dancinghorse | Wow. That was something.

Neep below.

It was a strange Thanksgiving. I had planned to have turkey with

casacorona and company, then visit the parental unit. Instead, just as I was leaving, I found that the Evil Gelding had let himself out, blocked the others from following, selected the alfalfa-pellet can (versus the 10%-protein-with-good-additions can, the Safe&Sound can, the daily-wormer bucket, or the cookie bucket), pulled it out into the aisle, unlocked the locking lid, and triumphantly scarfed down most of what was in it. 30-40lbs, give or take. Normally, per day, he gets two pounds. Max.

There was much IMing and phone-calling and emailing with

casacorona and two vets. Dr. Doom was essentially unconcerned, gave me a list of things to watch for, and said no need for an emergency holiday vet call, unless something on that list occurred.

So, no turkey for me. Colic watch all day and into the night. The Evil One looked somewhat green and woozy, and was noticeably bloated, but his famous appetite never wavered, and he was most put out to be fed only a half-ration of grass hay.

So much for Turkey Day. I did, while too restless to sit down, discover a beautiful recipe for mushroom ragout, and decide to pick a handful of sour oranges off the tree and see if they really were, as advertised, a kind of sour mandarin, advertised as a lime (and the best marmalade fruit there is, superior even to the Seville orange, but we haven't tested that yet). And lo, we achieved Rangpur Lime Curd, and it was, indeed, sublime. Especially after, on Friday, it went into cheesecake.

And there was turkey on Saturday, because I wanted it, damn it. And it was good. And Sunday was quiet and contentedly full and I worked on the Rewrite That Will Not Die, and rode Pooka, who has been having a late-season attack of Stallion Whees thanks to Pandora's year-round enthusiasm. Strangers rode by as this was happening, and while I would have liked to go over and say howdy, the testosterone gauge had redlined, and there was passage, and very very very light but very very very strong stallion, and I opted for the better part of valor. I'm sure the passersby enjoyed the show.

As soon as they rode off, he flipped his switch and was all Mr. Dressage Horse. And we played with gaits and transitions and lateral movements. And it was good.

On Monday I excavated the storage shed. That's an annual ritual, but it was time for some serious reaming. Out with the empty boxes and buckets, but also the old unusable junk that had been there for years. That took much of the day and was exhausting, but now there is room for tack and horse blankets, as well as books and mss. and assorted other things. And that was good.

Today was lesson day. Pooka knows the drill now: everybody goes in for lunch instead of staying out, and he gets his saddle! and his bridle! and his FEELGOOD LADY!

It must be an indication of my attitude that I go out early and have him ready early, instead of waiting till the last minute. Though today I was having attacks of the I-cants and this won't be good and I don't know what we'll do today and I don' wanna and I'm not worth anything and an assortment of other old tapes. But he was all for it, and that helped shift me toward feeling good about it.

Last time was mind-blowing. S actually recalibrated the energy of this place, and it was a bit too much for this agnostic to cope with. I couldn't duplicate it and wasn't expected to try. I was just supposed to mess around with balance and position, do things and see what the results were, and above all, try to not to try. That was bloody hard. The harder I tried...the harder I tried. Aarrghh.

Today was less amorphous and abstract and more concrete. Instead of taking me to places I wouldn't have believed existed till I was forced into belief by all that went down with the Toxic One, we connected to what I know or have been taught, and worked with that. It was very simple really. Just a progression through gaits and transitions.

Start in halt. Release the atlas/jaw. Do this by finding a comfortable place to sit on his back, opening a rein if it feels right, and asking for the true flexion. Seatbones are involved. His back has to be up. Now connect the rear to the front. This means opening up the seat, asking him to raise his back, not allowing him to drop onto the opposite shoulder, and asking him to rock back onto the selected hindleg. When the weight shifts, there's a moment of infinite possibility. Allow it forward.

Et voila. Walk. Work on this for a while, halt-engage-walk-halt-repeat. Switch from side to side, a few strides each side. Left was his harder side, now it's right--we've been working more to the left because he has that bulge in the atlas. On the right he wants to wiggle and sneak and drop onto his left shoulder. This is good--he's changing difficult sides. Outside rein is essential here. Also, breathing on my part. And making sure I keep the rein on the correct side of the neck, and opening the inside rein as needed.

I got stuck at this point, and S had a solution: if it gets sticky, dismount, stand in front of him, ask for the flexions and the connection from the ground. This involves asking for the correct bend, but also using my own body position to rock him back onto the selected hindleg.

Once we had sorted that out and I had remounted (from the ground--usually I don't, the saddle rolls; but S was there to hold the stirrup, and he was completely grounded and centered: was like mounting a statue), we carried on to the next step: rock back within the walk and take it to the next stage, which is a more collected and truly forward walk. This becomes halt-walk-more walk-halt.

Now up the ante: from the more-walk, up the energy level. And there's the trot. His first trot was all over the place behind--he is not used to being connected and through. Nor am I. We went back to walk, repeated the progression. Better next time. I did a rising trot for this, rather than have to contend with the challenge of sitting his big, bouncy trot while we both figured out the whole connection thing. Also, I had to really focus on not trying. The less I tried to do, the more fluid and connected he was. We stopped after he had achieved a lovely, soft, forward, correctly bent trot to the right.

The progression is: release, rock back, go.

I had a brief relapse into an old bad habit while dealing with the more-walk stage: left wrist buckled and lost the connection. S pointed to it and it went away.

She noticed some significant changes in his neck, which is much longer and softer than it was two weeks ago--a little too soft in some ways, but those are ways we're happy to work with. I noticed on Sunday that he's wearing his saddle a good two inches farther back. He always had to have it fairly far forward (per the chiro vet), and would fuss if it went back too far. Now he wants it farther back. He has withers out there now, and more slope to the shoulder, and more freedom of movement. The saddle actually fits better than it ever has; he's very comfortable with it.

His topline continues to evolve. His back has more room in it, and his croup appears to be elongating. The whole horse is releasing and relaxing, becoming both smoother and more powerful to ride. Mentally he's in a wonderful place. Soft eyes to go with the soft neck, and a real enthusiasm for his rides and his lessons.

The most interesting result however was how I felt after I'd finished and done the evening chores. I realized what a beautiful day it was--clear, mild, perfect--and I felt, simply, good. I haven't felt that way in a long, long time. It was a deep contentment, and a real joy in being here, doing what I'm doing. Again, it's been a long time.

And on top of all that trauma last week, too. Something's shifted, for sure. I like it. I hope it means we're headed for an up cycle, after much too long on the downhill side.