a horse, a horse, my kingdom for a … wait, i ain’t got no kingdom!
sea and i were chatting, as usual, and we started daydreaming about lottery winnings, and all the silly things we’d do with the money. and i mentioned that i’d go to montana and spend a few months around horses. and sea, one of the people who knows me best in the world, said, ‘huh, never figured you for the horsey type.’
i rode for six years. when we lived in africa, i was at the stables at least 3 times a week, for years. my mother first put me on a horse when i was three. she hoisted me up onto a regal arabian and i sat there with her, studiously holding the reins and grinning. i was hooked. from 5 or 6 until i was thirteen, i was always taking lessons, promenading through the neighboring plantations, scrubbing down the horses, and attaching myself to different mares. i was never much of a jumper – i still balk at the thought of driving a horse to a fence and giving him no option but to jump. i believe in the bond between human and rider, and i think there’s only so far it should be tested. jumping for sport has always seemed to be overstepping the bounds of a horse’s loyalties and training.
i was instead, quite good at dressage, which essentially is training with the horse to be able to coordinate its movements down to the very slightest command – it used to be use to better equip riders in battle, but now is mainly an aesthetic training of guidance and subtlety. it’s quite beautiful, and for a ten year old, i was quite good at it.
i gave up when i got to houston because i’d become accustomed to feisty, regal arabians in africa, and the horses in houston were obedient nags that didn’t spark my creative excitement at all. so i gave up.
talking to seastreet about it, explaining how much i’d loved it – makes me miss riding. it happens a couple times a year or so. i get this impetuous urge to be on horseback again, to see a field of grass stretching out before me. and lean forward. the minute i lift my seat up, when the horse feels that forward pitch, the horse’s muscles send ripples through me, because he knows what’s coming. and with a well trained horse, that’s all i have to do to break into a gallop. from the awkward, controlled gait of a trot, into the full blown forward hurtle of a canter… there’s nothing like it in the entire world. suddenly the ground just droppps away and there’s only one thing in the universe – the back of that horse. and the more i lean forward, the more i urge him onwards.
so don’t be surprised if i’m gone for a few days. it means i flew to montana, rented a car, drove as far out into the wildnerness as i could still find farms, and drove up to one of these farms. i said to the guy, here’s 200 bucks. can i borrow a horse for the day? and then i saddled up the horse, swung on, yelled ‘hi-yahh!’, clicked my tongue, dug in my heels, and cantered off into an endless field of green and sky. and i laughed, really loud, into the wind.