Random Cat-Waxing, Ephiny, Pooka the Weird, and Various

[dancinghorse]

This is a totally random post. May take sharp left turns. Or right ones. Enjoy the ride.

Ephiny
I realize I've seriously fallen down on Ephiny's Training Diary. Working Student had to quit because of overwhelming academic commitments, which removed the structure from that project. We have continued the process, slowed down by CFS, weather, and assorted farp, but the slowdown has had method in its madness. Ephiny has been processing; I've been working her when she asks, and doing various things: groundwork, wearing of tack, longeing, and starting this month, Walkies Outside The Herd. The first walkies were High! Adventure! tcastleb said she could feel the energy field from a hundred yards away. Up close, it was kind of like being at ground zero of an explosion. And having to be calm and centered, and remember to breathe. There were no actual explosions, because she was listening to me and keeping herself under control.

The next venture, a week later (with groundwork in between), was almost completely different. Drastically lower freakout levels, much calmer attitude, and some lookiness but she was generally within the standard limits for horse in new environment.

That's Ephiny. Very very strong defensive reactions in round one, but if I stay calm and don't play into it, then give her time to think things over, she settles down. Her whole affect changes. She's soft, focused, and happy to work. She asks for it and looks forward to it. In short, she has a wonderful mind, excellent motivation, and is doing extremely well with the slow-and-steady method.

I talked to S about this today. Couldn't find the funds for a lesson (I have a couple of openings for new or returning Mentees--sign up by email or in comments), but I watched tcastleb's and touched base with S afterwards. If and when the wherewithal is available, I'll back Ephiny with S's help. She's ready. I got that message this week. It's a feeling one gets. The work's going well, the horse has her ducks in a row, it's time. I want to do a little more with wearing of tack, some messing around while she's in it, and get her fully comfortable with bridle and bit (she's worn them but not consistently). And we'll be there. S wants to do what we did with Camilla: groundwork that segues into me on her back. Which is exactly what I was thinking, too.

Pooka Blows My Tiny Little Mind
Pooka meanwhile has been demonstrating that he may not be ostentatiously Evil like ze keed, or all drama queen like Camilla, but he too is Not The Standard Issue. I've done some thinking about things in general, not just horses, and looking back at the virtual landscape of the past half-year, I see one reason after another for him to not want lessons. If it's not weather or lack of cash, it's him springing a leak. Ho-kay, so, is he telling me something?

I've been on a mission for years to get SRS lessons. I got them with Pook in 2007, then for various reasons (some Toxic, some logistical) didn't get another until this past January. We went in all full of ourselves, thinking we'd make a real jump up in the standings, get out of of the basic-training rut, and finally head in the direction I've always wanted to go in.

Instead, as we all know, we got Pooka flinging himself to the ground in a fit, followed by a lot of "But--but--this isn't the horse we see at home! Or fercrissake at other clinics or outings!" It was useful, and very much so, in its way, and I learned quite a bit from it. It was very much worth doing. But not in the way I thought it would be.

Instead of taking us higher in dressage, what it ended up doing was demonstrating that Pooka had his own strong dose of PTSD, which he worked through in rather dramatic ways. One way it manifested was through my biggest mistake. I should never have slipped back into deference and had F ride Pook that first day. F asked if I was afraid to ride my horse in the state he was in. I was not. But hey, World-Class Trainer. "Sit over there, dear, and let someone who knows what he's doing ride your horse." F would never dream of saying such a thing, or even really thinking it, but that's exactly what I did.

And Pooka let us all know just how bad an idea that was. Not that the rider wasn't wonderful, wasn't tactful, wasn't exquisitely nuanced and careful. He wasn't me. And Pooka, from the day he was born, has only ever really wanted me. Regardless of any deficiencies or failures in me as a rider or as a person--I'm his stupidhuman and I'm the one he wants. Period. End of discussion.

So, instead of higher levels of dressage, we got a solid wake-up call and a smack upside the virtual head. Also some excellent input on stallion handling, basic training, longeing, and those other essential things that aren't well known at all outside the SRS.

And yesterday I was driving home from errands and it finally all clicked into place and Duh. We do not, at this point, need the SRS. I was craving it because I wasn't getting the level of teaching at home that I knew Pook and I both needed. Now I am. We will get to the point (dammit) where we need expert input on the higher arts, but not now. Now is for filling in the last of the holes. And getting the last of myself back.

Which paradoxically is why Pook is evading lessons for the time being. Not that we don't need a boot upside the butt in order to advance with the ring work--but ring work is not all there is. And one thing I have had serious problems with all my life is confidence. Which plays strongly into this (as well as into my mistake at the clinic).

And that is all leading up to what's been happening for the past few rides. I'd been having attacks of not wanting to ride, again, between CFS, stress freakouts, weather (high temps and/or high winds), and running away for a badly needed break. When I came back from break with a newly refurbed brain and my fiction-fu back (it disappeared completely in May), Pooka started letting me know we could do more than ring work. One evening when I was almost too tired to ride, but made myself do it anyway, I took him out, figuring we'd noodle around the property and call it a ride.

