play solo and work out a PLAN so I’m not trying to come up with it on the fly, testing things during filming. (Flat out: I was prepared, but unprepared. I had the music ready, batteries charged, fresh tapes, tripod, boombox, and clean clothes... I just didn’t have a plan or any rehearsal before hand and this was our third visit after a long winter. And I could use a refresher course on the 22-foot line. We both could.)

On the upside, there is some cute stuff, like Cheerios’ expression when I scritch him good, and there is proof that I can canter, and dang it, I really look like I’m finally riding better. (All I wanna do is canter all over the place.) And when I removed the 22-foot line and played at Liberty, IN AN ARENA, he stuck to me and it went really nicely. Which is L3. Which doesn’t go on the tape (I don't think). But it’s cool.

So while I don’t feel confident about passing L2 anytime in the future, LOL, I’m happy to note my progress, and I guess it’s a blessing in disguise that it DIDN’T go perfectly yesterday. And I’m grateful that I HAVE a video camera to tape it with, and that I HAVE a friend willing to stand out there doing so. And she brought carrots. (And it'll probably go better when it's done "for real", and we'll have that blue string in hand before my birthday this summer as "planned"—because I have been IN L2 since August 2003. That is LONG enough. I have let far too much "life" get in the way of my progress.)

And I got to see Cheerios interact with the foal! Wish I had that on camera. I was untacking him in the barn, and the barn manager brought in the momma horses for the night (we have mare and foal and one mare due any second now), and the foal was following momma mare, and saw Cheerios and got confused. The foal approached Cheerios, and Cheerios took on the expression of a worried parent, turned, looked at the foal, and started NICKERING at him. Hoohoo hoo. Hoohoo hoo.

I was gobsmacked. Who knew he liked babies. Luckily the barn manager got a hold of the little colt before he tried to nurse my gelding. I doubt that would have gone over well. LOL!

And the weather was beautiful, the sunset on the ride home was spectacular, and I'm very grateful that I actually have horses, and that I get to experience all of the wonderful miracles that being a part of the PNH program has given us.

HAPPY BLOGIVERSARY TO ME
Unbelievable. I've been blogging for six years as of today. This is my first blog (but not my last—I maintain quite a few on other topics). Well, good on me. No news. Raining. Love the smell of spring rain, but not the way it prevents me from being at the barn. Oh, well. I suppose that the rain will subside when I've stopped procrastinating and finished the property tax assessment complaint forms I've been avoiding for two weeks now. That's all for now... Ride on.

ENERGIZED
Yesterday was hoof trimming day. After trims, I played with Cheerios and had an amazing session Online and at Liberty in the round pen. I'm still blown away by what I experienced. There were a few "firsts" for me.

First time ever—haltered and lead in both horses at once! I figured I could do it without incident since the three of us had played at Liberty in the round pen last fall, and both seemed very laid back. Leading them both wasn't my main concern; it was dealing with the other herd members. Nobody rushed the gate, so we were good. Shaveya and Cheerios plodded in as if we do this all the time. (Maybe they do; I don't know if the barn manager brings them in one at a time or not.)

First time ever—approached Shaveya while she was lying down and she stayed down rather than get all nervous about my approach (she's RB for sure, but I haven't figured out if she's latently E or I). She let me halter her while she was laying down. She let me rub her all over while laying down. HUGE. She got up when I asked. Cheerios stood there politely waiting for us while I interacted with her.

This is beginning to be so utterly cool that I'm feelin' Level 3 already!

Yesterday was chillier than anticipated, and I almost opted to forgo horseplay after the feet were done because I had no gloves (don't like to play in gloves anyway) and the wind was nippy. I'm glad I decided what the hey, let's play for 10 minutes in the round pen online before turning him out. Ten minutes turned into a couple of hours, as it does.

Because I'm gearing up to tape my Level 2 Audition (I can hear you all saying, "it's about time, Jeanne!!!"), I wanted to focus on our Online communication. The Extreme Friendly game was broken last time. First we made strides to fixing it.

Checked out Porcupine. Working pretty good. HQ a little stickier than the FQ, which is unusual for him, usually it's the other way around. Driving fine. Yo-yo—better. Sideways—TADAAAHHH much better. He knows what I'm asking for. I'm also much more direct and forthright about asking.

