tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-73635588777576124682024-03-13T09:40:25.891-07:00The Zebra GirlAn Old Soul Living in a Black and White WorldUnknownnoreply@blogger.comBlogger43125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7363558877757612468.post-34097489062159129142014-05-04T11:00:00.000-07:002014-05-04T11:00:02.308-07:00Should Have Been Goodbyefinger to invisible shutter,<br />
<div>
our joy trapped in the frame.</div>
<div>
a last moment- </div>
<div>
maybe our very best.<span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"> </span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">the final verse</span></div>
<div>
in a love song</div>
<div>
we should not have begun.</div>
<div>
the dust floating down the shafts of light</div>
<div>
and the hum of the coffee pot upstairs</div>
<div>
should have been the only witnesses</div>
<div>
in the morning after haze.</div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">still tangled in sheets and sleep.</span></div>
<div>
you never would have heard <span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">the third step's creak;</span></div>
<div>
the only whisper</div>
<div>
of my should have been goodbye.</div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7363558877757612468.post-75341545417780946532014-05-03T10:00:00.000-07:002014-05-02T20:27:07.297-07:00Long Distancedays tick,<br />
<div>
the phone clicks.</div>
<div>
you flake,</div>
<div>
i shake.</div>
<div>
by omission you lie,</div>
<div>
and secretly i cry.</div>
<div>
we self medicate,</div>
<div>
our friends commiserate.</div>
<div>
where is the romance</div>
<div>
in long distance?</div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7363558877757612468.post-54841902040274924582014-05-02T20:13:00.001-07:002014-05-02T20:13:43.056-07:00Bareback Canterfingers woven to my white knuckles<div>in his multicolored mane,</div><div>carried only by what ties his bones together.</div><div>he leaps,</div><div>and for a moment my heart floats </div><div>until again his hooves press the ground</div><div>in a familar waltz.</div><div>to the powerful rhythm</div><div>years unwind slowly</div><div>from my tired body.</div><br><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-kz7t_qjiJRY/U2Re5PyHDxI/AAAAAAAAAFk/AzIMzMRAaEU/s640/blogger-image-264888832.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-kz7t_qjiJRY/U2Re5PyHDxI/AAAAAAAAAFk/AzIMzMRAaEU/s640/blogger-image-264888832.jpg"></a></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7363558877757612468.post-48221676833522006062014-03-01T10:36:00.001-08:002014-03-01T10:36:21.552-08:00first wordsyour lips crack open,<br />
voice husky,<br />
raspy<br />
from last night's booze<br />
and cigarettes.<br />
<br />
"i love you."<br />
<br />
the words slip,<br />
sink<br />
into the hot air between us,<br />
and draw me back<br />
from the solitude of sleep.<br />
<br />
"i love you, too."Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7363558877757612468.post-25358494927791880382013-08-29T11:24:00.004-07:002013-11-21T12:18:29.636-08:00Coming AliveThe first time I turned Z out in the pasture, I made sure I was the only person at the barn. I was predicting failure at being able to bring him back in so I did not want anyone around to say, 'I told you so'. So, after our hack and a bath I turned him out in the front pasture and I retreated back to the barn to prepare for a week of camp.<div>
<br></div>
<div>
A couple hours later, I called Z's name from the gate. He lifted his head and started ambling toward me. I am not sure I was breathing, but I started talking to him as I grabbed the halter and started walking to meet him. I reached out to pat his neck and he did not flinch or tense. Instead, he lowered his head towards the halter. (Now, I wished everyone in the world was there watching!)</div>
<div>
<br></div>
<div>
So, for the rest of the week this was our routine. I would take him out in the mornings and bring him back in in time for dinner. He was still going out by himself, but at least he was going out! He was eagerly greeting me in mornings, and again in the pasture. In fact, he would hear me talking to people at the barn and he would start nickering.</div>
<div>
<br></div>
<div>
All in all, this was much more progress then I was expecting, and in barely three weeks of days spent together spread over a summer. I was exhilarated. Z was connecting with me, and he had connected with the kiddos. Our rides were going well, and he was getting to go in and out of the pasture. I guess, in a lot of ways his life had transformed back to the better days, but I had not expected him to transition to quickly or easily.</div>
<div>
<br></div>
<div>
My second to last day in town, I came to the barn early and turned Z out with the herd of school horses for the day. After a week of coming in and out, I was hoping he had settled into a routine and would be willing to come back in with the herd when I came back to ride in the evening.</div>
<div>
<br></div>
<div>
Z was not in the pasture when I drove up. But before I could ask anyone, I was greeted by an excited employee telling me that Z had let her bring him in from the pasture. I was shocked. (This same employee had tried for months to bring him in not too long ago...) A kiddo hanging around asked if I was upset that someone other then me could catch Z. I told them honestly, 'Absolutely not. I am thrilled.' And I was. In order for Z to move forward in his life he needs to be able to connect with all sorts of people and be willing to form new relationships. Not only would this be healthier for him, it would ensure a safer future for him living in human world. </div>
<div>
<br></div>
<div>
