The Beginning

I wanted to give you a little backstory of my life through the lense of horsemanship.

 Growing up I never owned a horse without physical or emotional baggage (or a combination of the two). 

Boo hoo, I know how that sounds. Ungrateful. On the contrary, I am extraordinarily grateful for these horses who taught me lifelong lessons of horsemanship, patience, timing, and more.

My first horse was named Duke. He was a 24-year-old retired warmblood show horse and he had a lot of physical baggage. His poor old body was worked so hard and for so many years carrying his riders over jumps and on fox hunts. He was such a good boy and wanted to do well for me, but his body just would not allow it. 

I half-leased Duke from an owner of a bed and breakfast a few miles down the road from my childhood home in the Pocono Mountains. I will never forget trying to ride my bike in feet of snow to get to the barn and break buckets thick with ice, and soak his poor decaying feet. He had so many physical woes it was a full-time job just to keep up.

The Middle

It was a similar story for most of my horses. Those who were younger and not yet physically distressed typically came from a situation where they developed a variety of behavioral issues that plagued them and their previous owners. 

Runaway horses. Bucking horses. Rearing, biting, kicking, skittish, defiant.

You name it – I experienced it. When I was young I desperately wanted to be like Scarlett Johansson in the Horse Whisperer – connecting with them on a soul-deep level, but I lacked the guidance and tools necessary to obtain such a relationship.

That way of thinking was the same reason these emotionally traumatized horses came to me in the first place. I could have (and should have) done better. My parents, though incredibly supportive of my horse habit, were not horse people. We were all pretty much at the mercy of whatever horse trainer I was with at the time, and their knowledge too was limited by the scope of what they knew.

It wasn't until I met a woman named Marcia (who is still my best friend to this day) who in seeing my dedication to the horse demanded that I deepen my understanding of both the horse and myself.

Over the course of a decade my life completely changed.

I discovered my self-worth, uncovered an ability to communicate with horses the way they communicated with each other, and eventually started “free riding” which is riding a horse without a saddle or bridle or any physical restraints. 

To anyone who asks I tell them it feels akin to the way The Avatar Movie portrays the blue men riding those horse-like creatures. When they entwine their hair and are able to communicate by their bodies and thoughts. Embodied mindfulness at its finest.

Today

My most humbling experience to date was the newest addition to my herd: Finja.

Three years ago I decided I wanted a fresh start with a horse who was not yet started (most people call this “un-broke” or “broke,” but I abhor the context of those terms and prefer to use “started” or “un-started”).

I wanted to do everything myself from the beginning, the only baggage being that which she naturally came with and ultimate what our relationship creates.

I went down to Aiken, SC to a prominent Westphalian breeder’s farm to look at an older gelding when I decided to have a look in the mare pen. In this pen were over 40 fillies ranging in age from 2-5 years old. Immediately I locked onto Finja.

She was minding her own business in the corner munching on some hay and she turned to look at me. Unlike her fellow herd mates who were all over us the second we entered the pen, licking and nibbling at us incessantly, she did not come over to see us and instead happily watched from afar as the little ones continued to maul us.

There was something about her that I just could not shake.

I dreamt of her for days and after much deliberation decided to purchase this young mare without ever having worked with her whatsoever.

Fast forward three months and I have a flying filly. Finja has so much spirit I am beside myself with what to do with her. After unsuccessfully trying to put her into full time programs with other trainers the universe was making it clear that this was going to be my job and nobody else’s.

Standing straight up on her hind legs was her go-to move if she did not want to do something which scared the sh*t out of me. It is such a humbling feeling to look up at hooves flying high above your head. Slow and steady, day-by-day, we worked together and began to earn each other’s trust.

Today, Finn and I are P.I.C. I can ride her in the ring and on the trail, by herself or in a group. We trailer all over to ride in new places. We are doing many gymnastic dressage movements and she continues to surprise me with her natural ability and athleticism.

She comes galloping to me when I whistle.

And she is the most physically affectionate horse I have ever had the honor to share space with.