tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-39569188031117613812024-03-14T00:50:43.059-07:00Things I Learned From My HorseSusan Schreyer's equine-inspired musingsSusan Schreyerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11902407971890082541noreply@blogger.comBlogger52125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3956918803111761381.post-15093235952874738462014-07-13T14:11:00.000-07:002014-07-13T14:11:52.720-07:00Mysteries + Horses = .............<div style="text-align: center;">
A good read, of course!</div>
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I can't credit my horse with teaching me about writing, but I can credit all the horses I've know with inspiration. </div>
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<u>Saving the Queen of Diamonds</u> not only has the usual amount of mystery, humor and gratuitous riding, but a new equine character. Nancy Sue is a miniature horse with a not-so-miniature knack for getting into trouble. Just how much trouble? Ask anyone -- from Aunt Vi to Juliet ... and Paul will give you his opinion if you even appear as though you might ask. </div>
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If you're looking for some fun reading, follow the link -- Thea, Blackie and I will appreciate it!</div>
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<a href="http://www.amazon.com/Saving-Queen-Diamonds-Campbell-Mysteries-ebook/dp/B00LNOAQ38" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Yhl43TJwwWE/U8Lyj17GPQI/AAAAAAAABKM/V6bGxx6QdB0/s1600/300x450+STQOD+cover.jpg" height="400" width="266" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua"; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">Saving
the Queen of Diamonds<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua"; font-size: 11.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">The
sixth Thea Campbell Mystery<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua"; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">Family: Can’t live with them … but, an uneasy
alliance might be an option when murder is involved.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua"; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">Thea and Paul have been married two months and have
yet to tell his family. Now his parents have hit town with a vengeance and an
agenda; give Paul’s beautiful ex-wife the opportunity to win him back and be a
father to the sullen teenage boy she claims is his son.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua"; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">Thea panics and Paul is staggered. However, in less
time than it takes the single-minded seductress to <u>shed a tear</u> she is
arrested for murder.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua"; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">At her son’s insistence, Paul attempts to discover
what happened. But all his inquiries are stonewalled. What little information
has surfaced causes Paul to suspect a set-up. With or without Thea, he intends
to investigate. Grudgingly, she agrees to help – with the caveat that every
last one of them go back where they came from. So little to ask, and yet ….<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua"; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">As Thea and Paul dig into the case, they find
themselves pitted not only against a devious criminal and law enforcement who
do not want their help, but dirty-dealing family members who have fabricated
lies and deceptions of their own.</span><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua"; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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You can get the e-book at <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Saving-Queen-Diamonds-Campbell-Mysteries-ebook/dp/B00LNOAQ38">Amazon </a>or <a href="https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/456488">Smashwords</a>. Other ebook retailers will have it soon. The print version will be available by August 1, 2014. </div>
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Check Amazon for special deals on the <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Susan-Schreyer/e/B004CLPMUG">previous Thea Campbell Mysteries</a></div>
<br />Susan Schreyerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11902407971890082541noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3956918803111761381.post-66997688328555189662013-08-28T08:00:00.000-07:002013-08-28T08:00:31.370-07:00Back in the Saddle -- so to speak ...<div style="text-align: justify;">
Yes,I know it's been quite a while since I last posted anything, but trust me, it's not because there hasn't been anything going on. Of the positive events that have transpired, you should know I've released a new book (see sidebar). It took some time to complete. And yes, yes, yes, there's lots more horse stuff in that one -- and I know for a fact that's what a bunch of you Thea Campbell fans want!</div>
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But, back to the blog ....<br />
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My friend Kate Wyland nudged me into action by asking me to contribute to her wonderful blog "Conversations with Horses and Others". And, of course, when a friend asks what can you say but "when do you want it?"</div>
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So, without further ado, please, click on the link below to Kate's place and read "The Art of Breathing for Two" -- it's about how sport transcends the technical and become an expression of the heart. And say "hi" while you're there!</div>
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<a href="http://katewyland.com/2013/08/27/the-art-of-breathing-for-two/">Kate Wyland's</a></div>
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<a href="http://katewyland.com/2013/08/27/the-art-of-breathing-for-two/">Conversations with Horses and Others</a></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-BJNh8VQGG_8/Uh4Peg-O8PI/AAAAAAAAA2Y/SuBFm31b9jM/s1600/Lev+4+weeks(1).jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-BJNh8VQGG_8/Uh4Peg-O8PI/AAAAAAAAA2Y/SuBFm31b9jM/s200/Lev+4+weeks(1).jpg" width="111" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">You're right. This is not a horse. It's a tiny, cute, kitten that will keep screaming until you click on the above link to Kate's blog!<br /><br /></td></tr>
