Connection

On the day I finally went out to meet Greg, I got completely lost. It was the 16th of March, 2009 and I had forgotten to print out instructions for my trip.I was very early in terms of my ETA and though I was right in the area I still couldn't figure out where to go.

I have, and I don't mean to boast, a really spectacular memory for things I've read or seen. I remembered Greg's email with all of the directions but it didn't make sense from where I was at all. I called his number but there was no answer - typical of 'barn people'.

Out of desperation to be almost on time, I called my desk-bound friend Garnet and got him to log into my email account and guide me in. I/we made it to the meeting only a few minutes late in the end...

Of course, when I talked to Garnet I had to explain what I was doing lost in the northwest corner of Abbotsford and tell him about where I was going and what I intended to do there. Garnet, god bless him, thought that it was awesome and signed on to making sure that I made my connection. Like everything he does in life, Garnet did a great job of getting sh** done and made sure that I was where I needed to be in no time at all. Much love to you G - you helped to make this connection happen.

I had arrived at a new place in my life, with a little help from my friends.

Garnet hates having his picture taken so I'm not sharing any images, but you can get to know him at :

www.garnville.com *parental guidance in full effect, seriously.

Making Advances

In March of this year I finally decided to stop lurking about and make contact with New Stride. I chose the number for the volunteer coordinator that wasn't long distance, in hopes that that might equal a shorter drive to where the horses were. Here is what transpired:

Hi Marcy
Thanks for your interest. Just running out the door this morning but will communicate soon. All the best
Greg

On Fri, Mar 13, 2009 at 5:27 PM, Marcy Emery wrote:

Hi Greg,

Sorry I missed your call today, I was out in the garden trying to get a few things done before the rain comes back. Anyway, I'm glad you suggested email- it allows me to be long-winded without seeming overly obnoxious (or at least I hope it does)! As a frequent visitor to the New Stride website (just dreaming at this stage) I've become more and more interested in volunteering with you as a way to spend time with horses, improve my skills and make a difference in some small way.

I started riding again last year after several years away from the sport and the animals and wasn't sure my body could take it, though I knew my heart was willing. I started riding for fun as an eight year-old kid in Manitoba and went on to Pony Club, hunter/jumper, eventing and eventually studied classical dressage with Frank Grelo in Cedar Mills, Ontario. Like lots of young girls with big dreams, I ran out of money about the time I went to university. Back in those days (the 80's), almost all the horses I rode rode were thoroughbreds- the warmbloods were just beginning to come to the fore at that point- and I owned or leased about half a dozen during my serious riding career. Then, as now, there was never any shortage of great horses looking for a new life off the track.

In 1996 I had just lost my Mom and closed my business and was looking for an in-between-jobs kind of job. I lived in the PNE area and had heard that the track was always hiring experienced horsepeople, so I went down to see about a job. I ended up being hired as a groom and worked most of the season there - I got sidelined by a shoulder injury in the fall and was too sore to work safely. I worked for two different trainers, one good and the other highly questionable. At any rate, I was disappointed that I wasn't fit to finish the season as I had one horse in particular (the nastiest, most likley to end up as Alpo one in the barn) that went to the Winner's Circle with me once before my season was cut short. I'm sure we both look shocked in that photo!

Anyway, I've seen both sides of the thoroughbred world and I'm not going to judge anybody. Racing will continue and so will the equestrian sports. I will say that I'm sorry that thoroughbreds (and homegrown ones at that) have lost a bit of their sparkle since the warmbloods took over, but that doesn't mean that good horses can't have great careers or great lives outside of any kind of Winner's Circle.

What I'm good at, and what I could offer, is quality time one-on-one with your horses. This could be anything from simple handling, grooming and groundwork to schooling under saddle. My approach is relationship based and I'm willing to work to gain trust and to establish a positive relationship with a horse from the ground up.

