I mentioned that I love them. Here I am on my beloved friend, Shareef. We had a horse show out at the 5-B Stable. Now it's called the Abraham's Equine Clinic and my friend, Dr. Charles Abraham, is the primary veterinarian out there. I didn't know that until I searched for it. Wow!
At the link there is an ariel photo of the place where I'd ride Shareef.
If biking is a spiritual experience, riding atop a beloved and majestic creature like a horse is - supremely sublime. To become one with and befriend this enormous being who could crush you, kick you, bite you or mash you into smithereens was humbling. But it too was an immensely spiritual and grounding encounter. It was an relationship built on trust, communication of a non-verbal sort and deep respect.
I was so blessed that my folks decided that they could afford to buy Shareef. I had been going out to another farm and exercising a cute little Morgan gelding. During my time at camp, I spent as much time as possible at the stable. Of course, since I loved riding, my dad and mom found out about a fun(ny) riding stable where folks could rent horses. We did this fairly often for special family occasions. I joke with my dad these days because we'd often take Dad "horseback riding" for Father's Day. What a great dad to humor his daughters this way and what a great mom to go along on those trail rides.
I drove past the Upmier Riding Stable near Ely, Iowa while I was back home for my nephew's high school graduation. It was amusing to drive by the old place. It seemed a bit seedier and more run down than I remember. It could well be that it is. But it could also be true that I just didn't notice things like that when my bright eyes were set on finding the horses. Now, if you've ever done this, renting-of-bored-tired-kind horses, you know that they just plod along the trail. They could do it - maybe they do do it - with their eyes closed. It wouldn't matter if you kicked their sides in an urgent, insistent manner. They just ignore you.
So, when Shareef came into our family and into my life, I was head over heels in love with him. Hanging out with him and at the "barn" - that's what we called it - was my salvation. I was disgusted with the fickle-friended nature of some of immature junior high kids: they talked to you in the hallway like you were their best friend one day and the very next day treated you like you were the weirdest person on the planet. B-o-r-i-n-g!
I escaped to country with its aromas of cut hay, manure, riding ring dust and rolled oats. Horses smell, yes, horsey in a good way. I immersed myself in the world of horse care and horse-girl-ship. Not everything is totally fun with a horse. They get crabby sometimes. Ornery and stubborn when you call them from the field and sometimes pitch and buck you off. This happened one of the first times I rode Shareef. I had started to exercise him for his owner, Cindy, who had gone off to college.
Racing up the hill behind the stable, I didn't realize that Shareef hadn't been cut lose like that in months. He was giddy-happy, put his head down and bucked all the way up the hill. Then I really was head over heels launched into the air. I flew over his head and landed ahead of him just as he stepped on my right biceps. Luckily, it had rained and the ground was quite soft so it just left an big hoof imprint on my arm and briefly knocked the wind out of me.
I knew that I had to get back on him and ride again. He wasn't my horse yet and we were still getting to know each other. So, like a dutiful cowgirl, I got right back up there in that saddle again. Yeppers - and our love affair was blossoming.
Shareef was my best friend. Irritating as well - just like friends can be. We'd ride like the wind in the summer and go on overnight trail rides. We loved to race our friends across the pond while riding bareback by running really fast and then splashing in the water, Shareef swimming with the other horses like Apache with Rita and Gent with Sarah. Shareef and Apache, the Tennessee Walking horse had a penchant for racing. Sure, Rita and I would put them up to it - but they could tell when we were getting ready to holler - GO! It didn't matter where we were - they'd take off at breakneck speed. Across those fields in the back or insanely fast on the gravel roads.
I know - as I think about this now, it seems super dumb. One quail flushed out of the ditch, one car coming over the rise of the hill that we could never see, one this or one that that spooked the hell-bent racers and Rita and I would have been road-hamburger or something worse. But we didn't think of that. Neither did the horses. It was just pure exhilarating, blinding speed and the race that mattered - nothing else. And it was fun. We all loved it.
In the winter, Shareef would pull a goofy Flexible-Flier sled with my sisters on it. We didn't have a cool, Santa-sleigh, so we improvised. On other occasions we'd jump over things on purpose. I rode a hunt seat saddle for jumping over those railings and such. He could also run as a barrel-racer and was great at dressage. He was my buddy and we shared a life. He helped me survive those impossible teen-angst years.
And then, just like Cindy before me, I went away to college and Shareef moved to Illinois to be with a new girl. I saw him one more time after that when my family was visiting relatives and we made a point to look Shareef up. The new girl let me ride him again - one last time. It was like I had never left. He knew me and all our funny little signals. By the end of our time together, I could ride without a saddle or a bridle - just riding by leg signals and by shifting my weight. That's how I rode him the last time. When I dismounted, the new girl said, "It's like he's known you forever. You can just tell that he loves you and remembers you."
Several years later, while on internship, I had a dream that Shareef died and I woke up sobbing. While I can never be sure about it, I think he had died that day and somehow in that weird, connected liminal sort of way - my spirit knew that he was gone.
The tears are slipping down my cheeks as I write and the screen is blurry. I didn't know how much I still missed him so. But I cherish these memories and all the lessons he taught me; how to love unconditionally, even when you're ornery, how to run like the wind for the sheer joy of running and how to be in tune with one of God's most majestic and noble of creatures.
Hi Ho -- Shareef and away!
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