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<br />Susan Schreyerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11902407971890082541noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3956918803111761381.post-58347566937572438002012-07-10T06:49:00.000-07:002012-07-10T06:49:36.475-07:00Share the FunOne thing I've learned from all my years of riding horses is that fun is more fun when shared. What's fun? Reading a mystery that will make you laugh, gasp, and lose track of your bedtime -- all for FREE! Starting today, Tuesday, July 10, 2012 through Thursday, July 12, <a href="http://www.amazon.com/BushWhacked-Thea-Campbell-Mysteries-ebook/dp/B008967I9I"><span style="color: #990000; font-size: large;">BushWhacked</span>, my new Thea Campbell Mystery is available in e-book format for <span style="font-size: large;">FREE</span></a>! Do I want you to snap it up? Darned right! Fun should be shared. It's more fun that way. Go on, go get it! You don't even have to have a Kindle, don't have to even buy one. Amazon lets you download Kindle for your PC for FREE. (Hey, you spend all that time on your computer anyway, why not enjoy yourself?)<br />
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<a href="http://www.amazon.com/BushWhacked-Thea-Campbell-Mysteries-ebook/dp/B008967I9I" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-dvFiF9s6WP8/T4hDdCJx2TI/AAAAAAAAAsQ/P3r8LZIsq-M/s320/BushWhacked+100dpi+half+size.jpg" width="202" /></a></div>
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<a href="http://www.amazon.com/BushWhacked-Thea-Campbell-Mysteries-ebook/dp/B008967I9I">Go on, get yourself a FREE treat! </a></div>
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<br />Susan Schreyerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11902407971890082541noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3956918803111761381.post-17563104572521026062012-05-28T10:00:00.000-07:002012-05-28T10:03:12.049-07:00It's Just Routine, Ma'am<br />
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I have a tendency to jump right into the middle of things
with little preparation. My knee-jerk preference is to charge ahead and if I
get stuck, stop and read the directions – if I can find them. I would do this
when I ride, too, if it wasn’t so glaringly plain this is not a knee-jerk preference
for the horses. They simply don’t operate that way, and they will not be
persuaded otherwise. Therefore, if I want Eddie (for example) to do well, I
have to make sure I spend time, each and every ride, devoted to obsessing over getting
organized. I must allow him the time to go through the steps needed to warm up.
He has not varied from this requirement in the entire eighteen-plus-years I’ve
known him. </div>
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Yes, he’s a little one-way about the whole thing. </div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Eddie, doing his job without me interfering <br />
... yay, for me!</td></tr>
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He doesn’t like it if I try to do his job, or expect him to
do mine. We have a very distinct division of labor in our relationship and if I
forget what it is, he will remind me. He doesn’t do this in a mean way. He
simply gives me what I’m “really” asking for, and the usual result is me
feeling like an idiot. </div>
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Here’s a relatively benign example: it’s not up to me to
hold his posture together, despite the fact that I know what it should be.
That’s his job, and he can’t do it if I skip steps getting there and try to put
him in place before it’s time. He will lean on my hands and remind me how much
more he weighs than what I’m capable of lifting. Sure, I can remind him if he
quits doing his job, and I can show him how I want him to conduct himself, but
I can’t do it for him. Simply stated: He will let me. Times ten. </div>
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Horses are creatures of habit and routine. They need the sameness
of a familiar warm-up in order to be assured they are doing the right job, in
order not to be over-faced with demands from the rider. Routine is knowledge
and security. Routine keeps the stress at bay. </div>
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Come to think of it, we humans need routine, too. As much as
I hate to admit it. A big job becomes manageable if I break it down into a
progression of steps I’m familiar with. Even well-known tasks can be
overwhelming, like writing a book. If I remember to take it a logical and
progressive piece at a time I can conquer what had previously appeared daunting.
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I should remember this, since my horse insists.</div>
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<br /></div>Susan Schreyerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11902407971890082541noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3956918803111761381.post-66757195366126456802012-04-25T08:22:00.000-07:002012-04-25T08:22:36.866-07:00When You're In A Hole, Stop Digging<br />
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Success equals mental preparation -- that's what Henrik
pointed out at the instructors' seminar I attended. I can't argue with that. All
things being equal, I can achieve my future goal for my horse only if I am
sufficiently mentally prepared for each day's lesson and have a route planned
to my vision of the future. </div>
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It sounds simple enough. Know where I'm going, pull out the
road map, and learn the route. </div>
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Simple. Right. Ha, ha.</div>
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How many times have I ridden my horse thinking I was doing
all the right things only to realize progress toward my goal had not only stalled
out, but was deteriorating by the minute? </div>
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It's kind of like driving down a road, full of confidence my
destination is minutes away, and then, after a while (a really long while),
wondering why the scenery hasn't changed. Come to find out, I've been stuck in
the mud, spinning my wheels. How did I not notice? It sure explains all those
people standing around, exchanging glances and whispering among themselves. I could
tell them I meant to get buried up to my axels, but we'd all know better.</div>
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Sigh.</div>
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It's about that time I start to realize, yet again, part of
mental preparation is becoming familiar with what should be happening all along
the way -- not just at the end when I've reached my goal. The route includes my
ability to recognize the boggy places when encountered or, better yet, beforehand
so they can be avoided.</div>
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Having someone point those mucky spots out is invaluable.
