Horse Sense

A couple nights ago I was talking with a good friend over the phone and recounting a college horse-back riding trip. Thinking back, this particular trip was not only a great adventure, but a moment of Zen as well. And hey, I'm kinda strapped for material of late, so humor me here, ok?

A few weeks before leaving Belmont University in 1994, our RA (Resident Assistant) Neil organized a rag-tag group of folks in our dorm to go out and just have some fun. It somehow ended up being horse-back riding somewhere on the outskirts of Nashville. There were about 10 of us in this party and I'm pretty sure none of us had ever ridden a horse. Yep, this was going to get fun.

Our group consisted of Neil, yours truly, a friend of mine named Margaret, a Russian exchange student, a couple guys from Uzebekistan (who gave me a coin from their country which I still have to this day), a guy from 2nd floor who was an avid country line dancer on the weekends, and a couple other people I just can't remember much about.

After driving out to the horse farm and neighboring walking trail, we met up with the owners for Horse 101. We were assigned our horses and taught basic riding. Being the littlest guy, I got the biggest horse, who was named Lonesome. The owners and guide joked that the horse always came back without a rider, hence the name. Yeah, they were having some fun with me too, so we all had a good laugh. I just turned around so they couldn't see my panic.

Not long after learning how to "throw it in reverse" (which gave the owners and guide ANOTHER laugh at my expense), we were headed down the trail...and the sky was darkening. We wound our way through the rather peaceful woods for a while. Time disappeared as we would occasionally stop to rest the horses, talk, and just take in the sights and smells of the forrest. Then the fun started...

Our guide turned us loose with the idea of meeting up back at the start. Time to meander. Lonesome took this opportunity to charge down hills with a slightly concerned rider on his back, pulling up on the reigns. After a couple instances of this, he got the message I didn't like high-speed, down-hill charging and backed off the idea. Curiously, during these hijinks, we did forge a peaceful and spiritual bond, like two old friends or the experienced cowboy and his trusty mount of many years. I liked my new/old friend, even if he was crazy.

For quite a while it was Lonesome and I, in the middle of nature. I felt so at ease and connected to life and the universe in a way that just can't be put into words. It was almost a soothing warm blanked of contentment and harmony. It was a mixture of feelings and serenity without equal and a totally new experience. I truly did not want that ride to end.

When we came to the next hill Lonesome started to charge out of habit, but then slowed himself down remembering my apprehension. Didn't have to pull on the reigns a bit. He just knew. I smiled and thanked my friend with a pat on his shoulder.

A few minutes later, another down-hill charge, and another slow up from one very smart horse. Since I felt much better about his habits, I gave Lonesome a "go ahead" kick. He looked back at me as if to say "are you SURE?". Another kick was a firm "yes friend, I trust you, so go for it." I think he smirked and thought "ok buddy, you asked for it!" And we were off like a rocket. Yaaaaahooooooo! I was scared to death but quickly switched to thrilled as Lonesome galloped with a fiery vengeance down the steep trail. Was he ever hauling it! Oh man, please don't let me hit a tree!

Lonesome tired out and reverted back to a leisurely walk. I returned to oneness with the forrest as a gentle rain began. Neither of us were bothered and we took in the fresh clean smell. The moment and rain were healing, refreshing, renewing and several other things. We just walked for several minutes, wordless, in harmonious tune with the few clinging leaves and dampened bark of the woods.

About this time Neil went flying by on a horse he had traded from Margaret. The spirited mount was not slowing down for anyone, especially it's rider, who was screaming "Shiiiiiiiiiiiit!" at the top of his lungs. Lonesome looked back at me right on que as if to say "should we go after them?" "Yeah, we better go after him," I said out loud. Lonesome fired up another gallup and we careened through the woods with cornering and leaning akin to a moto grand prix racer. Once again, he just knew what to do and listened. No kick or flip of the reigns needed.

A few minutes later we rejoined the others back at the trail start. Everyone was safe and accounted for, and maybe a bit saddle sore. I reluctantly said good goodbye to my new old friend. Had I the money and land, I'd have bought Lonesome on the spot. Such a good, smart horse! He also helped me earn my nickname for the next several weeks, The Marlboro Man.

I miss Lonesome to this very day and always think of him (and that trip) with a smile. Truly, one of the best adventures of my life.