One of the best horses I ever rode, a Manitoba thoroughbred, broke my arm the day I was taking him out of the pasture and back to the barn for training (he kicked me when we were trying to load him onto the trailer). I had six weeks in a cast and had to just spend time with him on the ground getting to know him and getting him to trust me. That year we were third overall in the province at our level. It was a lesson I haven't forgotten, and the best possible thing that could have happened. Time really heals and patience is essential.

At the moment, I lease a horse in Richmond at Riverside Equestrian. I ride there Tuesdays and Thursdays casually - I don't do lessons or showing, just hacking mainly. The little horse I have there is a bit of a spaz- very easily frightened and in need of a confident rider. He's a good boy really and he can't help that something about every little sound sets him off. We're working on that and mostly just having fun. I'm also getting back into shape and geting used to the touchy, twitchy, nervous mount riding that I was used to back in the day. It's amazing what you remember. I don't jump at this point as my knees are questionable and the most serious of my training is in dressage which poses more challenges anyway. I am happy to ride on the flat, though I do have a background in jumping.

I'm not fussy about what I do for you- I don't have a giant ego about being the next great trainer or rider at all. I'm nearly 40, my body has its limits and there's no point in trying to gild the lily. I am happy just being around horses. My work schedule is slightly unusual in that I work from 4:30am -12:30pm Monday, Tuesday and Thursday. At this point., I'm available Monday afternoons (I ride at Riverside Tues. and Thurs.) and also a bit on the weekends. I live in East Van, so would ideally like to go no further than Langley - but I'm a soft touch, so try me.

I will be in Langley next Monday for a fitting with Lynn Saunders. I told her I'd be there around 2pm and shouldn't be more than an hour with her. I'd be happy to come out and meet you afterward if that suits you-just let me know where to go and I'll head over when I'm done.

You can call me over the weekend or just email me back here. I am going to help the girls at the barn with the Southlands Playday show this weekend so will be in and out Saturday and Sunday. Hope we can meet up next week and make plans!

Thanks so much,
Marcy

The Golden Link

In Kundalini yoga, which I have practiced on and off for the last ten years, there is a mantra called the Adi Mantra which is chanted to connect practitioners with 'The Golden Link' of teachers who have passed their teachings throughout time and to the knowingness of the teacher within each of us, I draw my title from this.

Dante and I worked through the winter and worked through our issues, horse and human. I got into better shape and got back in touch with what I knew I knew. You see, I am very fortunate when it comes to encountering great teachers in horsemanship. I don't think I even realized this until I started back with Dante and had to examine my entire back-catalogue of knowledge for answers and ideas.

As a young Pony Clubber in Brandon, Manitoba I found myself in the company of Mr. Robin Hahn, who gave riding clinics regularly there in the fall and winter. I could never have afforded these clinics myself, but I was allowed to audit them as a groom and general stable hand. Pretty sweet to a very keen 12 year-old!

Robin showed me how to roll bandages and put them on properly and was always very friendly and outgoing with me, he even came out to see the mare I was riding and gave me a lesson for free.

I re-set dropped rails and swept up and basically did whatever he asked of me while soaking in everything that he was teaching the clinic participants. I dreamed of the day I would be able to pay to attend a clinic as a full-fledged student and set my sights on becoming an eventer just like Robin.

In 1985, my Mom and sister and I relocated to Milton, Ontario. Ten minutes down the road was Halton School of Equitation, at which I immediately became the student of Auriel Halliday. Auriel was magnificent and English and glamourous. I rode in her intermediate group and she very quickly singled me out as a part-boarder for her own semi-retired A-Circuit Jumper, the spectacular Witchy Woman.

She also got me a job teaching summer riding camp through the YMCA (when I was underage no less) and basically did everything she could to help me ride and compete on a very limited budget. I adored her and learned everything I could about hunter/jumper and equitation under her tutelage and that of her wonderful mare.

At Halton, I became acquainted with the beginner instructor, Paulette Legault. Paulette taught my younger sister, who absolutely loved her (as did all her students). The other barn Paulette taught at was Cedar Mills Riding School and, knowing I was mainly interested in eventing, she suggested that I come out to visit as it was a dressage school.