The other employee, not to be outdone, turned Z out the next morning and brought him in for dinner. The days of Z being 'uncatchable' and difficult' appear to be slipping into history. And I am even more thrilled to report that in the two weeks I have been back at home waiting for Z to move, he was been going out with the school horses every day.</div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7363558877757612468.post-71366610568611629092013-08-24T08:17:00.001-07:002013-08-24T08:17:37.030-07:00Lighting UpI bounced back and forth this summer between my home and where Z lives. We both waited for the offer, and then the acceptance, and then the paperwork and then the logistics. But I did know that I was not in a rush to uproot him to my home. He has lived most of his life at one barn with the same people, I know in his mental state any sudden changes could spell disaster for our trust.<div><br></div><div>So, every time I was in town I made a point to spend time with Z. The first day I went out to catch him I was unsure of what to expect-I had heard so many stories. He ignored me when I approached and entered his stall. I waited and reached out to touch his shoulder. HIs whole body went rigid and he leapt from beneath my hand. His reaction was violent. He watched me as I gently explained my intentions and tried again. Within moments he lowered his muzzle into the halter. I have to admit I enjoyed the collective gasp when we walked back into the barn together!</div><div><br></div><div>I started riding him too. Lightly, softly, and slowly. He goes in a bitless bridle and I worked to break his habit of tensing, curling, and running while remembering that he had barely been ridden in years. He seemed to settle and stayed calm for our entire rides.</div><div><br></div><div>When I returned after an absence to teach a camp, I was greeted eagerly by Z with a wicker. That was a special moment. I decided maybe he was ready to join the world again. So, I asked him to come be our model for pony parts (this involves a herd of children and stickers). He was happy to come in the barn and stood waiting in the cross ties. </div><div><br></div><div>When the herd of TWELVE (a lot of noise, energy, and motion) children came around the corner of the aisle I watched him <b>light up</b>. His posture changed and he seemed to grow an inch or two. His ears came up and his eyes became soft and alert and he lowered his head to greet the approaching stampede. I was speechless and excited as he stood patiently while the stickers and children went everywhere. But the best part was he was engaged! He had again lost that sour look and was curious and attentive with the kiddos. </div><div><br></div><div>People ask me why I continue to teach and train. It's not actually for me, or the kids, or the money. It's for the horses. If I can make one horse's journey on earth a little easier, then I have done my job. And that day the horse was Z.</div><br><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-_17hw9Nv0Ls/UhjOj_JrcTI/AAAAAAAAADo/87zj1Ih772k/s640/blogger-image-1388166124.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-_17hw9Nv0Ls/UhjOj_JrcTI/AAAAAAAAADo/87zj1Ih772k/s640/blogger-image-1388166124.jpg"></a></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7363558877757612468.post-57719390283746111002013-08-23T10:39:00.000-07:002013-08-23T10:48:10.489-07:00Z's New Girl<br>
<div style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0976563); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(191, 107, 82, 0.496094); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969); font-size: 18px; line-height: 24px;">
<div style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969);">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">My Girl</span></div>
<div style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969);">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br></span></div>
<div style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969);">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">i could feel the center of her crumbling;</span></div>
<div style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969);">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">that place that held warmth</span></div>
<div style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969);">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">and her laughter.</span></div>
<div style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969);">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">she no longer moved with a girlish and carefree spirit,</span></div>
<div style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969);">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">she clenched her teeth against the tears</span></div>
<div style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969);">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">and she began slipping away from me.</span></div>
<div style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969);">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">i could not find my girl</span></div>
<div style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969);">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">in the angst enveloping us now.</span></div>
<div style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969);">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br></span></div>
<div style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969);">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">i have carried her so far.</span></div>
<div style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969);">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">through seasons,</span></div>
<div style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969);">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">over so much ground,</span></div>
<div style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969);">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">i knew how to follow where she leads</span></div>
<div style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969);">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">but i did not know how to carry her back to before.</span></div>
<div style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969);">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">so i did my best to follow.</span></div>
