Tag Archives: horses

May14

naked

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I was doing some research for my book, Horse Dancing, and came across the Jacques Derrida book, The Animal That I Therefore Am.  The book was sparked by Derrida’s experience when his cat followed him into the bathroom in the morning.  He asks what this animal sees when it sees this naked man.

Derrida aside, I wonder about our emotional nakedness before our animal companions.  I know that I feel more exposed and more uncovered with my horses than anywhere else.  I have to be more self-aware, more vulnerable with them than I do at any other time.  It doesn’t happen all the time, because I am not always that conscious, but if I let myself be seen, if I am listening, there it is.

I wonder if we mostly can’t get quiet or humble enough to really feel that sense of nakedness, if we are just too busy being the apex species to let that in.  Or it is too much trouble to take off all the armor, all the habitual responses to our animal companions.  What is it like to allow ourselves to be seen, to be observed?

I read in one of Klaus Hempfling’s books that humans get triggered into violence with horses because the horses uncover their vulnerability, their lack of skill, their awkwardness, their ineffectiveness.  I have experienced that many times.  You can’t ride for very long without stumbling into that tarpit.

So here is a question to which I would love some responses:  how do you experience your nakedness with animals?  How much do you let yourself be seen?

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Apr30

can you help? thank you!

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I don’t usually do an outright ask on the blog.  And I will not do it often.  This is an ask for help with our new horse dancing project, All the Pretty Horses.

Since I started working with rescued horses, it has been my dream to create a performance with these “throw away” horses and local dancers.  We have now found the perfect partnering organization, Little Brook Farm in Old Chatham, New York.

Little Brook has been saving horses for many, many years.  The unique part of their program is that these horses then become active, participating partners in a range of activities:  riding, performing, vaulting, jumping and teaching generations of children and adults about horses and all of the ways that we can connect with them.

A visit there is moving.  It is a humble place, staffed by passionate and dedicated volunteers.  The effort goes into the programs, into the care of the horses, and into sharing the joy of horses with humans from age three to the sky is the limit.

In order to bring the project to fruition, we need to raise $3500 to offset fees and travel for the professional dancers from my company who travel from Boston.  Those funds are also for publicity, costumes and modest administrative costs to assure that the event is a rousing success.

The performance will take place October 6 at Little Brook Farm in Old Chatham, NY.  Mark your calendars!!!

Please help us to whatever extent you can.   Dancemakers Inc. is a 501(c)3 non-profit organization. Donations are fully tax-deductible to the extent allowed by law. To contribute, click on the link below or make your check payable to Dancemakers Inc. and send to the address below.

Dancemakers, Inc.

P.O. Box 773
Sharon, CT 06069
Apr17

wandering in the dark

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For three years we have had our house on the market.  I was going to write that we had been trying to sell it, but that would not be exactly true.  We love our home.  We have actually, probably been trying to avoid selling it.  But the time has truly come when it is not avoidable.  It has to happen.  Soon.

That has thrown me into a chaos of terror and sorrow.  Pam said that maybe the problem is that neither of us could imagine anything better.  So moving forward feels bad.  Feels like loss and capitulation and more loss.

On top of that, I need to find a new home for Amadeo, the beautiful, talented, complicated Andalusian that I no longer ride.  I want a horse-mommy or daddy for him that is a good, kind, wise fit.  Deo and I have have a terrifically long, fraught relationship.  Bottom line, I love him, but I am not a good rider for him, and he has a strong desire to do his work.  So hello out there . . .

With all of this turmoil, there is this: in order to move forward, I have to make a picture of something delicious, inviting, hopeful.  I cannot do that at the moment.  But I can imagine doing it, and that is a beginning.

 

Apr16

horse medicine

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After lunch yesterday with Jon and Maria, Jon told me that he still didn’t know what I do every day, reading my blog.  He also said that he didn’t feel like he knew much about me. He likes the blogs, likes the writing, but wants to feel more of me there.  “Caught,” I thought.

The conversation came around to hiding, to fear.  I talked about not wanting people to know too much of my life.  “Why?’ he said.  I thought that I might burst into tears. The feeling was like the moment before an avalanche.  A huge cliff of hanging snow about to plunge down the mountain, obliterating everything before it.  “I am afraid,” I answered.

“Why?” he asked again.  I talked about the kind of fear and vigilance that I carry.  Twenty-six years married to the same woman.  The love of my life.  And in the world, I walk around with this mantle of fear and caution.  Not all the time, but often.  It seeps into my writing.  It colors how much I will say, how much of myself I will show.

I didn’t talk about age, or even about how I hide my age. I will talk about it later.  I am not sure how much of the fear and hiding I can unravel in one post.

I think that is why I loved being with Rocky. Why I love my horses, Capprichio, Amadeo and Sanne, and why I spend time every week with Nelson.  They do not care about any of that.  They care that I am there, that I am present with them.  And when I am with them, I don’t care about any of those things either.  It all falls away.  Dissolved in love and in the moment.