I read this poem, “When you Can’t Stop Crying”  by Jon Katz on Friday morning and burst into tears   It has been a raw, dark week for me.  There is a part of me that cannot feel into what is coming, or that fears what is coming and prefers not to look.

And then there is my beloved, beloved Capprichio, nose in the grass, hooves on the earth, eye to me, reminding me to taste what is here right now, to stand where I am and breathe all of this in.  And today, when I was appreciating him, and appreciating the warmth, and appreciating the opening blossoms om my crab apple tree, the lilacs, the sun I could feel a budding possibility, beyond my control, beyond even my ability to imagine.

This weekend I am traveling to Minnesota to visit my sister.  Janet is one of the most ebulliant and optimistic people I know.  When the genetic cards were being dealt, she got those.  Whenever I see her, I say I am going to get an infusion of “Janergy.”

Next post from St. Paul.

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I took this picture of Capprichio last September.  I lay in the grass and let him move around me.  I loved seeing him from this angle, down where he grazes, one eye on the farm, one eye on me.

Last night I spoke with the animal communicator Kate Reilly, and when she spoke to Capprichio, the first thing he said to her was, “It’s been a long time.”  He was talking about his long working life.  She said he sounded solemn – not depressed – but like an elder statesman.  She also confirmed that he is not comfortable.  Nothing catastrophic, just a number of things that add up to not feeling great.  I had been feeling that.

Capprichio will be twenty this year.  That is not OLD for a horse, but it is often when a horse who has worked for many years competing or performing will retire.  He has been “retired” for several years, but I still ride him lightly.  My antenna are always out – feeling for his legs, his back, how is he stepping? And mostly for his heart and mind – is this still fun?

Two weeks ago, after he recovered from his abscess, I felt something different.  Almost as if he did not want to put his feet down.  it was a new kind of tenderness.  I was listening.

Kate suggested letting him take February off and doing body work with him – energy work and TTouches.  She said, “Don’t do what you know.  Play.  See what happens.”  I have been writing about play in the blog and also in Breaking into Blossom.  And here is that theme again!  Kate telling me to play in an intuitive, improvisational way.  No map.  Just feeling and listening.  Letting myself be led – by my hands, by my heart, by him.  By love.

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Today as I was brushing out the second tail of the day, after soaking Capprichio’s abscessed foot, and grooming Amadeo, I suddenly looked up and wondered, why do I love this?  Why do I love touching horses?  I was holding the tip of Deo’s tail, and looking at his very fuzzy hamstrings with their winter wisps of long hair.  Why do I love this?  Why is it that the acts of touching, massaging, brushing, picking out feet, stroking the face never get old.  Why is it that a day without those movements is not complete?

I honestly do not know.

My birth chart has absolutely no earth in it.  I am all air, fire and water.  Maybe the deep groundedness of the horses gives a balance to my energetic constitution.  Or I just love them in this deep helpless way.  They take my breath away.  They are happy to see me.  They express that in many ways.  They nuzzle me, they lay their noses on my cheek and ask me to stand there and breathe.  They appreciate my touching.  There is something in the ritual, the connection, the meditative quality of those movements and those moments spent together that soothes me to the bone.  To the soul.

As I said, though, I really don’t know.

(Asked and answered . . . )

ps.  I re-enabled comments on the blog.  My thought of the moment is why cut off conversation anywhere?  (Thank you Nicole),

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Today my horse Capprichio has an abscess in his hoof.  It is very painful, and hard to watch him stand on three legs, lifting the sore hoof, limping badly as he moves from one place to another. An abscess can happen when a nail from the shoe is poorly seated.  We pulled the shoe, poulticed the hoof, and he will feel better soon.

Capprichio’s eyes, even in pain, are steady and clear.  Soft, even.  He does not look worried  He is not making something out of this.  I think it is because he is not focused on the pain.  He feels it, no doubt, but it is not his chief preoccupation and distraction.  He is enjoying his hay, the December air and the view from his stall.  That and the pear that I brought him today.  Another lesson.

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I’d like you to meet my ride and my friend.  This is Capprichio, the black Andalusian stallion that is the great (equine) love of my life and my favorite dance partner.

He is ridden here not by me but by his former trainer, the brilliant Sabine Schut-Kery.  If you watch the video on her site, he is the one wearing the yellow polos.

We don’t live in Florida.  This is just where he and I got to know each other a bit.  That was six years ago.  He is nearly 20 now.  Sexy as ever.

Our riding these days is shaped by how he is feeling. That means that I have to pay attention, to wake up to the being that is carrying me, and to work within his limitations.  That is another piece of the ongoing dance.

In the burgeoning storm about horses and slaughter, there is this:  horses possess a sensitivity and delicacy that is beyond our comprehension.  They are defenseless.  They are companion animals, like dogs and cats.  They are our work and play partners.  Slaughter is never, never humane.

I am feeling despair and a deep sadness about this issue.  I want us to do better, as humans;  to be more feeling, more loving in our choices.

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There are certain sensations, certain sensory memories that are so deep and detailed that I can summon them up effortlessly, feel the whole sensuous shape of them here and now. They are touchstones, places of delight and grounding.

Recently, I have been playing with them in a more intentional way.  Not just thinking about them in passing, but diving in, relishing, savoring.  A kind of sensuous meditation.

Capprichio’s nose is the softest, sweetest place I know.

What is delicious to you?

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This is a photo of my beautiful stallion Capprichio at Dressage at Devon in 2004.  He is ridden by Sabine Schut-Kery and dancing with Ana Ayromlou.  Today he is is almost 20 years old, and our riding is cooked down, basic.  A little trot, a little canter, long companionable walks across the beautiful, grassy meadows.

If I put on music when I am riding him, I can feel him fill up, his neck arches, he starts to prance and blow, remembering all his chops – the passage, piaffe, the pirouettes and rears.  I love that feeling – all that wildness and energy coming up under me.   But dancing isn’t good for his ligaments or his joints, so we let that wave pass, and go back to being our companionable selves.  In my heart and mind though, he is always dressed to kill, and we are dancing together, full throttle.  Even just standing together gazing at the landscape, our six legs on the ground.

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This is a view that I love.  Moving into the landscape with Capprichio is a gift, a privilege, a deep pleasure.  Being carried is delicious.  Blending the rhythms of spines, hips and breath is one of the best dances that I know.

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I often wonder what Capprichio sees, what is the record of his world that is held in his body, in the tissue of his memory.

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Some horses in my life have a generosity of spirit that makes them particularly precious to me.  My Andalusian stallion Capprichio is one.  The Mustang stallion Nelson is another.  The glorious Friesian, Sanne, is another.  These horses seem to have time to just be, to stand with you, to ask nothing.  Just share breath and space.  I think it has to do with a certain confidence that they share.  Other horses can nudge and fidget – want to know what is next or why are you there.  I find myself drawn to these three because there is a sense of kindness and wholeness about them. Moments spent with them – grazing, standing, stroking, even training – are healing, calming, deeply refreshing.  Horse peace.

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