<div style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969);">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">maybe if i could hold some of the new pain,</span></div>
<div style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969);">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">she would stay close to me.</span></div>
<div style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969);">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br></span></div>
<div style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969);">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">now the blood in me moves too quickly</span></div>
<div style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969);">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">and pounds in my ears.</span></div>
<div style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969);">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">i can hardly stand the wait for her,</span></div>
<div style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969);">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">but the in-between is stretching longer.</span></div>
<div style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969);">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">there are so many days she never comes at all</span></div>
<div style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969);">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">and the center of me is crumbling.</span></div>
<div style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969);">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">so i clench my jaw against the emptiness</span></div>
<div style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969);">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">and i slip away too.</span></div>
<div style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969);">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br></span></div>
<div style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969);">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">A little context for this poem: it's about a horse. A very special horse. A horse that is the newest addition to my little family. I am not the girl he is referring to, but I'll start at the beginning of the story...</span></div>
<div style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969);">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br></span></div>
<div style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969);">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Z was 3 when he was brought home as the first horse for a girl named M. They learned everything together and were inseperable. Z was M's whole world and she was the center of his universe. And together they grew up.</span></div>
<div style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969);">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br></span></div>
<div style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969);">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Then, M's parents went through a horrible, public, humiliating, and vicious divorce. As M's world began to crumble, she changed. Suddenly she was angsty and angry and Z took the brunt of the change-he had lost his girl. So Z began to change too. He became difficult to be around and ride, and he spent his spare time cribbing. </span></div>
<div style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969);">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br></span></div>
<div style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969);">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">But things were going to get worse. Z could not take any of the pain or hurt away for M and so she fell into other things. She stopped coming to the barn. Z spent his days being sullen, detached and focused on the rush of oxygen that made him feel 'high'. He sat alone in the pasture because no one but M could catch him. </span></div>
<div style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969);">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br></span></div>
<div style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969);">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Fast forward almost two years...</span></div>
<div style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969);">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br></span></div>
<div style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969);">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">I fell in love with him the moment I saw him. He's distinct, beautiful, and athletic. And M refused to let me near him. In her still out of control world-he was still under her control and while she did not want him she would not give it up the little bit of power she still had. But eventually, a transition to college led to a 'For Sale' sign over Z's head.</span></div>
<div style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969);">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br></span></div>
<div style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969);">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">What options did Z have? Untouched and difficult he would not find a good buyer easily. Most likely an auction to pay the debt and then a rough cowboy who liked his paint color and would fight him until he gave in. </span></div>
<div style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969);">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br></span></div>
<div style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969);">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">I could not bear the thought, so I stepped up. I payed far too much money to buy a horse who may or may not be catchable or ridable they said. 'He's a jerk, he'll never change'. But now Z has me and I refuse to believe a word they say.</span></div>
</div>
<br>
<div class="post-footer" style="border-top-color: rgb(204, 79, 22); border-top-style: dashed; border-top-width: 1px; margin: 10px 0px 0px; padding: 10px 0px 0px;">