I'll interrupt my progress report—while searching for a decent photo of Cheerios and I for publication in the next Savvy Times (yep! I submitted a 150-word mini-article about how Freestyle Patterns have changed our lives and it's being published), I scanned a video of us from 2006. How far we have come! First, I'm ashamed to admit I was totally boring my LBI with endless circles. Even I was getting bored watching! I found myself yelling at the video—yelling at myself, "Touch him! Touch him! You're nagging at Phase 3!!! During the part where I was riding, I was yelling, "For God's Sake, trot! Come ON!!!"

After watching, I realized how hesitant I'd been, and how much better he responded when I just ASKED. It's changed my entire perspective and technique lately, for the better. I highly recommend videotaping yourself, putting the tape away for six months, then watching it to see what you were doing before. Eye-opening.

I only asked for a couple of circles before moving on this time. Seriously. Four laps, transitions, you're good. Next?

I turned him loose and we played at Liberty. During Stick To Me, we were able to walk, trot, stop and back up in synch. That was pretty cool, so I thought, maybe I can teach him to canter with me.

I "cantered". He went with me, but trotted. He wouldn’t do it when I did it. So I sent him to canter along the perimeter. When he picked up into it, I started cantering beside him.

You should have seem the look on his face—it was comical. Like "WHAT are you DOING?" He stayed in synch, though, and when I got tired of "cantering" (out of shape, much?) and slowed to a trot, he did it with me.

Because he was so in synch with me, I had the inspiration to try an experiment Jesse did with us at one of the clinics. At the clinic, Jesse stood in the center and had us form a circle around him (without horses). He said something to the effect of "don't think about it, just do what comes naturally". He had us walk around him clockwise at a comfortable pace. None of us had any idea what this was about.

At first, Jesse stood there, head tilted down, eyes off of us (no pressure), hands folded at his waist, carrot stick in one hand, at rest. We all kept walking around the circle. (I'm trying to remember if we had our eyes closed or not. We might have formed a conga chain—it's fuzzy now.)

Jesse started slowly pivoting in the center. He wasn’t looking at us. He pivoted clockwise with us for a few rounds.

Then he changed direction and pivoted counter clockwise for a few rounds, while we continued clockwise.

When he went clockwise with us, it made me feel like I wanted to catch up to him; so I sped up. When he went the other way it felt resistant, like he was going against me. I wanted to slow down. Some people responded to it, some didn't.

The thing we were supposed to notice was how it “felt”. I noticed because I’m attuned to it—it’s the energy. He was bringing his energy up and down, and moving his energy with and against ours.

He did the same exercises but he adjusted his energy in stages. I could feel it. The pressure to go faster, slow down. It all went in time with his energy and the speed at which he spun (and he never spun fast).

Yesterday, I tried it with Cheerios. I sent him out to trot lightly on the circle. I let him establish his trot while I stood relaxing. Then I stood up slightly, and slowly began pivoting in the center without looking at him, in the same direction he was going. Simultaneously, I focused on lifting my energy just a little, in increments.

He sped up gracefully. He lifted into a beautiful slow canter.

I dropped back into relaxed pose and released pressure. He maintained the canter.

I let him go for a couple laps, then I stood straighter again, changed direction, pivoted opposite his direction, but lowered my energy, slowly, calmly, without looking AT him. I sort of pushed against his energy.

He slowed down. My mind exploded (!!!!!).

When I let out my air and just went whoosh limp like I do when riding, he stopped and stood still.

IT WAS SOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO COOL.

Can I just say that again? IT WAS SO COOL!!!!!!!

I had to play with it for awhile to make sure it wasn’t a fluke.

It wasn’t.

He was in tune with my energy. He sped up from a walk to a canter when I did so within my energy. He slammed to a stop when I suddenly reversed direction and let out all my air. He backed up when I brought up a little life and pivoted against his direction of travel. All while staying out on the circle.

It was so effing cool I was almost in tears. I didn’t have to look at him, touch him, use the stick or ANYTHING. Just shift my energy and turn with or against his direction of movement. He was compelled to respond to it.

Wow, man, I totally get it now.

Y’know, I dye beautiful yarn, but it never makes me cry. I write good songs sometimes... OK, sometimes they make me cry, but the thought of being a musician doesn’t. This horse thing... It gets to me. It’s poetry. It’s a symphony. It’s...

Beyond cool.