Through Paulette, I was introduced to Master Frank Grelo, who is pictured at the top of the page below his own great Master. Frank studied classical dressage under Nuno Oliveira, a Master of Masters and certainly a huge figure in 20th century dressage. Talk about a Golden Link...

Fate and circumstance led me to move to Cedar Mills as a student of Frank's and to begin a working student program there at the beginning of 1987. I was 15 years old and again, underage. The agreement was that I would attend high school in town and work at the barn riding, training, giving lessons and caring for horses (in my case the recently landed broodmares from Portugal). That all sounds a little nuts in retrospect, but I think my passion for horsemanship was pretty convincing to everyone around me, including my Mom and Frank, and they let me go and try my hand at it.

Like a typical teenager away from home and running a bit wild, I didn't exactly make the most of my time at Cedar Mills. Despite this (and I've had a hard time forgiving myself for it too), I learned more there than I could ever have imagined. Frank's way with horses could be filed under what we now call 'Natural Horsemanship', though it's Classical Dressage in the Portugese style and not the cowboy way (the two are not so dissimilar though).

I soaked it all in and despite any teenage distractions, learned more than anyone would have thought possible, including myself. Frank taught me to think about the horse first, no mean feat for a man trying to engage a girl not quite sixteen. However, it got through and has stayed with me always. When I ride today, I still hear Frank's voice in my head guiding me and telling me where to move and how to tune myself in.

At the time of this post, Frank's website is down. This makes me kind of sad, since I love to visit that particular dream. When it is restored I will share it with you here since you might also like to go there to dream. I bet you will...

The Divine Comedy

December came and I embarked on my journey with the lovely Dante. Because I am prone to getting all mystical and strange, I even took it as a good sign that the horse chosen to teach me to ride again shared a name with both a legendary writer and my young nephew.

Dante is, of course, one of the most noted writers on spirituality ever. I am not a Catholic, but what little I have read of Dante transcends religion and crosses over to the spiritual- which anyone can understand provided they allow that sort of thing in their lives.

The Divine Comedy, Dante's three-part poem in long form, begins with The Inferno, or a journey through Hell in the first-person. It's a journey which begins in the' middle' of the narrator's life oddly enough.

So I met with Dante (the Equine) on my way through a rough spot that, while not quite H-E-double hockey sticks, was close enough to count.

If you've been through Hell, then you know that Purgatory is a huge leap forward, whether you are Catholic or not. Purgatory is the part where you can start making sense of it all. You get the lay of the land, you reflect on what you know and what will bring you closer to your goals. You make amends and you plot your course for worthiness of admission to the next level, which is Heaven.

Purgatory hurts, but it feels alot better than where you came from. You are confused, you are sore, you feel weak and lost and it never seems to end. Horse or human, you feel it all.

Dante and I met in that space, and I credit him with leading me out of it. My only goal with him, at the outset, was to tune myself up again. Selfish entirely, and also unrealistic. I forgot that it wasn't all about me and that I had to work to form a connection and a partnership with this spooky and somewhat reticent little horse in order to make it to the next level.

Though I wasn't exactly graceful as a rider, I did my best to be quiet and kind and to trust my instincts and my horse. Every time he heard a noise and bolted I had to tell myself to just ride it out and stay calm; my job was to show him that everything was okay and that I wouldn't put him in danger and to understand that he wasn't intentionally trying to make me feel afraid or hurt me.

In showing me who he was and what he felt unreservedly, Dante led me out of Purgatory in a very short space of time. His sensitivity and awareness tuned me into my own. We bumped around together in the arena - sloppy, weak, scared, unsure - and finally met each other somewhere in the space shared between a dubious equine and a skeptical human. Once that connection was made I felt like a better rider and he seemed to gain confidence and enjoy our rides more.

Dante obeyed the laws of camping and left me much better than he found me. I agonized over letting him go when the time came to do so.