</div>
<br><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-SiYmVCMkHXA/UhegWNKf8_I/AAAAAAAAADY/uSPCRl-i0JA/s640/blogger-image-350841466.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-SiYmVCMkHXA/UhegWNKf8_I/AAAAAAAAADY/uSPCRl-i0JA/s640/blogger-image-350841466.jpg"></a></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7363558877757612468.post-47199011064631230442013-08-22T09:56:00.001-07:002013-08-22T09:56:34.196-07:00Wildfiresmoke curls through the air between us,<br />
illuminated by rays of light.<br />
you are shrouded and blurred from view.<br />
<br />
they say where there is smoke,<br />
there is fire.<br />
<br />
a billowing haze blows across the late summer moon:<br />
muting the reflection of crackling reds and oranges<br />
as a wildfire roars through the mountains.<br />
<br />
where there is smoke,<br />
there is fire.<br />
<br />
i search out the river of your eyes,<br />
will i see on the edges the flickering of flames?<br />
or have they been buried by the smoldering cinders?<br />
<br />
where there is smoke,<br />
there is fire.<br />
<br />
i wonder if you will ever let me be the hot wind,<br />
whose breath flows down through the valleys<br />
to blow away the suffocating smoke and carry the flames ever higher.<br />
<br />
where there is smoke,<br />
let us be the fire.<br />
<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7363558877757612468.post-10473323558893029252013-06-30T13:18:00.001-07:002013-06-30T13:18:13.012-07:00The Pit Bull and the Zebra, Part 2While I can readily admit that I was unprepared to bring home my new friend, I cannot say that I expected that a Pit Bull had so much to teach a zebra.<br />
<br />
I am a flight animal. He is a bully breed. <br />
<br />
We are both judged for not responding appropriately in situations. We are both expected to be ways we cannot be because it is not in us. <br />
<br />
But unlike me, he will only get one chance. One chance. I tease him sometimes that he should make sure he saves it for a good one. Like an ex-boyfriend or a mountain lion. <br />
<br />
But it's not really funny when someone growls at him and he growls back. It is then that I use all my zebra flight to get to him as quickly as possible. He does not need to defend himself-I'm his pack leader and I'll do that. I'll take care of everything and all he needs to do is follow me.<br />
<br />
While I can argue my own independence, it is rare that I am in charge of anyone else's. It could be argued that I do that with the horses but I think they are more removed from 'people' world then my dog. And I'm never 'in charge'. I'm much better off along for the ride...(Pun intended) After some time with me they return to their herd and their own space.<br />
<br />
But the Pit Bull counts on me every minute of the day. And while I do not resent it, I sometimes wonder if I am qualified to be his pack leader. (As I write this his front nails are painted Mint because he seemed so intrigued about toe-painting time that I decided to include him...) And maybe that would be okay if he was a little dog or an old dog or a golden retriever...<br />
<br />
This Pit Bull is the first creature to teach this zebra about taking ground. About protecting her own. For the first time, this zebra might be protective enough to unleash some of that lion killing aggression. For the first time this zebra is not only a flight animal, she is a fighter.<br />
<br />
If you would have asked me almost a year ago if I thought that having a dog would help me learn to me more of zebra I would have told you you were crazy. I got a dog to protect the zebra! And while I have little doubt that he would if the situation called for it, it is this zebra who carries that responsibility day in and day out.<br />
<br />
<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7363558877757612468.post-33651548388142341472013-05-23T08:38:00.001-07:002013-05-23T08:38:33.571-07:00My Girli could feel the center of her crumbling;<br />
that place that held warmth<br />
and her laughter.<br />
she no longer moved with a girlish and carefree spirit,<br />
she clenched her teeth against the tears<br />
and she began slipping away from me.<br />
i could not find my girl<br />
in the angst enveloping us now.<br />
<br />
i have carried her so far.<br />
through seasons,<br />
over so much ground,<br />
i knew how to follow where she leads<br />
but i did not know how to carry her back to before.<br />
so i did my best to follow.<br />
maybe if i could hold some of the new pain,<br />
she would stay close to me.<br />
<br />
now the blood in me moves too quickly<br />
and pounds in my ears.<br />
i can hardly stand the wait for her,<br />
but the in-between is stretching longer.<br />
there are so many days she never comes at all<br />
and the center of me is crumbling.<br />
so i clench my jaw against the emptiness<br />
and i slip away too.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7363558877757612468.post-29869976994290058772013-04-10T12:28:00.001-07:002013-04-10T12:28:29.319-07:00HopeHow do you believe<br />
after it all has been spent<br />
on the hope before?Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7363558877757612468.post-8160157043283419872013-02-17T16:33:00.001-08:002013-02-17T16:34:49.166-08:00The Pit Bull, Part 1I was prepared for questions when I fell in love with a Pit Bull. I was prepared to explain all about MY dog. I'd done my research about breeds and dogs, but more importantly I spent time with him and the family that was giving him up. How I considered his age: three and how that meant his personality was fully formed. He'd been neutered on time, at six months. How he'd been raised with a kid who he loved and owners who had taught him things the things he needed to know to live with people and then a baby. How I watched as the kid poked him and took his toys away and how gently and attentively my dog played with him. And how he'd lived with another dog and been a frequent visitor to parks and other dog friendly places. And even how we had gone to the park and met lots of different dogs and how he was very well socialized and sweet and playful. How he loves to be active but in reality he is a low energy dog who is content to be company while I study. Those were the questions that I was prepared to answer. Plus, I was sure that his wagging tail, big smile, and good manners would answer any that were left.<br />