But that can't happen every time I ride. Part of this learning process is to
recognize, more quickly, when I get stuck. With luck -- okay, with sufficient
mental preparation <i>and</i> luck -- I'll
remember the tools to help extract me from the bog. Then, at some time in the
future when I've experienced my quota of muck, I'll be able to avoid digging
myself in. I'll have learned to see it coming and plotted the route around.
Better yet, I'll have found the road without the potholes.</div>
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Until then, I'll have to be vigilant: Keep my goal in mind
without seeking out the problems. I'd really hate to find out I've been
planning a route from one problem to the next instead of my goal.</div>
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<br /></div>Susan Schreyerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11902407971890082541noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3956918803111761381.post-67364175293970661032012-04-05T21:48:00.000-07:002012-04-05T21:48:06.724-07:00The Plan: Have A Plan<br />
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Late last month I had the opportunity to ride in a dressage clinic with Henrik Johansen. I love riding in clinics with him. He's a wonderful teacher. I always leave excited about riding and knowing where I need to improve. </div>
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This time was no different. I rode my friend Fable because Eddie, although back to work again, is not far enough along in his rehab to endure the demands of a weekend clinic. I've ridden Fable in the past couple of clinics and it works well, since I bring the lessons I learn home to Eddie. I did this time too, of course.</div>
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As I was riding one of the exercises Henrik had coached me through at the clinic, I started thinking about something else he'd said. "Ride with a plan. Don't ride by reacting to the horse."</div>
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Was I doing that?</div>
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Well … sort of. I had a plan, but I was very intent on figuring out if Eddie was actually doing it. </div>
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I changed my thinking. I took a deep breath, squared up my posture and let go of all that "gotta do it" tension.</div>
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"I am doing the exercise correctly myself," I said, not entirely believing it. "And when I do it right, it feels exactly like this." (insert active imagination here). </div>
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Then the most amazing thing happened: Eddie improved in one step.</div>
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Go figure. Although I should have known. After all, it's not news to me -- I "talk" this stuff all the time.</div>
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Guess I don’t always "walk" it.</div>
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And that got me to thinking -- is that what I do in my daily life? Do I fret every minute to be sure everything is "just so," checking to see if all my ducks are lined up properly? Do I have a plan I focus on, or am I reacting to each moment, watching for things to go wrong?</div>
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Maybe I should just march forward and let all my ducks line up behind me while I lead the way. After all, not all of us can follow. Somebody has to get out in front. It's my life. It might as well be me.</div>
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<br /></div>Susan Schreyerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11902407971890082541noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3956918803111761381.post-36012212675948698712011-11-18T10:30:00.001-08:002011-11-18T21:30:53.635-08:00The Importance of Nothing<br />
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Much of our attention when we ride is focused on What To Do to produce the desired result. It occurred to me the other day -- and it always seems like I get these revelations after riding in a clinic with <a href="http://www.positiveriding.com/">Henrik Johansen</a> -- that much of our time in the saddle should be spent doing nothing. </div>
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What? Slouch along like a sack of potatoes? Snooze in the saddle?</div>
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No, of course not. I don't mean you, the rider, shouldn't care about what the horse is or isn't doing. "Doing Nothing" means you let him do what he needs to do, give him the responsibility to carry out his part of the task without nagging -- or, as I sometimes think of it, "helping."</div>
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Henrik pointed out that when I used continual aids Fable (yes, that "Fable" -- Eddie isn't ready to go back to the work a clinic requires yet) became somewhat sullen and resistent. He also pointed out that when I simply rode in balance and with my plan in mind Fable relaxed and showed the true beauty of his gaits.</div>
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Now here's the important part.</div>
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At no time was I overtly, much less strongly, driving the horse forward. Of course I was trying to do the exercises Henrik was asking of us, and of course I wanted to be perfect. However, what I wasn't doing was the "Nothing" that not only gave Fable the opportunity to show me he could do his job, but also told him I approved of and trusted him. </div>
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I lacked the pure "Nothing" that allowed Fable to shine his brightest.</div>
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Think of it this way: Look at a painting of say, a horse. The horse is defined by the lines and brush strokes that depict its body, limbs, neck, etc. But it's also defined by the space around it -- the empty space. Empty space plays an important role, but it is space you don't notice because it doesn't intrude. If there's something wrong with the empty space, it muddies the painting.</div>
