Voices from The Tribe of Horse

Find us and other Voices at Feedspots Top 100 Equestrian Blogs, which you can access via https://blog.feedspot.com/equestrian_blogs/

It is such an honor to have virtually met some awesome members of The Tribe of Horse through From The Heart of a Horsewoman blog.  Now, with the bigger audience that comes with being in Feedspots Top 100 Equestrian Blogs we have an even larger audience.  Awesome!!!  In my last blog entry I shared an article by Sara B. Willerson, LCSW entitled Even the Horses are Speaking – Are You Listening.  I know some of us are listening Sara!

This posting is highlighting the contemplative blog of DawnSeeker/DawnHoof.  I have been following her inspiring reads for a year.  I will let her speak of herself.

 

 

The Life of My Dreams . . . I Believe in Magic :))

SoulHorseRide

Ah, the frailties of our human Lives . . .

How do we know if our Life will work out?

How do we cope with the hand Life seems to deal us?

What do we do about uncertainties???

“Do you believe in Magic? (Like the Lovin’ Spoonful song from my 60s childhood.)

I have to say, I do!”  DawnHoof

Rainbow StatueReflections . . .

Twenty eight years ago, something wonderful happened — Starboy, my Horse-of-a-Lifetime, was born, in my arms, outside my dome house, up a canyon, in Malibu.

Yet that same night, twenty eight years ago, something awful happened — my (then) marriage fell apart.

chicks preening

So much uncertainty. So many questions.

How were my two young daughters and I to make it? How would I feed and care for all the horses? How would our lives work out???

Mentor LookingFlash forward . . .

To tonight — Starboy’s twenty eighth birthday…

View original post 502 more words

A Student First, Second, Always

Long before I was a teacher I was a student. From the first breath shared with a horse, I was enraptured. It became my mission, in whatever level of maturity I lived, to learn all my limited mind and bottomless heart could encompass about the horse. My early teachers, guides and horse friends were books. Margaret Henry, Walter Farley, C.W. Anderson, Margaret Cabell Self, Mary O’Hara, Will James, Dan Muller; famous and obscure, factual and fictional, I read everything related to horse.
My first riding teachers included Del Gonzales, Andy Ruiz, Dr. McCormick and Western Horseman.

Obie (short for Obnoxious) was a donkey, my first equine.  He gave me his full friendship.  I was young ( 11 years old) and inexperienced enough to laugh when Obie chased my little brother out of his personal space.  We wandered the dirt roads around our home, jumping little branches in the road.  He was everything I needed and wanted.  I could easily hop onto his back.  I think that is what gave me the confidence to vault onto a horse and ride a bare back.  Our honeymoon was short lived.  The family returned one night, actually one early morning, to Obie’s bellowing welcome.  I think my parents envisioned lights coming on in every house bordering our short dirt road.  They rehomed him within week.

My greatest teacher was Champagne Lady. She taught me to be light, sensitive and honest. To this day I am in awe of the quality of horse who was my first. Her training was far beyond my experience, but she taught me with the help of human guides. She was my ground and the expression of my spirit from age 14 through 18.  I did not own a saddle until I was twenty-five years old.  Everywhere we went we were bareback.  We galloped along the surf of Topanga Beach, traversed the PCH to George’s Market, tracked Topanga Creek and even once ventured up Topanga Cyn Blvd. to The Center, my friend riding her horse and my brother riding double with me.  My friend now says “What were we thinking?”  Right?  Sometimes you just have to find out it’s not the smart thing to do by doing it.  I wish I had photos of those years.

For five years I was side tracked by motherhood and marriage. When I came back to horses it was as a teacher as well as a student.  Many years, many changes, and I am still learning.  I learn from friends with whom I share the horse experience, I learn from former students, I learn from other’s exploration into the horse/human relationship, but mostly I learn from the horses.

What are your stories of your first explorations into the horse/human relationship?