Getting to 'yes'

The fall of 2008 moved on and I quickened my pace a little with the searching for reasons why I should leave the horse thing alone and setting up roadblocks to make sure that I did. "It costs too much". "You don't have time". "You're too old - your body won't hold up". "You've forgotten everything anyway". "You'd never be any good at it again, if you ever were in the first place".

Yes, I am a master of derailing my own train. If anybody else said any of those things to me I'd be up out of my seat in a heartbeat prepared to go kick some a** and take some names. But hey, I've never claimed to be, um, entirely well-adjusted...

My beautiful boy kept trying to encourage me to go for it - to find something, ANYTHING to get me excited and inspired and maybe moving out of the work/bitch/moan/sleep/work again rut. My life was all about work and it was making me and everybody else miserable. I love what I do on a certain level and I've worked very hard to get where I am, but being "career oriented" is not what I was doing at all- it was workaholism and totally unhealthy. Every time the poor boy tried to talk to me about it I tore a strip off him and told him to run his own life. I also never said I was always nice, for those of you keeping score.

I got a little tipsy one night and started looking around craigslist for horse-related content. If you've spent any time on CL you will probably agree that alot of people use it when they've had a couple of drinks, but that's an observation that isn't entirely relevant to the business at hand here. So anyhow, on this particular evening sometime in late October/early November I came across an ad for riding lessons at a stable in Richmond, about a 20 minute drive from my home and my office both.

Being a little emboldened by the red wine, I fired off an email reply to the post stating that I was interested in getting back into riding, had a fair degree of experience, did not want to take lessons, didn't know if my body could take it and would they have anything to offer someone like me or know where I should go if they did not, etc. I hit 'send' and then spent the next day or two hoping that the email would bounce back and that my lack of judgment wouldn't find me at some barn in Richmond signed and mounted up within a matter of minutes.

The telephone response to my call came in the afternoon, two days after my email. A woman named Linda who owned the barn called me and said that they had lots of options outside the lesson stream and several horses that I might enjoy. I booked a time to go out to be assessed and then set about trying to find ways to cancel. I didn't breathe a word of this to The Boy since I was sure it would be going nowhere, though I also didn't cancel and even went so far as to go buy a new modern helmet just in case.

The appointed hour arrived and I found myself here:

http://riversidestables.ca/

Riverside is a beautiful facility, certainly the loveliest in Richmond and one of the best in the Lower Mainland. It's in a great location and it has a wonderful atmosphere, which is something that can be very hard to find in serious Hunter/Jumper barns. You know from the minute you walk in that it's well-run and topnotch in every aspect. Very, very professional and also very down to earth - this is quite an achievement in my experience.

Linda and I had a nice chat about what I had in mind and what Riverside could offer. I told her flat-out that I was pretty worried about my knees not being able to take the strain. I have patellofemoral syndrome:

http://www.healthlinkbc.ca/kbase/topic/special/tp22235spec/sec1.htm

caused by all the riding I did as a young person. It's worse in the winter, but I've only ever had one episode where I was incapacitated by it. This was brought on by carrying heavy boxes up and down steep stairs. I had no idea what might happen if I started riding again regularly, especially in the winter but I wasn't optimistic that's for sure.

Linda asked me if I wanted to do an assessment that day and I figured I might as well capitalize on the opportunity since I'd kept the appointment and packed my chaps, boots and new helmet. There was some discussion amongst the staff as to who I should ride and the final word was that I should try Dante because "if she can ride him, she can ride anyone".

Dante turned out to be a little chestnut Arab/Appy mix with a sweet face and a kind eye. Not necessarily "my type", as I tend to prefer larger, lankier horses and this boy was 15 something and pretty, um, round. Oh well,I thought, I'm looking for ways to get out of this so let's get on with it.

I groomed and tacked and fiddled with the boots - "which way does this go again? Oh right... see I told you you wouldn't remember any of it" - then headed to the arena for my assessment. Angela, one of the instructors, told me to expect that Dante might be a little sensitive to noise and we commenced our lesson with Linda in the ring teaching one of her young jumping students. I certainly knew i was being watched.