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Don't believe me? Take a look at some "camouflage" art. <a href="https://www.artifactsgallery.com/art.asp?!=A&ID=612">Bev Doolittle's</a> paintings are a particular favorite of mine. She hides people and animals in the negative space of her paintings. I went to a talk she gave once, years and years ago, and remember clearly how impressed I was at the complex process, the layers and layers of planning she went through to create a single painting.</div>
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That "Empty Space" isn't ever as empty as it seems. It serves a purpose and takes training to get right. </div>
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I can't help but notice how much time I spend every day filling space with activity. Less frantic "doing" and more purposeful "quiet" to allow the important things to shine through might be a good life lesson. And likely as difficult to accomplish out of the saddle as in it. </div>
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<br /></div>Susan Schreyerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11902407971890082541noreply@blogger.com24tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3956918803111761381.post-62024599124109402142011-10-11T08:34:00.000-07:002011-10-11T08:34:04.983-07:00You Can't Make Me<div class="MsoNormal">
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I've had "Fable," a dark bay Holsteiner gelding, in training
for a number years. I adore him. He's a handsome fellow with more than a couple
of interesting quirks.</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-drxUgHHEWxE/TpRgrDonXNI/AAAAAAAAApU/daw5XikrgHA/s1600/Fable--head+shots+july+%252710+003.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-drxUgHHEWxE/TpRgrDonXNI/AAAAAAAAApU/daw5XikrgHA/s200/Fable--head+shots+july+%252710+003.jpg" width="121" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Fable - busy thinking</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Let me be very clear that the very first time I met him he
oozed attitude. It was a while ago, so I'd be lying if I said I saw something
more noble under that sullen and disrespectful demeanor. However, I know myself
well enough to say that I must have. I like a challenge, but I'm no fool. I
want at least a flicker of hope that I'll succeed before I start a project.
Otherwise, why bother? And frankly, with a horse, why put yourself at such
physical risk?</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Since that first meeting, Fable has taught me well. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
He has taught me that cooperation requires respect from both
parties. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
His "you can't make me" attitude has shown me that
"yes, I can" must not only be accompanied by firmness, but also a
willingness to change an approach when no progress is noted, coupled with a
dogged determination to focus on the clarity of the goal. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
He has taught me not to let a moment of disagreement dissolve
into a fight where the focus becomes the fight.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
No one wins in that situation.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
So, what has been the outcome? Has he abandoned his
attitude, donned the mantle of submission? Transformed into a shining example
of cooperation? </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Well … not exactly. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
He's lost the sullenness, but he's retained his opinionated
personality. Sure, his first reaction is still to argue when he doesn't
understand a request, but the arguments are brief (far less explosive) and
simply a way of communicating that he is unclear. He knows I'm listening to him
-- no need to wage a war. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
And here's the really cool thing: Once he understands, he
not only does what he's asked, but improves with each repetition. I call that,
"generosity." I'd never have known he possessed that quality of
spirit when we first met.</div>Susan Schreyerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11902407971890082541noreply@blogger.com15tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3956918803111761381.post-40181672179471466942011-08-28T20:58:00.000-07:002011-08-28T20:58:48.154-07:00Silver Bullets<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Last week Eddie's vet came out to see him and check on his
progress. He took some x-rays and found out Eddie damaged another joint in his
lower leg -- the pastern joint -- when he fractured the coffin bone. The
fracture has healed well, but there is arthritis in the pastern joint. Not a
good situation. Allowed to progress, it could make him permanently lame. The
course of treatment involved injecting both the coffin joint and the pastern
joint with steroids. The injections aren't a silver bullet -- Eddie isn't
magically (or chemically) healed, but they help limit or arrest the progress of
the arthritis. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The good news is that rehab is continuing. We've been
allowed to trot -- in a very restricted way -- and although there's some
limping in the turns to the left, he seems to be improving bit by bit. We are
proceeding very conservatively since, as Eddie's vet says, he's being asked to
use parts of his body he hasn't used in about a year. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The rest of the good news is that Eddie is very pleased.
He's delighted to show me how good he can be.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
However, we still have a long way to go, and the ultimate
outcome is still up for grabs.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Isn't that the way progress is usually made? Step-by-step
persistence, even when the road looks unbearably long and rough. It's like
Woody Allen's famous statement, "80% of success is just showing up."
