The Horse Is My Teacher

Throughout my entire childhood and teen years I only rode bareback. All the kids in our tiny town had horses, so the opportunities and inspiration for shenanigans were endless. Saddles took too much time. We grabbed the nearest things to put on their heads and raced away from the barn, from chores, homework and parent supervision, most days after school and always on the weekends. We ran to the river to go for a swim or up the power line roads to lope through the streams that fed the valley. When I wanted to disappear I lazily walked, sitting side-saddle or backwards, forgotten reins swinging side to side, up to the meadow in the foothills. I’d let my horse graze while I picked wildflowers for my fort, collected rocks, and ate my peanut butter and honey sandwich. On summer nights as a teen, I’d walk barefoot to the pasture and I’d lie on the big cranky but trusty mare’s back, head on her rump, with no halter or need for it. She would stand as long as I asked her to, as if she knew I needed her stoic energy as my mind whirled. I’d stare at the stars while coyotes yipped in the distance and pretend I was somewhere, and someone else. We rode them to school only to get sent back home, which secretly was the plan and seldom the destination as we’d return to school hours later with sweat marks from the horses backs on our backsides. I owe my sticky seat, and so much more, to all those adventures and my 52 year old self is grateful for the spirit and grit of that young girl who still inspires me to get on my horse and ride. I ride bareback as often as I can and lope the dirt roads, reins on the horse’s neck, and arms and heart open wide. Every time I do I’m reminded of the freedom of exploring my world, unsupervised and unbridled by the “should do’s” and “need to have’s” of today’s adult horsemanship. Sure I have bought and bought into all the things and thoughts we collect after a lifetime shared with horses, and horse people, because it was new or because I was told so. Some of them have remained core to my horsemanship and some I deconstructed to find the pieces that fit and discarded the rest. Its important to remind myself and my horses as often as I can that all these gadgets and all those opinions might not be meant for us. The older I get the more I value the idea of “less” and lean into the old ways rather than the newest things, less talk, less hands, less noise, less me and more horse. Opinions and gimmicks and gadgets might just be an impediment to finding success and joy on our journey.

Carrie Lynne

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