He got a lot of good scratches and hang time after that. I scratched the itchy spot on the crest of his mane (where he gets a dreadlock) so thoroughly I thought he was going to keel over from ecstasy (I love how they look when they get there).

I’ve been picking out music to make my audition soundtrack and getting that ready. I think we’re go for taping Online Friday (weather permitting) and maybe even Freestyle. It’s time for me to get out of Level Two. Though we still have Level Two tasks to “perfect” and I have a couple of minor fear issues to overcome (jumping), it’s obvious to ME that I am already IN Level Three for the most part. I might not be galloping or jumping three foot barrels or riding bridleless yet, but I’m past Level Two in most things. When I can do those things, and do them with excellence, I will PASS Level Three. But I don’t have to be able to do those things to be IN it.

It's so good to be back. This is where I belong.

WINTER VACAY IS OVER!
Spring has returned to NW Ohio. The crocuses have bloomed FINALLY (last year it was on the 2nd, this year the 16th), the weather is warm, the horses are shedding out in strange patches... and I finally got back to the barn to play for a change.

And it was AMAZING. Both of my horses remembered me and came right up to me for greetings and scritches. Shaveya's lameness is a bit aggravated, but she usually does that the first couple weeks of spring. They also need a trim.

Before I could play, I had to meet the latest arrival at the barn. On the 1st, the barn manager's mare foaled the most adorable little red dun colt. There is just something about that baby horse smell...

Because of the turnout configuration yesterday, we played in the round pen. I had no plan, I just wanted to see where we stood after a few weeks off. We played online first. Things were fine—good responses to Porcupine and Driving, very light but not anticipatory. Circling, good. Even Sideways—I got a few steps that looked automatic on his part—big change from last year.

Surprisingly, Extreme Friendly is broken. The moment I started thwapping, he went all RBE. I debated—do I hold onto the line during this and allow him to continue lunging himself into me; or do I release him and let him move his feet as required while allowing myself ample room to get out of his way should he explode?

I opted with Liberty. I might rethink that in the future only because I'd retain communication, but it was really a debate between communication and self-preservation and self-preservation won. I can drive him out of my space a lot better without the rope in my hands.

Hmm. Maybe I should pay attention to that. Maybe the fact that I can't communicate "Get Out Of My Space" as effectively WITH the rope in hand is something I should correct until it is as effective as driving him out of it.

He performed some very daring aerial acrobatics for me, but failed to unhinge me. (That's getting better all the time.) I've noticed the moment he sees that his attempts to upset me aren't working, he loses interest in trying, calms down, and does what he is asked to do.

This is interesting to me, and goes against the conventional RBE wisdom, which is raise your energy to match his. Had I done that, he would have jumped the gate.

Which means... maybe it wasn't RBE. Maybe it was LBE masked as RBE. Hmmm. Because matching his energy increased his—lowering mine or staying neutral diffused it. I should email an instructor about that.

Or do I have it backwards? RB, needs safety and comfort... retreat... release pressure... Hmm. I'll go rewatch the Savvy Club DVD with the four horseanalities and trailer loading to see what I had. I did the right thing, I think, but I'm not sure whether he was RB or LB.

Anyway. He settled down, the rest of it went great. I started teaching him to lead by the tail from Zone 5. We did a few S patterns. (I keep getting Falling Leaf and S patterns mixed up—one moves forward and the other backward.)

When he looked rideable, we saddled up and I got on and just sat there.

MAN it felt great to be back on the horse. Life just looks so much better from there.

Again, I had no plan, just see where we were. We walked a bit. Communication nice and light. Responding to my energy. His trot—it was smooth! Huh? Mr. Jackhammer? Mr. Pogo Stick? Smooth? I was posting to it nicely, and oddly, without even thinking about it, on the correct diagonal (when did I learn to do that?!?). Stops when I let out my energy, transitions better... and we cantered.

Know that I have never cantered in a round pen, because I once thought I needed to provide this big animal with plenty of room so he could pick up speed and plenty of room to slow him back down. Being in a 50-foot round pen is too small, plus it is, y'know, round. So I'd have to canter on a *gasp* circle.

He's not a jetliner, fer goodness' sake, he's an animal designed to whirl on a dime, bolt from predators, and slam to a stop. He doesn't need extra runway. What on earth was wrong with me?