Angela put me through my paces which I found excruciatingly difficult. My comment to her was "my muscle memory has Alzheimers" (no offense to anybody who is living with this disease - I fully understand its gravity). My brain knew exactly what to do but my body just couldn't respond to the cues. I felt clunky and messy and not at all on my game.

Despite the un-showiness of my body, etc. I thought things were going along pretty well. Dante wasn't exactly finely tuned, but then again, neither was I- he bore with me and didn't seem offended that I wasn't exactly graceful and concise in my seat and aids. I found myself leaning down to pat him and thank him repeatedly for being such a good sport about it all. He did a couple of little bucks in the canter transitions, which I attributed entirely to my sloppy seat and figured were fair.

At a certain point, we passed the big sliding door at one end of the arena - the scary end for Dante apparently, because each time we rode into it he tensed up and got antsy- there was a loud sound from the shedrow as we entered the top corner and he was off like a shot. I lost a stirrup in the take-off but had him back in hand at the opposite corner anyway, despite fishing for my inside iron to try to recover. I found myself laughing and asking Angela if I had passed. The body still knew how to deal with that sort of problem apparently, which I took as a very good sign.

When I was sufficiently sweaty and absolutely sure I'd be unable to walk the next day, Angela let me off the hook. Linda had seen everything and didn't say much about my skills, which was a relief. On a scale of 1-10, with 10 being awesome, I was about a 2. She told me the price of a half-lease and asked if I'd be interested. I said yes and that I'd be ready to start December 1st.

A challenge had been issued and I wasn't going to turn away from the chance to ride a horse that would whip me into shape mentally and physically in short order; even if he wasn't necessarily my type, Dante would be kind about my issues and totally honest about his own.

Driving home that night, I was seeing stars. The little bolt episode had caught me off guard and left me behind enough that I had a bit of whiplash. For the next week, I was in pain all over and could barely turn my head. I lived on Advil and the thought of beginning a new chapter in my life with horses. I wasn't going to back out unless I was crippled.

About three days before my half-lease was to start I started to feel better and could even turn my head well enough in both directions. It was time to begin...

Thanksgiving

Sometimes things take a really long time to percolate through. From stalking ex-racehorses on the internet for months to having a low-key epiphany on the trails, life just went on. And on and on. Funny how we find comfort in the same old, same old even when it feels bad. *Hey, wasn't there a question about that on the mid-life crisis survey thing?

Suddenly, it's Thanksgiving 2008 and there's people to see and food to eat and a whole lotta wine to get the percolation process shifted into a higher gear.

It's endlessly fascinating to me to step back a little and see how life has this amazing way of connecting all the dots for us. Right now, where you are and who you know and what you've learned and thought and felt is probably all coming together somehow for you and in a way that you might be able to anticipate but could never necessarily expect. I know this to be at least a little true because I keep seeing the dots connecting in my own life.

At the top of the page you see my dear friend Rosanne. We met because I was in the process of becoming a florist. I had a friend who had a friend with a flower shop that ran a seasonal garden center and needed somebody to manage it that year. That friend happened to be Rosanne. I interviewed for the position and probably got the job due to the friend-of-a-friend connection as much as anything else.

I worked in the garden shop and later the flower shop and then went off to school to make my commitment to the florists' trade official. All along, I wished that I didn't have to have the employer/employee relationship at the forefront of my interactions with Rosanne, but it was a necessary evil to some extent.

You see, Rosanne and I have oodles in common. Love of plants, animals ( I will feel eternally blessed by my relationship with Bob and Gertie, the Bennett-Van Kampen cats), food, wine, creativity, skinny husbands/boyfriends who do graphic design and love photography, and above all horses. I liked her the moment I met her - Rosanne Bennett always gives a fabulous first impression.