The other 20% is willingness to follow instruction and advice, talent, acquired
skill, help from others, and anything else that makes up the mix of what is
required to achieve your goal. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Regardless of the goal -- whether it be horse-rehab, writing
my next book, or weeding the garden -- I need to remember not to put more mental
emphasis on the 20% than the 80%. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I will keep showing up. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I will not quit before I reach my goal. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
It's pretty obvious Eddie plans on showing up, too.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
Susan Schreyerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11902407971890082541noreply@blogger.com17tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3956918803111761381.post-61454489807321973742011-08-13T08:59:00.000-07:002011-08-13T08:59:21.231-07:00Riding Eddie<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
It's been about a month since the vet told me Eddie could be ridden -- at the walk only, and for a few minutes at a time. I'd been gazing longingly at that strong back since I'd been allowed to hand walk him and wondering if and when I'd be permitted up
there. I have to admit, I intended to blog about the experience when it
happened but, as most writers know, when emotion hits you it's a little hard
to share the experience in any reasonably coherent manner right off the bat. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
My husband went to the barn with me, camera in hand. The barn
owner, my friend Stacey, was in attendance as well. I'm pretty certain both of
them were a little worried about how Eddie might react when I swung a leg over
his back. After all, the last time I rode him was October 2010. Even the vet
warned me not to get bucked off.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Reins in hand, I stepped into the stirrup from the mounting
block, settled into the saddle and … Eddie moved forward as if the confinement
of the last nine months had never happened, as if he'd had his usual work-out
yesterday, as if he expected me there on his back. He went to work, striding
forward solid and strong.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
We made it three quarters of the way around the arena before
I started to cry.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Even my husband forgot to take pictures.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Next week we may be permitted to trot. I'm fairly certain I won't be crying, but I sure as heck will be grinning.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
Here's a picture from a year ago</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-cobeU7kONUc/TkaclVa9h2I/AAAAAAAAAo8/SPPhd_njQ_4/s1600/Eddie+and+me+July+%252710.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-cobeU7kONUc/TkaclVa9h2I/AAAAAAAAAo8/SPPhd_njQ_4/s320/Eddie+and+me+July+%252710.jpg" width="275" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
"I am strong when I am on your shoulders. You raise me
up to more than I can be." </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: 10.0pt;">--<i>Brendan Graham, Rolf Lovland</i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: 10.0pt;"><i><br /></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: 10.0pt;"><i><br /></i></span></div>
Susan Schreyerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11902407971890082541noreply@blogger.com19tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3956918803111761381.post-72220929520085260272011-06-04T20:04:00.000-07:002011-06-04T20:04:23.980-07:00The Eddie Report<div class="MsoNormal">I've held off a bit reporting on Eddie's progress in recovering from the fracture he incurred last October because, well, I've been afraid to jinx things. I know, I know. It's silly of me, but I just couldn't help myself. When something is touching-my-soul important I hold my mental breath until I'm very very sure I'm not wishful thinking or jumping to celebrate too soon.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">So far, right this very minute, he's doing just GREAT! Walking down hill produces some awkward steps, but if I ask him to stop and take a minute to re-group, he can continue with a good open stride. Progress is being made!</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">He's been thrilled to get out, too -- and been remarkably well behaved. Sure, he's had a light dose of sedative, but just enough to take the crazy-happy dance edge off. He marches right along, alert and smiling. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-WM3CPWv6Rv8/TerxqD5-YBI/AAAAAAAAAn8/Lt7d2HFsfJw/s1600/EddieRoundabout2011+003.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="239" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-WM3CPWv6Rv8/TerxqD5-YBI/AAAAAAAAAn8/Lt7d2HFsfJw/s320/EddieRoundabout2011+003.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I know we've only walked for a week now, and are a long ways away from saddling up, not to mention trotting or cantering, but this is progress. And it feels like that terrible gray cloud that's been following me around has lifted. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Thanks to each and every one of you for your good wishes, kind words, and heartfelt prayers. Eddie is on the home stretch!</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div>Susan Schreyerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11902407971890082541noreply@blogger.com20tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3956918803111761381.post-63045778196923412602011-05-07T09:11:00.000-07:002011-05-07T09:11:04.929-07:00Leaning into Joy<div class="MsoNormal">I heard a phrase the other day that pulled up such a mental picture that I haven't been able to forget it. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">"Lean into Joy" is what the woman said. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">The very first thing I thought about was how Eddie leans into a good back-scratch (what we humans call "grooming"). His neck extends, his eyes close, and that upper lip stretches and wiggles like he's returning the favor. When I get to a spot he especially likes, he leans all of his 1200 pounds into the curry comb. He's been known to stagger with the shift in balance. I'm surprised he hasn't fallen down. