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I had an experience a couple of years ago, (summer of 2000), in which I had a thought about how everyone looks at things differently. I was on vacation with my family and a close friend who went with us to Galveston Texas. There was this stable on the beach just outside of town where they had horses you could rent by the hour to ride up and down the beach. I remember being really excited about getting to ride a horse, with the braking waves on one side, and the endless mounds of grassy sand dunes on the other.
The horse I chose was a big, beautiful mare named Forest. The sky was spotted with white puffy clouds, and out in the gulf, there were larger thunder-storms, rumbling and flashing, which only added to the magic of the experience. I remember the sound of the waves, the calling cries of the sea gulls searching from above for food, and the sound of the sea breeze in my ears as Forest galloped quickly ahead of the group, as if she knew some special place she wanted to show me. I could hear her hoofs pounding the wet sand, the creaking of her leather saddle as I stood high in the stirrups, and her strong snorting breath as she ran along, causing the ghost crabs to scurry for the safety of their sandy burrows.
I was the first one to leave the stables, and the last one to reluctantly return, over an hour later. I can't even explain the feelings I had as I hugged Forest good-bye, just before they lead her off for water and shade. I know she could feel how much I loved her. I could see it in her eyes as she turned her head around to look at me one last time before disappearing behind the old weathered shed she called home.
We stayed there at the stable for some time after our ride, resting, and getting a bite to eat before returning to our motel back in town. While mom fixed us some sandwiches, me and my friend sat on a split-rail fence next to where they brought the horses out for mounting. I watched family after family drive up, pay their money, and climb onto the back of their horses before riding down to the breaking waves and on up the beach.
My friend and I watched the different ways that individual people would react to riding a horse. Some were nervous, but bravely used what they had to figure out what to do. Some would be scared to death, clinging desperately to the saddle horn as they bounced along. Others would be obviously amazed with the whole experience, petting their horse, and looking with wide eyes at the world passing by at a slow trot. Still others would fuss and complain about the heat, and flies, and strange smells, or anything else they could think of to bitch about. Some would actually fall off their horse, and refuse to climb back up again. And there were a few who, no matter how many times they fell off, or got moving in the wrong direction, refused to give up on what they came for.
I remember this one family... a mom, two small kids, and a father who was crippled from the waist down. I watched the determined father abandon his wheel-chair as he struggled to climb into his saddle from the large wooden mounting platform, and then bravely ride his horse out to the open beach with his nervous wife trying to watch her kids, her husband, and still deal with her own horse riding all at the same time. I watched as shortly into their adventure, the father lost his balance and tumbled to the sand below. His horse automatically stopped, and waited for the man to climb back up..... but he couldn't. The oldest child, a boy about 10, quickly jumped off his horse and ran to his dad. The mom, holding on to their younger daughter in the saddle with her, could only look on with confusion and worry. Then another rider rode up and dismounted to check on the fallen man. A stable worker saw what happened, and headed out onto the beach to pick up the man and bring him back. But the man wouldn't give up. He asked for a little help to be able to reach the saddle horn, where he then pulled and struggled to lift himself up on top of the horse, and eventually back into his riding position. With happy yells from his kids, and a big smile of relief from his wife, they then continued on with the rest of their hour of magical freedom.
We were just leaving as I later saw the family riding slowly back to the stables. I could tell that the man was tired, and ready to get back to the comfort of his wheel chair.... but there was a smile on his face.... I'm sure for his victory.
I became a little more brave that day, from watching the determined efforts of that father. Of all who I saw, he was not nearly as handicapped as many others on the beach that day.
As we drove back to the motel, I sat quietly looking out through our van widow at the ocean, the sand, the clouds, and all the horseback riders along the beach, and I thought to myself..... isn't that the same way life is.
Peace and love to all.... and happy riding....
Garith
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