Well, we cantered. He transitioned smoothly, it was a nice little lope, on the proper lead, and in a lovely circle. And it felt as natural as anything. It felt as though there had never been a problem before, never a threat to buck, never a nervous moment on my part.

For the first time I can remember, I felt like we were truly in harmony with one another. It's been eight years in the making.

More days like this, please.

I believe we are ready to tape our L2 auditions. For those who aren't completely in the loop, it's free until May 1, 2009. So get on it! See you there!

20 Questions
Today on Daily Parelli, we were asked:

What is your Ultimate Goal with horses? (hint: Write it down; extra-credit hint: write down answers to all of these questions)

To pass Level Four, get my black string, enter the Parelli Professionals Program, become a 4-star Horse developer and 3-Star Instructor, then raise and train good-minded horses of color (Paints, Appies, Buckskins) for the general public and run a horse rescue/rehab while educating the horse industry about the alternatives: PNH, AANHCP, Safer Grass, Perfect Pasture, Holistic therapies. (Just ignore the post where I whined that being a Parelli Pro was out of reach for me...)

Also, to get legislation passed so that horse trailers and live cargo haulers are given the same respect and consideration as school busses. Make it a serious crime to tailgate within X feet of any live cargo hauler; promote "red-light" traffic-style cameras on trailers to capture offenders; help develop safety equipment for use on trailers to assist these efforts.

Then write an autobiography about my experiences.

What is a step toward that goal that you could achieve within ten years?

Be in the PPP at the highest possible star rating I can achieve by then.

What is a step toward that goal that you could achieve within five years?

Pass Level Four. Spend more time in Ocala, ride in more clinics. Find a reining instructor and study with them.

What is a step toward that goal or a lesser goal that you could achieve within two years?

Pass Level Three Riding (both Savvys), get the green string; spend eight weeks in Ocala with my horse, ride in a couple of clinics. Get a PNH Mentor to work with. Become actively involved in horse-related legislation.

What is a step toward that goal that you could achieve within one year?

Pass Level Three at Liberty. Ride in two or three clinics and a Parelli Celebration.

What is a step toward that goal or a lesser goal that you could achieve within six months?

Pass Level Three Online. Receive blue string. Attend at least one clinic with my horse.

What is a step toward that goal that you could achieve within three months?

Pass Level Two, overcome fear of jumping barrels.

What is a step toward that goal or a lesser goal that you could achieve within one month?

Send in Level Two FreeStyle assessment submission

What is a step toward that goal that you could achieve within two weeks?

Send in Level Two Online assessment submission

What is a step toward that goal or a lesser goal that you could achieve within one week?

Get out and play with my horse a few times

What action could you take toward that goal within three days?

Get out to the barn tomorrow, Monday and/or Tuesday (and get on the AbLounge)! Pick out music to play to.

What action could you take toward that goal tomorrow?

Go to the barn! Play! Watch DVDs and catch up on the latest SC stuff. Call my friend to see if she's available to man the camera.

What action could you take toward that goal today?

Watch some DVDs to fire up my motivation; put my Boinks in the laundry so they'll be ready for tomorrow; get a good night's sleep. Start thinking about the soundtrack, music that means something to me.

What action could you take toward that goal right now?

Get the H off the computer and go watch SC DVDs. Make sure the batteries in the video camera are charged.

What information could you acquire that would improve your chances of achieving your goal?

Reread the new levels stuff so I have a better idea of how to prepare; watch YouTube vids of others' assessments to get ideas.

What's stopping you?

Obligations around the house. The need to find a job for income. Money issues, like how'm I gonna pay board next month, how'm I gonna pay for the clinic in June, how'm I gonna eat? How'm I gonna be able to afford the PPP program or the eight weeks in Ocala in two years?

Really?

Uhhh... well... yes and no. The house can be cleaned any old day. I have money in the estate and the other house that's for sale, when they sell, no need for a job for awhile... I've got money today, I could get more tomorrow, maybe I could get loans, maybe by the time I'm ready to go to Ocala I'll be ready to sell this house...

Do you see how easy it is to make a plan?

Yes.

Now, here's the toughest question of all: Once you have a plan... are you willing to change it if you need to?

Yes. It's already changed from my original plan four years ago.

Did you count to see if there were actually 20 questions?

Didn't have to. The person whose blog sent me to this link already did it for me. ;-)