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">What do I do? I do just exactly what every other horse owner does -- I scratch him harder and laugh. I love to see him so blissed out.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">That got me to thinking. Do I do that? When something great happens, do I embrace it and, well, lean into it? I used to -- when I was much younger.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I think as we get older we know there's another shoe that is going to drop. It's tough being disappointed, and we try to protect ourselves from it. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">But there's something else, too. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Sometimes the good stuff that happens to us is at the same time something not so wonderful happens to the people we care about -- friends, family. Sometimes we get singled out for happiness while other folks have to watch. Personally, I hate to rub other people's noses in my good fortune, but by the same token, just like Eddie's bliss at a good back scratch, I have to remember that the joy of my friends and family lifts my heart. I want to happy dance right along with them. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">They need that gift of joy from me, too.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Happy Mother's Day to all. Share the joy -- it makes it that much better.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #4c1130; font-size: large;">"Those who joy would win --</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #4c1130; font-size: large;">Must share it. Happiness was born a twin"</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-b71ZWX50UmM/TcVuVknZWxI/AAAAAAAAAmE/PhBqEcYtOcg/s1600/garden+june+07+004.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-b71ZWX50UmM/TcVuVknZWxI/AAAAAAAAAmE/PhBqEcYtOcg/s320/garden+june+07+004.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>-- George Gordon Noel Byron</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div>Susan Schreyerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11902407971890082541noreply@blogger.com16tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3956918803111761381.post-25001745676151428512011-03-13T20:27:00.000-07:002011-03-13T20:27:46.690-07:00Becoming Brave<div class="MsoNormal">Riders are brave people, and not just for climbing on top of an animal that can easily weight 10 times what a human tips the scale at, has a mind of its own and is (potentially) afraid of everything. Riders are brave because the very things that are intuitively the correct means of saving one's ass must be abandoned for the things that are intuitively the last thing one would expect to do and stay alive.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">For example; when we humans are on something that is moving and we get scared, we tend to hunch forward and crouch making ourselves smaller and closer to the moving object. If we're straddling something, we grab it with our legs and try to anchor our hands on something solid. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Do that on a horse and you're taking the short way to the ground. Guaranteed.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Therefore, we school ourselves to sit tall, push our chests out, lengthen our legs without gripping, and not drag on the reins like they were our last hope.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Then, as if that weren't enough, we have to learn that when a horse seems out of control we must make him respond to our driving aids. In other words, we must kick him forward. To own a horse's mind, one must own his butt.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">None of this is stuff makes much sense, initially. We must listen to instructors and trust in their knowledge and experience. And we must swallow down what we desperately want to do and replace it with something we are sure will kill us. It takes and equal measure of guts and a deep faith that someone else has already figured out how to do this to make ourselves even try. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">And don't think this happens over night. There are setback and frustrations when the "right" thing doesn't seem to come close to working. Through all the mistakes, however, we make progress.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Much of what we face in life is the same way. We must gather our courage, have faith in someone else's knowledge, and try and fail repeatedly in order to make progress.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">What "horse" are you trying to ride? What knee-jerk "truths" have you found to be exactly the opposite of what you need? What leap of faith have you made in trusting someone else's knowledge?</div>Susan Schreyerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11902407971890082541noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3956918803111761381.post-91047931528607567182011-02-27T19:50:00.000-08:002011-02-27T19:50:03.559-08:00Faking it<div class="MsoNormal">We've had some nasty weather lately. Who hasn't, right? But here in the Northwest, we're never prepared for it. Yeah, it rains -- we get that. But snow … now that's something you'd think we'd never seen before. Generally, it doesn't stick around long. Including lately. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">However, there was some left and it was still pretty chilly the other day when I was teaching. Our arena has a roof, but is open on the sides. I like it. Even when the weather is bad we stay fairly well protected. But, the horses can tend to get a little "looky" when things change outside of the arena. With the cold air and patches of white snow here and there my student's horse was -- well, let's call him a little "fresh." My student was feeling a little nervous about riding him, but she's a good rider with a good position and I knew if she got her mind in the right place she could handle her horse just fine. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Horses sense tension in those near them. When you sit on their backs and pick up the reins you can easily transmit tension through your seat, legs, and hands. When the rider is tense, the horse will reflect that and become tense as well. