January 1, 2024 Mill Swamp Indian Horses Is On the Move!

Some people in our program are waking up a bit conflicted. There might even be a few that did not sleep very well. Some people might not have slept well for the past several days. They are struggling. They are struggling to decide whether or not they trust themselves. 

Tomorrow morning many of us are going to bring in the new year with a ten-mile hike in the Dismal Swamp. 

Most of the people in our program have never walked ten miles at a time. Therefore, they do not know if they can do it. And for some, if they do not know that they can do it then they certainly cannot risk finding out. Some might even feel that in this entire world there is nothing worse than failing in front of others.

 But there are things much worse. It is much worse to live in fear of failure than it is to take on a hard challenge. It is much worse to worry about a challenge than it is to learn to push through challenges. Some young people and way too many parents do not understand the import of doing things that are difficult. It is not to prepare one's body to win a trophy. The stakes are much higher than that. It is to prepare oneself for every drop of rain that will fall into everyone's life. 

  Here is the core truth that most people never understand. Doing hard things does not make you stronger. Doing hard things simply allows you to understand how truly strong you are.

Doing hard things prepares you to fight. Doing hard things teaches you that you can fight. Doing hard things does not guarantee that you will win every fight but avoiding doing hard things does guarantee that every fight that you are forced into will be much more difficult if your only preparation for life has been to hide and avoid.

 We leave the tack shed at 9:00 am Monday to drive to the Dismal Swamp for this wonderful hike.

"Pain that never sleeps falls drop by Drop on Our Hearts Until, Through the Awesome Grace of God, comes Wisdom"--Aeschylus

She was upset. She was wrong. She told me that I must never let the kids see pain in me. She did not want me to talk about Lido. 

 It is a damn sorry role model that teaches kids that lying to the world is fine as long as you lie to yourself with equal vehemence. 

 On December 29, 2008 my little brother who was 17 years old reached into the truck to take his gun out to kill another deer. He was there hunting with his best friend on what is now the New Land. Cerebral Palsy made it so that he only had one arm to use for the removal. The gun accidentally discharged, and I lost my best friend and my role model of perseverance and resilience. 

 And each fall since then I have careened though life as I moved back towards the date of his re-death. I fight though the calendar as if I were running a marathon. I constantly remind myself that January is coming. 

I stumble though the holidays not as a wounded person, but as a wound. Every slight, every new responsibility dropped on me, every insult, no matter how minor rubs the open wound that is my existence for about the last quarter of the year.

 Over the years the pain has become utterly manageable. But the fear has not. I was sitting at my office when the phone rang --the damn phone--the sound that I hate to hear the most --the most disruptive sound in my existence--the phone that still cuts thorough me every time I hear one ring--to be told that Lido was dead.

 And if Lido could die like that every single soul in my life could leave with equal ease. Never could I be safe in feeling that the person that I love today will be with me ten minutes from now. This time of year, I find myself urging those around me to be careful. This creates friction with some teens. They don't like being asked to make sure that they are riding in a safe, responsible manner. Some of them truly resent it. They don't have the life experiences that allow them to understand.

 But that mother was so wrong when she told me that talking about Lido upset the kids and that I should not do so. She was wrong not because she hurt me, but because she sought to deprive me of the chance to teach the children a very important lesson.

 And that lesson is both this simple and this difficult. The lesson is that, like Lido, I did not give up. I fight back every single year and every single year I make it to January. And it is the hardest thing that I ever do. And I do it. 

 And they can do it too--whatever "it" is. After Lido died Chaz Hornbaker's Eagle Scout project was the building a bridge over the swamp behind the Little House that is dedicated to Lido which is inscribed with his constantly encouraging words, 'If I can do it then why can't you?" 

 The message on that bridge speaks louder and clearer than any noise that will ever be made on a telephone.

(This is a picture of Lido on Sand Creek in one of our clinic's that he and I used to do on natural horsemanship in the years before we had our current program)

The War On Wiftiness--Why Training for Endurance Events Matters to You and Your Horse

Working the horse can be more than just a facet of building strong mental and emotional health. It can be the cornerstone of growth. Whether training the horse's mind or the horse's body, success is dependent on the discipline of the trainer. 

 To be "wifty" is to be a person who bounces from one interest to another without even coming close to developing a pattern, much less a well-set discipline of work towards a goal. A wifty person lives whim to whim.

 A wifty person sees a picture of a horse and "falls in love" with it. A wifty person sees a picture of a show rider with a blue ribbon and is pulled, if only for a few moments, perhaps a few minutes, or maybe even a few months towards the show ring. A wifty person is perfectly enthusiastic about the moment's whim and remains steadfast in that enthusiasm until confronted with a need to work, a need to develop a schedule, or a need to prioritize life's demands. 

At that point the wifty person quits. Every single time the wifty person quits they take home one strong message--"I failed." 

Wiftiness allows one to imagine pleasure but to only realize pain. Wiftiness creates slow burning misery.

 Discipline allows one to imagine pleasure and provides a pathway to realize that pleasure. The effective practice of natural horsemanship transforms the imagination of pleasure into its realization. The discipline required to condition one's horse and one's body for endurance riding takes one's equine experience to a different level. The reward that one gets from knowing that one is truly improving the horse's health and happiness by building a strong heart, efficient lungs and a powerful body trumps the fleeting feeling of having someone hand you a blue ribbon or a trophy. 

People often speak of "partnership" with the horse. When the two of you work together to become as strong physically, mentally, and emotionally you two are the closest of partners. 

 Stop being wifty. 

Commit and follow through. 

You deserve better. Your family deserves better. 

Your horse deserves better.