<br />
It turns out I was, in fact, very <u>unprepared</u> when my new best friend came home.<br />
<br />
I did not know that I would have to take a definite stance on the 'Pit Bulls vs. Society' debate and be prepared to discuss is frequently. And, that that stance should be that all Pit Bulls are awesome (because my uncle had a friend who had a sweet one, etc...) and people who don't know that are bad. However, I had and continue to have a slightly different opinion. I actually think that you have to be very careful. People attracted to Pit Bulls are often attracted for the wrong reasons and they will buy dogs from breeders who have bred irresponsibly. And that poor Pit Bull-as a direct result of the people in its life, may in fact fit exactly into the stereotype. I blame people and I blame them completely. The lives of the animals in our care is not something I take lightly, and I do not ever downplay that belief. EVER. So, I actually do not want to discuss 'The Great Pit Bull Debate' with everyone who sees I have a Pit Bull just because you think I automatically agree with you. (<u>Especially</u> when I think you are a careless, irresponsible dog owner who got a Pit Bull because you think it makes you look cool.)<br />
<br />
I was unprepared for the looks and judgement I would get from other people. Not just the surprise that a shy, blonde, graduate student has a big muscly dog; but the negative expectations. For example, the woman who demanded my dog be on a leash at the dog park because he was dangerous. When in reality after getting to know him, people rave about how sweet and well behaved he is and he is often greeted by name. I never expected that after being bitten on the shoulder by an off-leash lab on the on-leash walking trail, the owners would make a passive comment about how,<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>'He's a Pit Bull, he probably deserved it.'</i></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
And then not even apologize. My dog was walking calmly beside me! What exactly did he do? I was aware there was a stereotype, but I did not know how prominent or intense it was or how forcefully I would feel it. </div>
<br />
I definitely never expected that I would start making the decision to steer away from Pit Bulls at the dog park and other places, after multiple bad experiences. And I'm a person who knows that it's not the breed that is the problem! It's interesting that that very judgement that annoys and angers me when I see it directed at my dog-I actually participate in! How do I blame people who steer their dogs and children away from my dog? I did not know that having a dog could get so socially complicated.<br />
<br />
I was at the dog park two days ago with my dog and his friend. As they were running and playing, in walked a couple with two Pit Bull type dogs-one male and one female. I did the judgement scan, and decided I would get closer to my dog and get his attention in case I wanted to move along. (For the record, I am probably over cautious and maybe over-protective of my dog with ALL other dogs. Both for my own and other people's comfort as well my dog's safety...) The two dogs approached my dog and he greeted them politely with a wagging tail. They all seemed fine, so I let things be. About 15 minutes later, the male chased my dog away from the group and started to snarl and try to hump him. I called my dog's name and ran towards them. I heard my dog say, 'No' with a matching growl/snarl sound and an attempt to get out from under the other dog. But the dog came at him again and then again. Sort of without thinking, I screamed my dog's name and grabbed him as he came towards me and pushed the other dog away. My rationale? The best way to prevent dog aggression is to never let it happen. This was a situation asking for trouble because the other dog was not leaving my dog alone after he had said no. I want my dog to say 'No' and have it be heard-he should never have to get aggressive to get out of a situation. At this point, you might wonder where the other dog's caretakers might be. They were watching. They did nothing. Still holding onto my dog I asked them to call their dog away so we could go somewhere else. This was the response: <br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>'That's why you come to the park-to let them fight. They'll figure it out.'</i> </div>
I could feel my own dander come up at his response. He just shrugged and said,<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>'Some people have different opinions, I guess.' </i></div>
Oh, you bet I do! And my opinion is that you are exactly the kind of person that should not have a Pit Bull and maybe not any dog! But my very calm response was;<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>'My dog has ONE SHOT, because of his breed. ONE SHOT at life. And the best way to prevent dog aggression is to <u>never</u> let it happen. Never let it be an option.' </i> </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
We left quickly after that, but I continue to fume about that experience. I am not an expert on dogs, and I hardly think that I am always right. But I am an expert on my dog and I am his human protector, and I am not about to be careless with his life. </div>
<br />
I was not prepared for the fact, that when I fell in love with a Pit Bull I would be 'going to bat' for him almost everyday. I did not know that I would have to get involved in the great debate and that suddenly I would feel a responsibility to the entire breed. Or that I would have to identify with Pit Bulls everywhere; even when I try my hardest to constantly do right for my own sweet, cuddly, 'killer' with my own decisions, and his training and manners. I never expected that such a wonderful dog was going to need a full time defense team. <br />