 

A Creation Story

First it is an imperceptible movement within the vast infinite sea.  Then it is a thought, then it is desire which becomes a passion, an irresistible urge rising out of the depths of all possibilities, a place beyond the limits of imagination.  It pushes and heaves and in a mighty burst birth breaks through the crust of manifestation.

Horse-Rider dripping foam and froth of birth, rises from weightless space of thought into weighted gravity of matter.

Atmosphere presses against body.  Organ crushing unrelenting clamp causes a compulsive whole being inhalation – the in breath of incarnation – now a created concrete beingness, Horse-Rider emerge as one from the sea, riding the momentum of immensity from which it emerges, not yet fully formed, not yet landed.  The heave and roll and undulating current of sea moves it steadily toward shore.   With the force of a cosmic fist driving knuckles first into the wavering seam of creation, Horse-Rider is thrown into manifested life.

Weight, unrelenting weight of matter.  No longer one, but two; Horse and Rider.  Standing in stunned senses, froth of amniotic soup and blood drips and pours from nostrils, ears, eyes, skin, submerging them in a fountain of their own creative fluids.  Another wind blast intake of air fills every internal cave and crevice, lungs and heart open, expand, pulse in separateness, two hearts, two beings.

Horse lowers his head and snorts at the blood spiraling and splashing out from beneath his anxious hooves and shies lifting whole body out of the offensive pool of birth blood.  He turns and inspects, ears forward, nostrils flaring.

Rider grasps tight with hands and legs, nearly unseated in the explosive motion.  Out of balance in this unknown – mind gripping fright, already forgotten the place of beginning.  There is only this heaving creature beneath her.  Vertigo of sensation caught in the curl of a visual, emotional, mental tidal surge, spun in the collapsing tunnel crashing into this new awareness of living.  Senses are stunned by the tsunami impact of sight, sound and feel.  The crash of the curling waves cresting and crumbling against sound blasted rock and sand.  The surge swirls past horse hooves, enervating tickle cold, he backs away, head low, snorting.  Rider grab fistfuls of mane, sensing the shift and alignment of bone, tendons and muscles, unfamiliar inner tension – strength and weakness – looseness and tightness – hard edges and soft curves – an unfolding of opposites within her being, desperately clinging to the back of horse.

Horse snorts at the receding foam, takes a step.  Rider senses movement, feels her body align, another horse step, another adjustment.  The cramping hug of her legs begin to soften, Spine lifts into the vast openness above, aligning her head and neck and shoulders over the bones of her hip.  A sharp and sudden spasm shivers through her, bones lengthen, tendons, ligaments, muscle make connections and wrap joints.

Again she is slammed with outward sensation.  Now sight and sound and touch and smell are differentiated.  The air glistens with micro-mini sun caught molecules.  The rumble of the ocean reverberates through horse’s hooves, penetrating her inner cells, activating the pulse of heart and blood.  Her lungs open, filling with iridescent life breath.  The eye shielding brilliance of the sun disc caresses her outer sense with penetrating heat, skin penetrating, scalp penetrating the heat descends in a golden ray permeating Riders inner being, descending, ascending like a helix through her center, descending through horse, through glimmering sand, to earth’s core.  Spirit of light is embraced in earth womb, kissed in earth consciousness, mother blessing her child through spirit and sending back to Rider, spirit baptized in matter.

Horse explodes in sense overload, legs bend then stiffen shooting him into the air, seeking escape, feeling there is no safety in Rider, her knowing disconnected from their one spirit.  Gravity ensnares him, dragging him to the ground.  He lunges forward, hooves pounding against the sand, propelling him forward with legs frantically pumping beneath his great heart, driving spirit into muscle, extending neck and shoulders, he begins a race for his very life, his spirit, his being.

Rider, thrown off balance, grips horse with grappling arms, legs, hands and feet.  Mind locks in fear, breath shallow, nerves chaotic, shutting out all senses except survival, she hangs in limbo, a broken connection.