One way and another we ended up on the road, riding past the neighbors' new fence. Which turned out to contain a dog.

Pooka bolted. He'd done so once before, a few months ago, from dogs farther down the road, and been just about uncontrollable. I did finally get him under control but it was an adrenaline rush.

This time he didn't feel quite so freaked out. He was asking, while he ran, "Is this what we do? Hey, up there, what's the procedure?" I got him in hand quickly, reassured him, rode back home with some snorting and jigging. And that normally would have been that, but Atavistic Me--the kid who used to ride anything anywhere and stay on through anything--emerged from the primordial ooze and noted, casually, that there was a time when I'd go back and work on the scary thing until the horse wasn't scared any more.

So I did. We rode back up there, and there was the dog again. And I explained to Pook about how you face a dog, you don't bolt, you don't jig, and you calm down and cruise on by. My dressage-arena flower (ye gods, when did I let that happen?) said Oh, I get it. Yes. OK. And we rode home again and it was good.

So that was pretty standard, and I was pleased and so was he. And life went on. We had high winds. I had other horses to ride. I ring-rode him and he was good.

Then came his turn to ride again, and he had a Mission. He pulled me over toward what I thought was the water tank--on hot, dry days especially, he likes to have a drink before he starts. But he wasn't headed for the water after all. He was aiming for the gate. And pointing toward the place with the dog.

I wasn't up for it (only had about half a clue at the time), but I did get the message. What we did instead was go to the other corner of the farm, where neighbors also have dogs--including a black mastiff. Hound of the Baskervilles, anyone? And we discussed procedure again, with a different set of dogs, but hey, same procedure. And that was good.

And it blew my mind. Horse is thinking. Horse wants to spookproof himself. Horses do not do this. Seriously. I've seen Capria hunt down a snotty filly and half-kill her after a 24-hour plotting period (filly had kicked her, and she was Not Amused). But learning something about scary predators, pondering it for days, then going back to practice coping skills? Not in the manual, folks.

Next ride after that was a ring ride. And we had canter. Still only right lead (still entirely my issue), and also I had spaced and put the saddle an inch farther back--more room for him to move. He's changed shape. More goodness; he can move, we're making good changes.

And then, next ride, he wanted Out. See a pattern there? Beeline for dog number one. Review of procedures. Then I say, OK, how about a real test? Remember the horrible wild bolt last winter? Let's go visit those dogs. They're good dogs, just big and furry and they like to talk a lot.

He was very hesitant. Lots of stops. A snort or two or three. But we went all the way down there (about a quarter-mile of rocky road), we faced those dogs, we got a good look at them--and Pook asked to go closer and snort at them. And nobody died. Wiktory!

That's where we are now. Pooka wants to be a trail pony. It's a useful skill and he wants it. Alternating with ring work that's actually getting somewhere. And it's making me remember who I really am, what I can really do--and that's paying off big time with the Girlz, because they need that confident, experienced, un-messed-up me.

Fiction Brain, Back at Last
I think that applies to the fiction, too. The past few years have been brutal and I've fought through massive blockage and a whole lot of hating on everything I managed to scrape out through the blocks. There have been a few spurts of good times--last fall's Attack Novel, which got halfway through before I fell apart again, being the most notable--but mostly it's been all about the suckage.

In the past couple of weeks, I've been coming up with idea after idea. Working on proposals. Having a blast with a couple of Top-Sekrit Projekts that I will talk about in time, don't worry. Jogging along slowly with story for the second Shadow Conspiracy volume--and falling in love with the Victorian Age and its Steampunk variations.

I never cared much for that era. I was always into the ancients and the Middle Ages. More modern stuff just didn't do it for me. But one way and another, thanks to this crazy-delightful shared world and a few other developments in the past several months, I have myself a new research baby and I am having so. Much. Fun.

Best part, really, is that the way publishing has changed, I'm no longer bound by what will sell to the Big Six. I hope these projects will, because that's still where the living wages are, but if they don't, there are other ways to get the work out there. Starting with Book View Cafe, which is working on a new, streamlined, much more accessible system.

So, lots of thinky thoughts there, and lots of ideas. Just the way we like it.

Online Classes--Beta-Testers Ho!
Yes, finally! I'm lining myself up to get a working model of an online class. I have a list of people who said they'd like to help beta-test. This is free--if you decide it's worth something, I have PayPal, but if you'd like to help me get a system together that really works, comment or email. I'll be doing it through an lj filter to start with, as it's the simplest way and the format is familiar to all of us. Subject: Plotting. Come and play!

Comments

[electricland.livejournal.com]

Aaargh... OK, please count me in, if you're still looking!

[raithen.livejournal.com]

but you love me, right ELL?

have FUN with this, Miss Judy :). And Miss Ell ;)