Sooner or later the dots all connect. By Thanksgiving 2008, I was an independent operator sitting at the dinner table talking with my good friend Rosanne and her husband and a lovely group of people who were getting quite philosophical due to all the wine. Rosanne and I talked horses extensively and what came out of that (aside from a wee bit of a hangover)was my own realization that I was serious about getting back into horses and specifically, working with Thoroughbreds.

In the sober light of the following day I felt a bit bad for trying to bully my girlfriend into spending part of her upcoming sabbatical year helping me re-make racehorses into show or saddle horses. I make a very good argument, especially if you give me red wine. The main thing was that I heard myself say it all out loud and, in talking about it, started to piece things together.

Because Rosanne is just such a good friend, she never gave me hell about any of it...she just followed my progress and gave me encouragement whenever it was needed. Rosanne Bennett, you are 100% awesome.

The Internet Oracle

I wonder now how we ever survived without Google (this from a person who didn't have email until 1999 no less). The Internet Oracle can take you just about anywhere you want to go and dream. You don't need to commit to anything, nobody knows you're there looking and you can visit the places you like as often as you like with a click or two.

One of the places I really liked to go and dream at was:

www.newstride.com

This started in the spring of 2008 when the old Oracle decided it was time to reveal this to me. There's no ticker on the site to show how many hits they've had, but if there was one you could chalk a couple thousand of them up to me. I might even be the high score, which I'm not the least bit embarrassed about.

Whenever I felt a bit low or helpless I just went to look at the horses for a bit - the electronic equivalent of leaning on the paddock fence. It felt good to get to know them and really good to see them adopted out and filed under 'Success Stories'.

Thoroughbreds hold a very special place in my heart. Once I graduated from my little Quarter Horse pony (14.2 with shoes on if I wanted to move up to the horse classes), I mostly rode Thoroughbreds. Honey Maid, Whistling Yacht, Barney's Flash, Witchy Woman - all standout mounts who made my junior years exciting, successful and sometimes even a little scary, especially for my poor Mom. These horses taught me to ride. They were fantastic athletes, coaches and partners.

Wherever there's a racetrack, there will be TB's waiting to find out if they get a second chance at a career away from the track. Some of them never make the grade, a few get hurt and have to quit, some run successfully and retire after long careers. I have no idea how my old friends fared as racehorses but I know that they were all tremendously successful at showing an eager little girl what it means to truly have 'heart'.

Are you argumentative?

Nobody likes to have their conclusions drawn for them. There were a lot of arguments in my household about why I shouldn't do this horse thing. I lost them all.

I like to think I came up with the idea on my own, but I was nudged towards it by a highly creative person. That is my concession , I'm still a prideful beast.

The Breaking Point

Last September, The Boy (yes, he's a little younger, but I got him before the aforementioned MLC set in and not from a high school either) and I took a little holiday up country. Our destination was his Mom's place and boyhood home in Williams Lake. Fresh air, sunshine, some hiking and general r and r were on the agenda.

Over the years I've always booked riding into my holidays, so I scheduled a long ride on a ranch around 108 Mile for this trip. The Boy is not a rider per se, he just happened to be along with the camera. His comment to me afterwards was something along the lines of "you look really at home on a horse". Out of the mouths of babes...not kids, just cute adult men in this case.

It was a sleepy sunny-day trail ride all in all. I rode the "experienced rider" mount (which loosely translated meant 'will attack other horses and also move out when asked'). When I say that I almost fell asleep I mean that in the best of ways - I hadn't felt so relaxed and at peace in ages.

At the rest point I chatted with the guide and listened intently to her story of falling in love with the mare she was riding at the ranch to guide trails. The two made a very nice pair out on the trail and though the mare was a bit of a handful her young rider never let the group see her sweat. The girl felt they just clicked, and hoped sincerely that she could make the horse her own. We talked about showing and the difference that a real connection makes to the horse and rider relationship. Horse people talking horses almost never have a casual conversation.