Imperceptibly Rider feels a magnetic pull, an attraction, a blossoming of emanating energy from Horse heart, encircling her heart, entraining the turbulent boom of primal pounding, heart to heart.  A tenuous internal connection – she begins to feel the bounding rhythm in Horse’s body.  Through tendrils of fear her mind opens to this connection.  Cautiously she maneuvers her body back onto Horse – recognizing the heave and sway so reminiscent of the sea carrying her and Horse in the currents of the amniotic fluid of creation.  Newly invigorated muscles bunch and lengthen, she leans into the velocity of horse’s headlong charge through his fear, his terror of the grappling, clinging body, unbalanced, unsupported relationship.

Hair ringed hooves harpoon the sand, surf, seaweed, all unheeded in Horse’s unleashed run for survival.   The seaweed wraps and clings to his pasterns and fetlocks, begins to drag and tangle itself as his hooves whip through the stems, stems snaking rope knots about his legs. Trapped, he stops, white foam lathering shoulders and flanks, lungs and heart battering breath and blood.  Every cell in his body trembles.  He feels Rider slip from his back.  Caressing hands console his body, kind crooning sounds soothe his terrified mind.  He feels the knots loosen from his ankles and the rope stems slip from his legs.  Dropping his great head to the ground he takes a deep groaning breath, allowing the comfort of Rider’s hands and voice to assure him that she remembers who they are, that they are still one even though two.

Two yet one, Rider’s heart fills with a hope, an anticipation, a love so big it plunges from the confines of her chest spilling into her arms and legs, feet and hands, shoulders and throat, tumbling into her head, her thoughts, her perception, over flowing and encompassing Horse, so protective of his delicate nervous system, his brave generosity, his need to be one of two.  Love lifted she leaps onto Horse’s broad back, her legs explore the spring of his ribs, the muscles of his back beneath her buttocks, and the damp heat of his sweated hide sticky against her skin.  With breath, intent and a quiet tightening of her legs she urges horse to move forward, stepping out of entanglement, stepping out toward the horizon of fanning, slanting pink, orange and purple pluming as Sun settles into a cosmic nest of radiating color.

White caps play against the sheet of deepening color reflecting orange, yellow, red, blue, indigo, violet – rainbow hued arching to the gusting breeze, tickling ocean skin, exiting nerves of riders skin, infusing her breath with the colors of the sinking sun.  Colors radiate upon the sand heaped dunes and flowering iceplant.  Birds bank in the thrust of the wind, kaleidoscopic colors shining off iridescent wings, shimmering in the brined air, caught in the scalloped sand of the fore beach – scattered sparkling particles of light in air and water and energy.  Rider releases her body to Horse.  Horse offers his mind to Rider.

Rider turns West toward the setting sun, horse moving with her gaze, a compass arrow aligned in shared direction.  Golden light gleams, horizontal light of the setting sun encompass Horse and Rider in a golden shower.  Rider turns South, Horse pivoting to her intention, facing out toward the horizon of the great heaving sea, darkening in the early twilight.  Rider turns North, with horse facing the rounded breast of dunes, casting shadows in the fading light.  Together Horse and Rider turn East, the dunes recede into fathomless distance. Moon, at the border of land and sea is beginning Her lift from the horizon, a breath catching silver radiance seeping into the gloom.  Silhouetted in the cross point of Earth and Sky, Water and Land, Horse and Rider breathe in promise, the promise of adventure, the adventure of love and loss, birth and death, the ageless adventure of embodied spirit.

Horse, restless in anticipation, prances his intention.  Rider soothes, yes, just a moment more.  The sun has set, there is a phosphorescent diamond dust sparkling in the surf, in the surge, in the waves.  Deep shadows drape the dunes, the cuff of coastline arcs against the rising globe of the moon, ending in a rocky point pushing into the pound of the sea.  A symphony of stars grace the domed darkness of sky, vanishing into the depth of sightless horizon.  Horse trembles and snorts, paws and lifts his head, eye open to expansive energy inviting him to engage in its expression.  With an exhale of breath Rider releases Horse.  He springs into the air, bouncing forward on hind legs, forelegs grasping for the promise pulsing in his veins.  His hooves hit the ground running.

