Unforgiving Surfaces

My horse was careening out of control, galloping down the long side of the arena, and I could NOT figure out how to take my hands off his neck to stop him.  Normally responsive and docile, this was a surprise takeoff, probably brought on by MY reaction to the pony galloping in the pasture and the puppies chasing each other, and the other horses enjoying a spring morn.

As we turned in a circle, I removed my foot from one stirrup and dismounted into the dirt, avoiding flailing hooves and landing on my knees in the dirt.  Bodily not hurt,  my brain angry and frustrated and upset, the tears came.

But which was harder, the sandy red surface or my ego?  After a long chat, I eventually remounted the horse, walked, then trotted slowly around the arena with nary an issue.  Why do we do it?  Why can’t we stop?  Do we have horse blood in our souls?  Or just a portion of their souls in our hearts?

The ego wins, as I will return tomorrow for another ride.  Hopefully under my control, not his.  C


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