For me, the sleepy trail ride turned into a bit of an awakening. Talking horses and really allowing that side of me to tune in and turn on felt absolutely right. I don't know if the girl and the mare ended up together after all but I do know that I went back to Williams Lake and slept better than I had in ages.

Reasoning with Age

Okay, so people laugh at me when I call myself a middle-aged woman (is the nice way to say that really "cougar"?) or say that I'm having a mid-life crisis. Look, I don't feel old or even necessarily look it most days but a little simple math has led me to the conclusion that I am most likely middle aged. Here's how that works inside my mathematical super-computer of a brain:

My Mom lived to be 55.

Her Mom lived to be 95.

55+95= 150. Divide that by 2 for an average of 75.

Divide 75 by 2 again and you get 37.5 years, or what could be called the exact middle of my life, which is right about now.

Anyway, that seems like pretty basic reasoning to me. It also felt, when I first worked through the problem, like a big push to get moving in my life and do something that really mattered to me and made my life feel a bit more meaningful than simply chasing money, success and security.

I like all those things, don't get me wrong- at the big buffet table that is this life I will taking heaping helpings of all three and go back for seconds if there's any leftovers. However, I could sit and gnaw on these things all day and night and still always feel hungry. Paradoxically enough, it reached a point last year where I felt much more like money, success and security were eating me - alive.

So what exactly is a mid-life crisis? Most of us all know a story about somebody's Dad who ditched the family, got an earring and a Camaro and a 25 year-old girlfriend and generally became an object of ridicule in town, etc. (while probably also being secretly admired by some of the other mid-lifers for his free spirit, awesome ride , hot girlfriend or new Rod Stewart hairdo). Anyway, most people, myself included, view the idea of a mid-life crisis as something that sits somewhere between mildly embarrassing and downright disgraceful. We form these impressions without ever attaching a firm definition to the whole concept.

Here's what the Internet Oracle threw at me about mid-life crisis symptoms today.

http://www.personaltao.com/tao/midlifecrisis-signs.htm

You can go there yourself and read the whole thing - I'm going to copy and paste the symptoms here and answer them right in front of you. Then we can all decide if I'm allowed to say I'm having a mid-life crisis, m'kay?

The following is a list of symptoms mixed about to illustrate how defining a mid life crisis is relative to the person experiencing the changes.

1. Looking into the mirror and you no longer recognize yourself. * I look a bit tired, but otherwise the same old me...

2. Desiring to quit a good job. * Oh yeah.

3. Unexplained bouts of depression when doing tasks that used to make you happy.*Yep.

4. Changing or investigating new religions, churches or new age philosophy. *I read both Eckhart Tolle's books - does that count?

5. Change of habits. Activities which used to bring pleasure now are boring. Unable to complete or concentrate on tasks which used to be easy. *Yep.

6. It feels good to get hurt. *Not physically, no.

7. A desire to get into physical shape. *Absolutely.

8. Irritability or unexpected anger. *Cranky, bitchy and sometimes just mean.

9. Change in allergies. *Worse this year, yes.

10. Desire for physical -Free Flowing- movement (Running, Biking, Dance, Fast red sports cars, Sky diving, etc). *I suppose galloping on horseback counts, right?

11. Exploring new musical tastes. *I listen to new country now. And I like it.

12. Sudden desire to learn how to play an instrument. *Nope.

13. Sudden interest in drawing, painting, writing books or poetry. *I'm still working on my first oil pastel masterpiece that I started this winter...

14. Shifting sleep patterns (Typically to less). *Definitely.

15. Thinking about death, wondering about the nature of death. *Not much more than usual.

16. Changes to the balance of vitamins you take. Or taking dietary supplements for the purposes of extending life. *Nope.

17. Extreme changes to what you eat. *Does being recognized at every drive-thru window near where I work count? I guess it probably does.

18. Excessively buying new clothes and taking more time to look good. * Hahahahaha

19. Hair changes. (Natural changes in thickness, luster, color or Assisted changes in dying hair suddenly or shaving your head bald) *Nope.