And then there is only Horse and Rider and the ecstasy of unrestrained, unfettered freedom, exposed power of energy in motion.  With lengthening stride horse reaches into each moment, driving into the barrier of future, releasing the past footfall, balancing for the next, reach, rebalance, release.  Rider leans into the acceleration of Horse’s charge through space and time, arms outstretched like wings, laughing into the lunar light, hips and legs holding to horse, to the undulating surge so like the great power of the sea.  Together, in the full exaltation of life shared, they race the phosphorescent waves, sparks springing from beneath horse’s flying hooves, sparklers mirroring the moon gleam bouncing across the surface of the throbbing sea.

They gallop, fully extended in physical being, in emotional bliss, in mental unity with each other and all that is within the stage of their theater, breathing great lungful’s of night, laced with starlight, moonbeam and shimmering waves, intoxicated by the wondrous sensations and scents, washed in a wind of their own creation in a tincture of salt and sweat and sea.

As suddenly as their run starts it ends.  Horse crests, mirroring the crown and spray of wave, his hind legs slide underneath him, front legs lifting, back and neck round, the spume of mane and tail flung forward, Horse and Rider reach land’s end.  Rock slick, awash with tidal turmoil, trails into a wash of moonlight, silver mercurial cobblestones form a path across the face of the ocean.

There is but a pause in forward motion, a breath, a half halt.  Rider urges Horse forward into the mystic moonlit moment, each hoof tipping the glistening cobblestones, Horse and rider gallop on, and on, pulled by some great magnet into the cosmic presence of their destiny.  The weight of gravity begins to disintegrate, shedding itself in swaths of iridescent star dust, a shining in the darkness streaking into the bright of the moon.  Rider exhales, her breath twinkling, feeling the spaciousness of body, effortless, wingless flight of Horse as they traverse the outward path, lifted by the primordial dark energy of life and light.

A vibrating orb of green and rose begins to glow within the Heart chakras of Horse and Rider.  Deeper and richer and fuller the colors intensify, expand until one encapsulates the other, blending hearts in unity and energy of love.   Descending matter radiates in a light show of red, orange and yellow, ascending spirit glows in blue, indigo and violet, Horse and Rider, a rainbow comet soaring through the infinite cocoon of space.  An ecstasy of oneness, wholeness even as the weight of embodiment falls in a shower of shooting stars, Horse and Rider release heart and mind to the pull of the great magnet, the path home.

Horse and Rider gallop on and on.  A vibrant glow expands upon the horizon of their path, it fills their vision, a blooming, billowing luminescent cloud, sacred burial place of stars, sacred birthing place to solar systems, enduring stage of reincarnation, the fingerprint of God. Time and space collapse into one infinite moment, one immortal archetype.  Horse and Rider dissolve into particles of gas and dust, a miniscule dot in the sweeping kaleidoscopic dance of color and shape, finding home in nebula, an essence of eons in the exquisite beauty of destruction and creation, forever Horse-Rider in the primordial whole.

Lynnea Honn                                                                                                                                                                         Bunker Hill Rd, Amador City