<br />
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7363558877757612468.post-80896383406636930922013-02-10T08:00:00.000-08:002013-02-17T14:07:06.876-08:00you are that day<br />
a muddy day falls between winter and spring.<br />
roll the windows down to breathe the sweet fresh air.<br />
once that warm day has been felt,<br />
been tasted;<br />
there is no falling back into winter.<br />
i am pulled from the past into the future.<br />
<br />
you are that day.<br />
that sunny, muddy, sweet, in-between day.<br />
<br />
<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7363558877757612468.post-5054646443438042212013-02-09T07:30:00.000-08:002013-02-17T14:03:57.112-08:00Horseswe are driving through tiny towns,<br />
quietly watching Montana summer roll by.<br />
my bare feet on the dashboard.<br />
<br />
'you always look back at horses?'<br />
you ask with that smile i will love.<br />
'yeah, i do.'<br />
not even knowing i had been.<br />
<br />
'guess i'll get used to that.'<br />
you say,<br />
more to yourself than me.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7363558877757612468.post-32877326320506069842013-02-07T19:11:00.002-08:002013-02-07T19:16:15.972-08:00Happinessi am watching you take confident steps back towards me,<br />
up from the banks of the frozen river.<br />
<br />
i can feel the joy wrapping around my heart.<br />
feel the warmth soak into our matching smiles.<br />
<br />
but this feeling will never be mine to hold;<br />
not matter how hard i dream.<br />
<br />
some happiness is not meant to belong.<br />
it can be felt just passing through.<br />
<br />
today belongs to the land beneath our feet,<br />
and frosty breath in the cold air.<br />
<br />
this happiness belongs to you.<br />
you alone and all on your own.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7363558877757612468.post-43818478618416952322013-01-13T08:10:00.002-08:002013-01-13T08:10:42.782-08:00All of My Days<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.youtube.com/embed/Y-VQXTN1m60?feature=player_embedded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div>
<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7363558877757612468.post-68081776391489091312013-01-11T15:39:00.000-08:002013-01-11T15:39:00.063-08:00TrustI have been pondering the idea of trust. What it looks like and what it feels like.<br />
<br />
It's funny, the opposite of trust is mistrust. But is it really? When I think of mistrust, I don't feel it anywhere in my body. For me, it feels more like fear (always back to that). When I don't trust something I am afraid of it. I do not trust that log across the river, and I'm afraid to fall in. <br />
<br />
I trust horses. Isn't that silly? We are separated by a language barrier and limited ways (?) to communicate. But I trust them on my own, I trust them with the kids, and I trust them about themselves. <br />
<br />
But why? <br />
<br />
Honesty. They are always honest. They have no capacity for lying and deceit. So, if I'm paying attention and listening the best that I can to them I have no reason for doubt. <br />
<br />
But trust is not lazy. I trust because I'm listening and paying attention, and I never forget that they are horses and they can be strong, fast, and unpredictable. Trust is communicated.<br />
<br />
Of course I think of Holly. She is wild at heart. I should mistrust her because of her nature. But I trust her too. I trust that she will be honest and true. I trust that she will be a wild zebra. I hope that she trusts me as well. Does she see the same honesty in me? Does she know that I am always listening to her and looking out for her? How do I communicate that trust to her? And do I communicate trust to others? Do I even trust people?<br />
<br />
I believe that I am trusting by nature. But I do not trust blindly. I trust the good in people, but I am on guard for that danger always. However, I know that I look for dishonesty and often I believe in it's existence without any proof. <br />
<br />
Wait...If I seem to assume dishonesty exists then am I really trusting?<br />
<br />
If I am feeling an absence of trust in a relationship, I should be paying attention to the lack of honesty. Maybe in them. Maybe in me.<br />
<br />
And so, this contemplation ends at this: Honesty is trust. The absence of trust, for me, is fear. Trust is not accomplished, it is communicated.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7363558877757612468.post-7063907319439781312013-01-10T15:08:00.003-08:002013-01-10T15:08:54.550-08:00Woven (2006)<br />
<div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">
Woven together,</div>
<div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">
Hurt and Joy,</div>
<div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">
Tears and Laughter.</div>
<div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">
I'm not always Honest,</div>
<div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">
but I'm not always Pretending.</div>
<div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">
I'm not always Happy,</div>
<div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">
but I'm not always Sad.</div>
<div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">
I walk that line between living </div>
<div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">
and dying.</div>
<div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 15.0px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">
If you wait a little longer,</div>
<div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">
you'll uncover the scars. </div>
<div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">
I covered them the best I could,</div>
<div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">
and locked away the truth.</div>
<div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">
I wasn't always Invisible, </div>
<div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">
In trying to make it through,</div>