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">The solution is not to slump in a casual position, or throw the reins away, but to give the horse a job to focus on, and to be very careful to make your body operate with the same fluid movement you have when you're relaxed. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">In other words, fake your confidence.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">It worked perfectly, I'm happy to say. My student was able to fool her horse into thinking there was nothing more interesting than the job they were doing together. It took a lot of concentration on her part to be aware of just how and when tension would sneak in to her position, but we worked it through. She got a better handle on faking it. And the really great thing was that she conquered her nerves and found a level of confidence that was not bravado. A level she could access when she needed it. All by pretending. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">It's a lesson we can all carry in to those situations where we feel less than equal to the challenge. Don't bluster, or adopt an opposite attitude, but go forward as if you knew what you were doing, being aware of your equilibrium, the nuances of your expression and posture. Fake it until you make it. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">It's true. It works.</div>Susan Schreyerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11902407971890082541noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3956918803111761381.post-54318053702296220932011-02-15T08:02:00.000-08:002011-02-15T08:02:34.836-08:00Eddie-Buddha<div class="MsoNormal">What month is this? February? Must be. It was just Valentine's Day. Eddie's been convalescing for four months now. It seems like forever. Considering that he's the one cooped up day after day, you'd think he'd be going a bit nuts -- but he's not. He's the same reasonable guy he always is. He's like a horse-Buddha.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-0VYILvjaXUw/TASK22gwU2I/AAAAAAAAAPo/brkn3hVv9gk/s1600/Cheryl+%2526+Anne+034.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-0VYILvjaXUw/TASK22gwU2I/AAAAAAAAAPo/brkn3hVv9gk/s200/Cheryl+%2526+Anne+034.jpg" width="142" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Put a furry winter coat on him, and this is still Eddie's expression after 4 month on stall rest.<br />
</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="MsoNormal">I'm not as patient or as accepting of the status quo as he is. I tend toward impatience, or at least a certain single-mindedness. Does the laundry need to be done? Do it! Hungry? Eat! A report due next week? Do it now! And yet….</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Life rarely affords one the luxury of being that efficient. Extenuating circumstances seems to pop up everywhere. There are times, more frequent than I care to admit, where my to-do list grows to such proportions that it threatens to topple over and bury me. And all because of those danged extenuating circumstances. They're beyond my control, yet <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">they</i> control <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">me</i> to a degree, and <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">that</i> causes me to fret. I think I need to take a page from Eddie-Buddha and expend my energy more wisely. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">It is what it is. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Do that which you can do. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Live wisely in the present.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Thanks, Eddie. </div>Susan Schreyerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11902407971890082541noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3956918803111761381.post-46301038864005623812011-02-09T07:35:00.000-08:002011-02-09T07:35:20.440-08:00Getting Sidetracked<div class="MsoNormal">I'm back! And my apologies for being out of touch. There's been lots going on and only so many hours in the day (although I've petitioned for more, my request seems to have gotten lost somewhere. Go figure). It's been a mix of stuff, too, some happy and some not so happy.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_mnAAl7Q6-oA/TVKwNFXrW9I/AAAAAAAAAlY/QKpDktYojOs/s1600/Fable--head+shots+july+%252710+003.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_mnAAl7Q6-oA/TVKwNFXrW9I/AAAAAAAAAlY/QKpDktYojOs/s200/Fable--head+shots+july+%252710+003.jpg" width="121" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Fable -- deep in concentration</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="MsoNormal">Thank you all for your kind words about the loss of RB. His stablemate Fable is adjusting and has become even more fond of hanging out with the humans. RB's owner has been looking for another companion of the equine variety, and I'm sure one will turn up soon. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_mnAAl7Q6-oA/TVKt2GYwa3I/AAAAAAAAAlU/zCeBNKqEUaU/s1600/more+2007+pics+014.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="150" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_mnAAl7Q6-oA/TVKt2GYwa3I/AAAAAAAAAlU/zCeBNKqEUaU/s200/more+2007+pics+014.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The color-coordinated section of our Peaceable Kingdom<br />
Jasmine (who passed last year), Tal, and Eclaire</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">My own old kitty, Tal, passed on to the rainbow bridge last month, too. He was another senior citizen who led a full life. Although we are now cat-less, we still have the bunny and bird, and of course Eddie.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_mnAAl7Q6-oA/TCQy1SQEeuI/AAAAAAAAAPw/Z_4MFVJ1X0A/s1600/IMG00126.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="160" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_mnAAl7Q6-oA/TCQy1SQEeuI/AAAAAAAAAPw/Z_4MFVJ1X0A/s200/IMG00126.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Eddie -- without his winter coat</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="MsoNormal">Eddie is still on stall rest, but is doing well. He continues to be an excellent patient, and the last time his vet took x-rays he said the fracture was healing beautifully. There's every chance he will recover and be able to go back to the dressage work we both love so much. He's now sporting a special shoe instead of a cast, and the places on his heals where the cast rubbed have also healed -- thanks in large part to Stacey, the stable's owner and my good friend.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><o:p><br />