20. A desire to surround yourself with different settings. *Very much so.

21. Hanging out with a different generation as their energy and ideas stimulate you. *I like old people a lot more than I used to but I totally don't get most people under 30.

22. Restarting things, which you dropped 20 years earlier. *Oh yes.

23. Upset at where society is going. Experience a desire to change the world for the better. *I bet I could survive off the grid if I had to. Yep.

24. Feeling trapped or tied down by fiscal responsibilities. *Ugh, yes.

25. Leaving (Mentally or Physically) family or feeling trapped in current family relationships. *Heck yes.

26. A desire to teach others or become a healer. *100%.

27. Desiring a simple life. 110%.

28. Excessively looking back to one's childhood. *Not really, no.

29. Playing again just to play! * Is "playing" what happens when work is fun?

30. Keep re-asking yourself: "Where am I going with my life?" *#1 with a bullet.

31. Getting fixated on new "wonder" solutions to problems. *Probably not.

32. Recently experiencing something extremely stressful. Stress can trigger a Midlife transformation. Some examples include: Changing Jobs, Divorce, Death of someone close, Chemical/Toxic exposure upon the body or experiencing a major illness.
*Hmmm, stress is so close to me I can't identify it. Funny that.

33. Doing things that get you into trouble when it surprises everyone as being out of character. *I'd say no.

34. Someone unexpectedly exclaims: "You are going through a midlife crisis!" *So far I'm the only one who's said that but I wasn't expecting to come to that conclusion.



"A Midlife crisis is often the attempt to restart life to better fit a person's heart. Due to existing personal commitments, it often isn't easy to self resolve the inner conflict a person feels. As a result many times a person in mid life crisis will act confused or lost while trying to sort out the contradictions they feel in their life".


So, I'm going to conservatively estimate my affirmative responses at 22 out of 34, or roughly 2/3rd's mid-life crisis affirmative. I still don;t know exactly what a mid-life crisis is, but it looks like I might be having one so I'm just going to go with that, m'kay?

Setting the Stage

This is Regal. Or 'Regal Spacific', to be accurate. For those of you into bloodstock:

http://www.pedigreequery.com/regal+spacific

Not a whole lot on paper other than that famous sire, but an individual with a story vastly more interesting than my own.

It doesn't matter that you can't really see him in the photo or that I can't really show you all the things I'm going to tell you about. This boy hasn't even seen himself yet, so what's revealed at the moment is just a trailer for the big movie anyhow. The ending is still being cut... Also, the pictures of the past as I understand it and experienced it will probably do just fine unillustrated....

This is me – or in the interest of full disclosure, this is me just over three years ago. I was 35 at the time and fresh out of trade school. After bumping around in the world for a while and trying to figure out what to do with my life I chose to become a florist. That is nowhere near as therapeutic as it sounds.

For those of you who like a backstory, here’s the Reader’s Digest version:

Once upon a time, I had a very glamourous and well-paid job that was allegedly highly creative and decidedly all about people. It was fantastic and it nearly killed me. At the last possible second, I summoned all my remaining strength and jumped off the train. I rolled for a very long time and woke up in a heap in another city. Once I dusted myself off, I collapsed again and didn’t do much of anything. I couldn’t seem to connect with myself or anyone else, which was actually fine on some levels. I was especially worn out by people.

Creative people are entirely adrift when they don’t create. In my ‘lost years’ I did a lot of cooking, I raised a puppy, I gardened and I vegetated. When I finally mustered the courage to go be creative again everything got really crazy. I went off to do a dream project that I somehow managed to turn into a nightmare. It turned out okay in the end... Cryptic, yes, but all you need to know for the moment.

Anyway, whenever I have deep trouble in my life, horses come in to move me to safety. As hippy-dippy New Age as that sounds, it’s entirely true in my experience. Or it’s the Disney-fied version of a truth. I suppose I can’t prove anything because I don’t have a lot of pictures to show you.

Anyway, horse people like a good horse story – here’s one of a few that may or may not connect down the line…