<div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">
I got lost.</div>
<div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 15.0px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">
If you delve a little deeper,</div>
<div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">
You'll discover someone,</div>
<div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">
You didn't expect.</div>
<div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">
You'll see everything woven together,</div>
<div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">
with more Honesty,</div>
<div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">
and lots more Love.</div>
<div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 15.0px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">
But just stand back there,</div>
<div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">
and pretend you never saw.</div>
<div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">
"It's hard enough already."</div>
<div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">
Just treat me like a girl,</div>
<div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">
You passed on the street.</div>
<div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">
You don't have to love me;</div>
<div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">
but why not let yourself care?</div>
<div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 15.0px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">
I Laugh and Joke,</div>
<div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">
I Dance and Sing,</div>
<div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">
I Love and Care.</div>
<div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">
I Plan and Work,</div>
<div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">
I Talk and I Dream.</div>
<div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">
I'm not Poison,</div>
<div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">
and I'm not a Curse.</div>
<div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">
I'm just a girl,</div>
<div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">
With a little strand of everything </div>
<div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">
Woven together.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7363558877757612468.post-71744413318578838102013-01-08T21:37:00.001-08:002013-01-08T21:37:16.063-08:00After.She stumbled out and waited. She waited for her skin to stop holding her together and for her bones to crumble. She waited to shatter into a million tiny pieces and fall to the asphalt beneath her feet. She choked and wheezed on the cold air. But she did not crumble. She did not shatter. No part of her even seemed broken. And so begins the after.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7363558877757612468.post-2370471516448826032012-12-09T10:43:00.000-08:002012-12-08T10:44:28.009-08:00Joy<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.youtube.com/embed/bZt6DyFOvno?feature=player_embedded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div>
<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7363558877757612468.post-68587901587728137302012-12-08T10:38:00.000-08:002013-02-08T18:42:14.457-08:00first snowhot black coffee<br />
splashes on the linoleum floor.<br />
we're all in a rush.<br />
<br />
hats, gloves, and boots.<br />
the swish of bundled bodies<br />
shoving their way out the door.<br />
<br />
the first snow blankets the ground.<br />
enough to build forts<br />
and soak through my shoes.<br />
<br />
you pull up<br />
in the smell of exhaust and cigarettes.<br />
and cold air.<br />
<br />
you're smiling<br />
as you trudge up the sidewalk.<br />
i'm hoping you're smiling at me.<br />
<br />
and then the snow starts flying.<br />
laughter echos in the stillness.<br />
everyone is a kid today.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7363558877757612468.post-56081124115095547092012-11-12T09:11:00.001-08:002012-11-12T09:11:54.548-08:00PressureI was having relationship trouble and I was talking to my mom about it. I will never forget what she said:<br />
<br />
<i>"Remind him you're just like a horse; you move away from pressure."</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
I do not think at that point that I had ever considered that part of myself. And definitely not in a way that I could explain to someone else. But in that moment, and many moments since, it has continued to make perfect sense to me. And in many ways it remains a core truth of my experience of myself.<br />
<br />
The catch is that pressure seems to carry a lot of negativity. We feel pressured to be perfect, do our best, make everyone happy, do the right thing, or pressure is what makes us crack or break. Pressure implies that there is something internal or external that expects or wants something from us. Too much pressure is unbearable but no pressure is considered comfortable - 'No pressure, whatever you want!'<br />
<br />
Internal pressure is a feeling I am familiar with. I have a drive to be perfect, never let anyone down, keep everyone around me happy, do everything just right, look good doing it, and the list goes on. I will be the first to admit that it can be exhausting. I am slowly learning to recognize when the pressure I place on myself about something is out of my control and when I need to let to let the 'right answer' go. However, the internal pressure have is also one of my greatest strengths. I am not someone who does anything half-heartedly. The pressure I place on myself internally is what defines who I am in the world. The pressure puts my passion to work and creates a drive to always be learning, growing, and changing. Being able to recognize when the internal pressure serves me and when it is breaking me is important.<br />
<br />
External pressure feels like a whole different game. I don't own that pressure, I can just feel it. It's harder to reframe, harder to understand, and harder to judge the intention of. I have however, become more and more accustomed to what it feels like to be sensitive to the pressure around me and react accordingly.<br />