October 20, 2014

Art by Jan Long Harper

Church of The Round Pen

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Let me retouch the joy I feel working and playing with the beautiful lady, Chloe, as we become acquainted in a Bear Valley Springs Round Pen. The joy of balancing energy between horse and human. I am visiting my brother, just outside of Tehachapi, CA. He has two very nice horses; Silver, a gentle giant, half shire-half quarter horse gelding, a delightful silver grey. And he has Chloe, feminine, lovely, elegant, half Friesian, half paint – a beautiful balance of black and white. I am smitten with her.
Chloe and I don’t know each other. I have been told she has a certain level of training. I find when I ask her to move up to that level she is confused, not sure as to how to respond and becomes agitated, throwing more and more energy into escaping my request. I lift my energy, changing my body posture to more assertive as she escalates. I know that somewhere she knows the correct response and I wait for her to find it, not letting up on my response to the energy she is throwing out. And suddenly she finds it, bending her ear and eye to me, her head and tail lower, she begins to respond rather than react and I yield the pressure of my energy and she begins to lick her lips. Joyful communication. We have found a momentary balance, a balance to build upon.
We see the round pen as a place of schooling for the horse but in reality, hidden in plain sight, is the dance of relationship, the coming together of energies, enfolding one in the other, creating a communication of mind, body and spirit. Horse spirit is our captivator. We are enthralled with the primordial, free expression of horse in body and action. We want to capture that spirit and make it our own. Of course we can’t capture it, we can only interface with it. Come to that common denominator that enlivens each of us.
Like any church, the round pen can be misinterpreted to be all about dogma and rules. Rules are guide posts to a deeper entanglement of promise and potential. When we bind ourselves to rules we bind ourselves to the structure of ego. Ego structure is important but it is only a portal, or an impassable boundary, to the greater dimension of energetic relationship.
This is deep stuff and I don’t mean to scare anybody away. We, of The Tribe of Horse, all seek that mystic relationship with our horse. The relationship where we become one in mind, body and spirit.

TRANSFORMATION. “A personality change aligning to a pattern appropriate to spiritual life which so sensitizes the recipient that incoming spiritual forces have significantly increased impact.”

Today we made thunder – You made thunder.
I am the witness making the space available.
You are my horse, the primal voice of my passion.

Lightning lanced, you arc and lash and flare.
A tornado tossed tumble weed your buckskin body
Bounds, lifts, floats, and dances in the round
to the strident concussion of your own music.
I stand in the eye of your storm
Reveling in the power of your expression
tasting the turbulent wind funneled through your nostrils
vibrating to the pounding rhythm your
hooves drum on the skin of sod and soil.

And then the storm is spent.
Your canter is cradle rocking soft
A Soul soothing cadence quiet as an April shower
I lift my hand and step back, a beckoning bow
Inviting you to share the center with me.
You come, ears up, muzzle reaching into my cupped hands
You blow a gentle Zephyr, the west wind’s promised warmth.
The scent of exuberant exertion lifts off your body, damp and dense.
You are Life coming to me willingly,                                                                                           You share your heart space.

I Am A Teacher of Horse Passion

As a teacher I pass on my knowledge with my heart and soul. I find I tune in with every fiber of my being in the attempt to communicate and share my knowledge, describe in the clumsiness of words. When I connect with a young person who grasps intuitively the concepts of the horse/human relationship steps it is a joyful experience. It is impossible for me to not become very attached to these kids. I watch them with nurturing eye and hand, grow as horse people. I see them explore, get stuck, experience the light of understanding and I move through all of this with them. It is personally fulfilling and rewarding. However, I know with every lesson, every interaction there will come a day for them to spread their wings and move on to the next level, the next horsemanship experience, the next expansion of their passion…the passion that we share. They will leave me. Which of course is what the preparation is all about, it is one of the goals of the teaching. I am devastated, inconsolable, just like a parent whose children have left home.

I have to say, there is real wonder in Facebook. I woman found me, a woman that I knew briefly when she was a youngster and I wasn’t much older. I have been following her postings and page. She now owns a Thoroughbred Bloodstock farm in Florida. I mentioned to her how wonderful that she has fulfilled the horsewoman’s dream. She responded that I was responsible. WOW. What a gift she gave me in those few words. This sharing of the passion for horses has been going on for more than fifty years. It isn’t just in this moment. Just as there are people that have helped me along this journey, the ones I think of in gratitude, there are those whose lives I have touched. We are all linked in this love of horses.

