Tag Archives: Capprichio

Dec4

Capprichio!

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I’d like you to meet my ride and my friend.  This is Capprichio, the black Andalusian stallion that is the great (equine) love of my life and my favorite dance partner.

He is ridden here not by me but by his former trainer, the brilliant Sabine Schut-Kery.  If you watch the video on her site, he is the one wearing the yellow polos.

We don’t live in Florida.  This is just where he and I got to know each other a bit.  That was six years ago.  He is nearly 20 now.  Sexy as ever.

Our riding these days is shaped by how he is feeling. That means that I have to pay attention, to wake up to the being that is carrying me, and to work within his limitations.  That is another piece of the ongoing dance.

In the burgeoning storm about horses and slaughter, there is this:  horses possess a sensitivity and delicacy that is beyond our comprehension.  They are defenseless.  They are companion animals, like dogs and cats.  They are our work and play partners.  Slaughter is never, never humane.

I am feeling despair and a deep sadness about this issue.  I want us to do better, as humans;  to be more feeling, more loving in our choices.

 

 

 

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Oct3

the feel of things

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There are certain sensations, certain sensory memories that are so deep and detailed that I can summon them up effortlessly, feel the whole sensuous shape of them here and now. They are touchstones, places of delight and grounding.

Recently, I have been playing with them in a more intentional way.  Not just thinking about them in passing, but diving in, relishing, savoring.  A kind of sensuous meditation.

Capprichio’s nose is the softest, sweetest place I know.

What is delicious to you?

Sep17

Pimp My Ride

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This is a photo of my beautiful stallion Capprichio at Dressage at Devon in 2004.  He is ridden by Sabine Schut-Kery and dancing with Ana Ayromlou.  Today he is is almost 20 years old, and our riding is cooked down, basic.  A little trot, a little canter, long companionable walks across the beautiful, grassy meadows.

If I put on music when I am riding him, I can feel him fill up, his neck arches, he starts to prance and blow, remembering all his chops – the passage, piaffe, the pirouettes and rears.  I love that feeling – all that wildness and energy coming up under me.   But dancing isn’t good for his ligaments or his joints, so we let that wave pass, and go back to being our companionable selves.  In my heart and mind though, he is always dressed to kill, and we are dancing together, full throttle.  Even just standing together gazing at the landscape, our six legs on the ground.