<br />
The last time I was at the ranch, a young man in our group volunteered to be an example client in front of a very large group of observers. When asked what he wanted to talk to the horses about he shared he had some questions about his current relationship. I could feel the crowd creeping closer to catch every word both he said and to catch every detail of my grandmother's facilitation of the experience. When I looked to the horse he was sharing the experience with-our lead mare Be, she began to walk away from the crowd and I felt her saying, 'Come on kid, let's go.' For me, that moment felt private for Be and the client and the pressure of the listening ears felt rude. So, I simply stayed back in the field and waited. It is not a judgement of those who followed Be and the client, but simply the awareness that I did not need to. <br />
<br />
In many ways I use pressure as information about any given situation. It's the sensory device I use to determine safety and underlying experiences. And that very well may be a skill I learned from Holly. If you want to see pressure in action just watch someone who is focused and determined to meet Holly. Their pressure can feel predatory and Holly won't come near. Just staring at her can be too much. And when it is she leaves the situation. Flight. She moves away from the pressure. I have in many ways adopted this defense mechanism as well. However, I have come to learn that in human experiences escaping pressure can be more complicated.<br />
<br />
When Holly escapes from pressure she moves into more space and the threat is gone. It can only come from so many places or people or creatures. Escaping pressure in the human world is more difficult. It can come from multiple angles with many intentions and then there are social expectations that make just leaving the physical situation unacceptable or often ineffective. And hiding from things - literally or physically, is not a habit that is good to depend on. And you can trust me on this: I've tried many variations of escaping pressure both ways and rarely has it made me feel safe or in control. (Here comes that fear again...) And because of these experiences, pressure has become something that I am almost terrified of and it will drive me to the very edge looking for an escape.<br />
<br />
But I think I finally discovered my defense. The answer is not finding a faster way out, or avoiding everything all together. Instead, it is standing my ground. <br />
<br />
TERRIFYING.<br />
<br />
I stood my ground in the face of questionable intentions and a lot of pressure. I had to stand my ground for days. And it was uncomfortable, painful, and scary. And I was accused of being many other things. But at the end of it I didn't feel afraid or ashamed or weak or afraid like I do constantly running or hiding. I feel secure and confident. Safe.<br />
<br />
After processing this experience I realized I was not giving Holly enough credit. She is a zebra, after all. A fierce and confident zebra who could, if given the chance, could break a lion's jaw with a kick from her hind feet. I felt lion-like pressure and I responded with all my zebra strength. And it worked! That is a empowering feeling. Suddenly, external pressure doesn't feel like an impossible challenge. I can feel it in my gut, gauge my response, and if it feels negative or predatory I have more then flight as an option. And I have more strength then I thought.<br />
<br />
Even though this discovery happened far away from Holly, I would be foolish to ignore her role in it. I know that soon I can share space with my zebra sister and I will tell her all about that time I ran into a lion and lived to tell the tale. But I can close my eyes right now and picture her with of her tail and stomp of her foot whispering to me, 'Well, of course you did! You're a zebra.' <br />
<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7363558877757612468.post-50367513248946678412012-11-11T22:55:00.001-08:002012-11-11T22:55:55.769-08:00<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-sQrFKgOzApU/UKCdbaQCt0I/AAAAAAAAABo/KsGt8-FeH-A/s1600/hollysnow.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear:left; float:left;margin-right:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="200" width="150" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-sQrFKgOzApU/UKCdbaQCt0I/AAAAAAAAABo/KsGt8-FeH-A/s200/hollysnow.jpg" /></a></div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7363558877757612468.post-70635053948780889702012-11-11T22:41:00.000-08:002012-11-11T22:41:19.720-08:00it's snowing'it's snowing.'<br />
you whisper.<br />
i jump from beneath the blankets<br />
to see the white floating down,<br />
silently. magically.<br />
the air is cold.<br />
i giggle.<br />
crawl back in<br />
and kiss your shoulder.<br />
slide my leg through yours.<br />
'it's my favorite day of the year.'<br />
i whisper back.<br />
<br />
'it's snowing.'<br />
the text message says.<br />
your first words to me in months.<br />
no whisper.<br />
no touch.<br />
far away from you,<br />
it is just bitter cold and windy.<br />
no magic.<br />
'not here.'<br />
i say back.<br />
<br />
i wonder if you're remembering too.<br />
how much i love the first snow.<br />
and how much i loved you.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7363558877757612468.post-66071604638820883272012-10-27T12:26:00.001-07:002012-11-11T22:41:36.964-08:00Broken Girlyou thought i was pretty.<br />
and i needed your smile<br />
and gentleness.<br />
<br />
i've watched you love me<br />
unconditionally.<br />
desperately wanting to do the same.<br />
<br />
i'm not sure i can let you go.<br />
but you can't hold me forever.<br />
it's better this way.<br />
<br />
your arms held me together,<br />
and your hands held back my hair.<br />
that's what you get for loving a broken girl.<br />
<br />
what did you expect?<br />
baby,<br />
that's just what you get for loving a broken girl.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0