Shipboard Reading

Written with Barb in mind.

Here we are on our first full day at sea heading south to Acapulco. The previous two weeks on land have been rather hectic and quite planned out. So today, I took advantage of a slow morning, sipping my tea, listening to the ocean as it pushed back from the ship's hull and reading one of the books I brought: How to Think Like a Horse.

In a paragraph titled The Spirit of the Horse, the author writes, "Horses have a special sense that allows them to detect our moods....Without physical contact, they can read and pick up very subtle signs from a human."

I stopped reading, closed my eyes and relived an experience I had a few weeks back that attests to this. I was out in the dry lot playing with the horses and had Lola in a halter. We had just gone for a walk and we were returning to our beginning point where I would release her. All of a sudden, from the ranch next door, I, we, heard this alarming call from Blue that said nothing short of "Wait! I don't want to go!"

Without any warning tears just started rolling full stream down my cheeks and I had goose bumps the size of golf balls. I was so caught off guard by this overwhelming emotion it took me a minute to figure out what was going on. Blue was being taken to his new home, not far up the road, but away from us. He did not want to go.

It was simultaneous: as my tears rolled, Greco, Blue's soul mate , was running back and forth calling out to him, his other pasture mates were whinnying to call attention to the fact that someone was taking their friend, and several horses who were gathered around me were calling back to Blue as he disappeared down the road. It was a symphony of heart-wrenching separation anxiety pleas. Ugh. Honestly, it felt like my core was being pummeled.

Next I knew, Lola, who had been standing beside me with her perfect manners and patience, had moved in closer, leaning in to me just enough to let me know she was there. She let her head relax down and she didn't move as I effortlessly cried and loved on her. Her body frame softened, her skin became lithe so my hand could sink deeper inward toward her tender beating heart. This kind, giving gesture just made me weep more.

It was a "clean" cry. No sobbing, just cleansing tears washing over my dusty face as I stood amongst the most beautiful beasts I have come to admire and understand. I felt that pang that they were feeling when one of them, one of us, was leaving. And Lola felt my pang. For that moment in time, I was one of them.

Meet Alibi

Alibi. He is a special horse. An Arabian, CMK, and looks just like the horse you find in your coloring books or a cartoon or a Hasbro play horse. Really.

I was introduced to Alibi last January as a remarkable endurance race horse: one who wins all of his races. Intense 100 mile races, in all conditions, dangerous courses, rider on board, and he wins every time. Everyone at the races knows Alibi. Impressive.

To catch Alibi to get him ready for a race generally required 2 people to corner him and halter him using snacks, ropes, whatever it took. Alibi did not come to the halter and definitely not to the person holding it. "Uncatchable."

Well, Alibi has recently retired from racing due to an injury. He is back on our ranch after spending a couple of months with the neighbors in hopes of rehabilitating him. He came back with just as much intensity, power and determination. Always ready to GO!

For the past 3 months, I have been working with Alibi with the intention of re-languaging people, approach and touch, and in particular people with halters.

It started very slowly. Just standing beside him, not too close or he'd scoot away. The days progressed with touching while he ate to then touching his nose. Our encounters eventually evolved to him coming to me before I feed the horses. He approaches me. He initiates contact. I of course, reciprocate, lavishly so. Kisses and all.

Then we moved to my putting my arm over his neck, the start of putting on a halter. At first he pulled back a bit and then he settled in realizing there was nothing but a hug attached. So we did this for weeks: 15 seconds, 30 seconds, 45 seconds, even a minute of just holding him and him allowing me to do so.

I cannot put into words how significant this was. Not just because Alibi hasn't been known to do such things, except when in a halter, but that he came to me and allowed me to handle him in a very vulnerable way. I have gone to sleep at night with the biggest smile on my face, still smelling him on my cheek.

So, the day came when we both knew he was ready to put his head in the halter. A few weeks ago he actually put his nose in and out of the halter and I just let him play, without buckling it. But this day, it was different.

He came to me, and I had the halter in my hand, and he just looked at me with a definitive message that I was ready to receive. I said, "Alibi, I had a dream that you were in the halter. I think today is the day." There was acknowledgement in his eyes, he extended his neck toward me, twisted his head sideways as he does and breathed a relaxing sigh. I told him, "It's all okay. You will be safe." Alibi lowered his head, I put my arm over his neck, waited for him to slip his nose into the halter and I attached the buckle.

Wow. Tears in my eyes. An ear to ear smile on my face. And more of "good boy!" than one can say in a reasonable amount of time.

We walked around the dry lot where he calls home. Just a comfortable walk. We walked up to the high spot, looked down at the other horses who I just know where equally in awe, we enjoyed the view of the pastures, the blue sky, the mountains. We took it all in, together, trusting each other with our hearts.

We walked back to our departure point and I slowly unbuckled the halter and slipped it off his muzzle. I expected him to turn around and bolt--he didn't. Instead, he nuggled me, and then lowered his head again. Twice? Not only once in one day, but twice! This was such a blow me away moment that we had to call friends to tell them we'd be late to pick them up. There was no way I was passing up this date.

Since then, Alibi has come to me and played with the halter. We move in baby steps. And yesterday, I asked him if he was ready to do this again. And he was. This time we went up to the barn, had some grooming time, treats, and put a blanket on him. He hasn't been out of the dry lot since September. Imagine the excitement for both of us! And what a special time that was. Oh how we ga-ga'd over each other with praise and thanks and confident satisfaction.

One thing everyone who knows Alibi says is, "he's a trippy horse" or something else along those lines. "He's smart." "He anticipates your every move." "He knows what you're thinking before you even get to him." And I'll add, "He talks directly to you with his eyes, head and energy." He is no ordinary horse (as if there is one of those.)

I know what we started is just starting, but I am so excited about what has transpired. What happens tomorrow? Who knows. I know what happened this week.

My soul has been touched in an unfamiliar way. And I am giving thanks for that special gift that Alibi gave to me.