And so I can release my kids, with love, to their future and their past. I go with them in their journey. I am so grateful that, as a member of the Tribe of Horse, I have the gift of sharing the passion for these incredible creations of God, the Horse. For in the end, it is all about our horses.

She is a horsewoman.

She is blessed

with an enthusiasm and passion

that has carried her through life,

generating a journey

compelling and rewarding.

Now she is blessed

by the opportunity

to share her passion

with those starting on a similar journey,

weaving together

the similarities and differences

of interspecies relationship.

She lives in the flame of enthusiasm

as she helps to transform

unknowing into knowing

between horse and human.

Lynnea

Horse Beauty

Beauty, it is said, is in the eye of the beholder.  And yet the study of art and mathematics show there is a universal form to beauty – an asymmetrical balance that creates an ever evolving movement, forever seeking to bring the whole into balance and forever recreating it’s asymmetry in a harmony that carries the eye into a mystery of searching.  It is called the Golden Ratio, universal “sacred geometry” that shows itself in the spiral of galaxies, in the crest of an ocean wave, in the curves of a conch shell and in the complex spiral of DNA.

“The outside of a horse is good for the inside of a man,” a quote famously said by Teddy Roosevelt.  The horse embodies the golden ratio many times over in its form.  We can’t help but admire the shape, the combination of curves and angles, the flare of nostrils, the flag of tail, the curtain of mane – beauty expressed in every part and every movement – universal, primordial beauty.

Beauty also comes in relationship, searching for that melding of horse/human understanding.  As a teacher of foundational horsemanship I ask my young students at their first lesson, “why do you want to learn to ride a horse?”  The most common answer is “I love horses.”  Can’t go wrong with that.  Starting from a place of love can only lead to success.  For me, watching these young horse people struggle trying to grasp the physical, mental and emotional intricacies of learning to handle and ride a 1000 pound horse and suddenly pushing past the barrier of  not being able to suddenly being able, is absolute beauty.   I am passionate in sharing with these young people the experiences and practices that my 56 years of teaching has taught me.  Yes, teaching teaches.  My mentors teach me, the horses teach me, and students teach me.  Learning reaches out through an entire lifetime.

BEAUTY     by Lynnea Honn

Six months past

 was her lesson last.

A nine year old

 seeking the elusive gold

a treasure so bold,

 a shared story retold.

The joining of beings,

 the vistas of seeing’s

from the back of a horse,

 a bridge to the source

of nine year old glory,

 an adventure story.

She sits astride a gentle ride,

the fat round mare

of snow white hair.

She listens and cares

words her teacher shares.

Her body tries so hard to do

what her teacher says is true.

Try as hard as she may

 her seat just won’t stay

in the saddle so wide

 and the bouncy stride

jars her seat from the saddle.

 to stay on is a battle.

“Sure can’t chase cattle

 if you can’t stay astraddle,”

Teacher says from the center

 the words of her mentor.

Clasping hard on the reins,

 child’s hand jerks and strains.

back rubber band bending,

 mixed messages she’s sending.

The teacher does muse

what words can she choose?

so child’s seat she won’t lose,

 this young psyche won’t bruise.

Teacher calls on her knowing

 to lead to the flowing

of harmony felt

when two bodies melt

into exquisite rhythm

and shared body wisdom.

“Imagine head lifting high,

 a string attached to sky,

your breathe a soft sigh,

  your legs a draped “Y”

across horse’s back,

 over horse tack,

legs stretching down,

 heels reaching for ground,

hands push against bounce,

 weighing only an ounce,

seat pumps like a swing

 so that you won’t fling

off from the spring

when the horse is trotting.”

And then it is there,

 as though from thin air.

Little body is straight

and in rhythm with gait,

Hands float above wither

 like the play of a zither.

Fingers fold ‘round rein

 so as not to cause pain.

soft, without strain.

It has not been in vain

This effort of love – A gift from above

This moment of Beauty, A Rider, A Cutie.