BY PONYMOMAMMY
I wish I knew as much as I thought I knew, back when I thought I knew everything.
Life has a funny way of working itself out. A couple of years ago, my PonyKid had grown into a BigEqKid, and my beloved Hony found himself retired. Believe me when I say this is the best news he has ever heard, and he will remain with me for the rest of his life as a very expensive and moody lawn ornament.
I had found a new green project, “Steed” (name changed to protect the cute). By the time PonyKid/BigEqKid was in the spring of her senior year in high school, she had officially transitioned to AmmySidekick, and Steed and I were starting to find our groove. Unfortunately, Lady Luck was not on our side, and we unexpectedly lost Steed that spring.
It was a rough season…I had spent my entire life defining myself as an equestrian, and my entire adult life as a mom. I found myself without a horse of my own to ride, and with my oldest moving out of the house. I felt a bit untethered.
I decided the responsible thing to do was to wait until the AmmySidekick had started college (she was staying close to home) and see how often she was able to come ride her horse, before pursuing my own horse shopping. Her horse is a real live unicorn, and I would be so lucky to get to ride him on a regular basis. But, you know, responsible decisions and horses do not often go hand in hand. I didn’t even make it a full month after moving her into the dorm before I did the obviously logical thing, and bought a three-year-old, sight unseen.
I know, I know, but he was from the same lineage as Steed, moved great, and checked most of the boxes, albeit considerably younger than I planned. But I told myself that Steed reminded me how much I love bringing along a green one. It felt kismet, so I wired the money, and “GreenBean” (name changed to protect the foolish) was on his way.
In hindsight, it was maybe not my best idea. Don’t get me wrong, I really do love the process involved with a green horse. Watching the lightbulb go off and things click into place is amazing to witness. It’s just that there is “green,” and then about a million miles behind that, there was GreenBean. He had been sat on, and that’s about it. That particular level of green was perhaps more than I bargained for.
In what I can only describe as a moment of equestrian hubris, I figured I would just hop on GreenBean and see where we were. Yes, friends, I am that naive. I thought this would be just like when I was 15 and hopped on a fresh off the track thoroughbred. Spoiler alert—things did not go as I expected.
GreenBean promptly reared up and flipped over on me. Fortunately, aside from some bruises (including a rather nasty bruise to my ego), I was fine, but it was time to call in reinforcements. I am a firm believer that the right horse will find you at the right time, so even though I was second-guessing my decision, we had to get to the other side of this. We needed to take like 10 giant steps back from where I expected to be. We needed some serious groundwork, a better foundation, and some semblance of trust asap.
I called a local guru of natural horsemanship (he calls it natural humanship), who pushed me WAY outside of my comfort zone. Trainer was tough. Tough on me, not on GreenBean. With GreenBean, his messages were clear and concise. For me, I felt overwhelmed, but I trusted the process (most of the time), and I learned a ton. There were tears (mine), and blood and sweat (also mine), and enough lessons for a lifetime. On more than one occasion, I wished I had this knowledge before having kids—it would have been a game-changer.
In one particularly difficult (for me) lesson, I was blindfolded in the middle of the round pen and told to free lunge GreenBean at the walk, trot, and canter, in both directions, based on “sensing” where he was. It was awful. I was frustrated. I just wanted to do it “right” and felt like I was getting nowhere, when Trainer said the thing that changed everything, ”You’re trying to do this thing that you don’t understand how to do, and you’re getting no visual feedback if what you’re trying is working or not. You can’t see the picture because you don’t even know what the picture is supposed to be…now imagine how your horse feels every time you ask for something new.”
Trainer also shared my belief that the right horse will find you, but his philosophy is that they find you in order to show you what you need to work on within yourself. Take from that what you will, but I was definitely concerned about what my life choices said about me!
Life with GreenBean initially was a constant battle of one step forward, and 10 steps back, to the point where Trainer, exasperated, looked at me and said, “I just don’t know if you are f’ed up enough to need this horse!” Still not sure if that is a compliment or not, but a year later, we are still here, and I am still learning.
We have had a lot of growth in the last year, though truthfully, most of the progress has belonged to me, rather than GreenBean. I think it was very easy for me to assume that after a lifetime as a rider, I had all the tools and knowledge I needed to see this project through. But I have learned that anyone who says they have all the answers is lying.
Perhaps Socrates said it best: “The only true wisdom is in knowing that you know nothing.” And maybe the coolest part of this journey is the acceptance that it’s okay to not have all the answers. It’s also okay to listen to my gut when I think I do know. Most importantly, it’s okay to be wrong because that is where the learning can really occur.
It does not matter how long you’ve been doing this horse thing or how many accolades you hold—there is always something more to learn. Dressage may help with your sitting trot, natural horsemanship may help ground manners, fox hunting might help you regulate your pace…the possibilities are endless. There is always more to learn.
It’s been a full year, and GreenBean is just now grasping the concept of cantering intentionally. There have definitely been moments where I have wanted to ship him off to a cowboy to get it done quickly, but GreenBean has decided that I am his person, and any attempts to convince him otherwise have been pointless. So while we aren’t quite ready for the adults, we have learned to long line. He has grasped (and thoroughly enjoyed) long trot sets in the woods, enjoyed some bareback strolls, and learned that curiosity is better than running from scary things. We have schooled at horse shows, and have lead changes (most of the time).
The three-year-old that I bought, thought maybe I regretted, needed to get him to a point where he was at least marketable if he wasn’t right for me, and has now settled himself right in my heart, has taught me infinitely more than I have taught him.
He showed me that I need to remember to slow down and truly listen. When I wasn’t getting the result I wanted, was it because of defiance or because he simply did not understand, or physically could not perform, the question being asked?
Learning to watch for the change in his mindset, from “freeze or flee” to “how can I help you”, is when the growth can begin. Some days that switch in mindset is super obvious, and some days it can be as small as an ear twitch. My job is to recognize when the change happens and let him know that the change in his willingness is the only response that matters.
All of this is incredibly important, not just with horses, but with life. The single biggest thing I’ve learned (and the thing I’m betting my kids wish I had learned decades ago) is that my role isn’t to keep things from being hard. My job is to give the tools to handle the hard things when they happen. I have spent so much time and energy trying to prevent them from experiencing “tough stuff” that I have often stood in the way of them figuring it out. Whether that is me feeling GreenBean slowing down at the trot and adding leg before he walks, or nagging my child to do their homework so they don’t get a bad grade. Neither of those choices on my part allows the other to understand their own choices and consequences.
In that way, GreenBean was indeed exactly what I needed to learn what I didn’t even know I didn’t know. Life is funny like that!