</o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><o:p><br />
</o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_mnAAl7Q6-oA/TJ4mrehgPVI/AAAAAAAAAd0/EE76efTyLN8/s1600/Copy+of+DBADfinal.cover+%2528boarder%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_mnAAl7Q6-oA/TJ4mrehgPVI/AAAAAAAAAd0/EE76efTyLN8/s200/Copy+of+DBADfinal.cover+%2528boarder%2529.jpg" width="134" /></a>On the writing front, <u>Death By A Dark Horse</u>, has been doing well, and it made Amazon's Hot New Release List for both mysteries and women sleuths! That was a thrill! The list is updated hourly and it hung in on those list for well over a week! </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">The Blog Tour de Force in January was a huge success as well as a lot of fun. It was work, and a bit confusing at times (from my end, anyway), but well worth it. I'm sure there are more than a couple new readers here who found their way from that tour. Welcome, to all of you!</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><o:p><br />
</o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_mnAAl7Q6-oA/TT9GGIKYMAI/AAAAAAAAAkE/tF4ei6iyhgY/s1600/Thea2cover.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_mnAAl7Q6-oA/TT9GGIKYMAI/AAAAAAAAAkE/tF4ei6iyhgY/s200/Thea2cover.jpg" width="154" /></a>The second in my mystery series, <u>Levels Of Deception </u>will be out in e-book form this month. Phew! Edits are still being worked on, but I see light at the end of the tunnel. It's a longer book than DBADH, and takes place not only in Western Washington, but Montana, too. Stolen dinosaur fossils are the focus in this story, in addition to a murder -- all of which Thea must solve. For those of you who are Blackie fans, don't worry. He's there, too!</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">So, what have my horses taught me to deal with this flurry of activity (you knew I was going here, right?)? Mostly, that no matter how orderly you strive to make your life, the unplanned and the unexpected will arise. In those times of need, if you pause for a moment to scratch someone else's back when they need it, you'll find they return the favor.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div>Susan Schreyerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11902407971890082541noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3956918803111761381.post-47446843700889432542011-01-18T08:38:00.000-08:002011-01-18T08:38:54.532-08:00RB - 1985 to 2011<div class="MsoNormal">Yesterday, January 17, 2011, a long-time and very dear friend of mine passed away. RB was an Appaloosa gelding, and for almost his whole life belonged to my friend Cheryl. He was just two days shy of 26 -- a long life for a horse. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Although he'd been retired for several years, RB was always in the center of social activity. He never failed to greet me -- or anyone else -- when arriving at his barn. He continued to boss around his best horse-friend, demand treats and attention from the humans, and issue orders. It was impossible to ignore RB and equally impossible not to be taken in by his outgoing personality. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Although he could be a challenge, requiring his rider to stay alert and be a strong leader, he was talented and athletic. He had a cadence to his trot that was both lovely to watch and sit, and he excelled at lateral work. Dressage suited him, keeping his intelligent mind busy and focused.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_mnAAl7Q6-oA/TTXBhva91eI/AAAAAAAAAj4/kETKCBVc6MQ/s1600/Horseys+025.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="299" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_mnAAl7Q6-oA/TTXBhva91eI/AAAAAAAAAj4/kETKCBVc6MQ/s320/Horseys+025.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I will miss his bright eyes and loud, friendly whinny, but I believe he is romping in green pastures now with my own Tiki and Brinn.</div>Susan Schreyerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11902407971890082541noreply@blogger.com14tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3956918803111761381.post-14614306717465376102011-01-11T17:23:00.000-08:002011-01-11T17:28:37.937-08:00It's The Little Things...<div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Training is often a process of breaking a goal down into its essential pieces. What is required of me, as the trainer, is that I understand the steps my horse needs in order to accomplish what I'm asking. The steps are basic, even simple. If they can be done correctly and in proper order then my horse can accomplish the goal I have set down for him. It also helps if my horse is rewarded for those steps. He stands a better chance of understanding them, and therefore repeating them, if there's something in it for him.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">When Eddie was a youngster I learned very quickly the value of bribery. Punishment didn't work with him -- he'd just leave. In fact, it wasn't only punishment that would have him exiting stage right. He'd cooperate with me so long as it amused him, or interested him, but once something else seemed like more fun I'd be a bit hard pressed to change his mind. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">What I learned from my intelligent, independent horse was to reward all the little steps toward the goal, and not wait until we had a difference of opinion about something. What happened wasn't a spoiled horse, it was a horse who gradually understood it was more fun to be with me than not. He learned to go where he was led, stand when being groomed and behave himself when being ridden. In short, he's become a pleasant, reliable companion -- a quality that can't be overemphasized in a 1300 pound animal. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Of course, not every horse needs Eddie's level of coercion. Most don't. But I was thinking along these lines the other day when I set myself up with the goal of cleaning my kitchen. If you've been following this blog at all, you have a good idea where I'm going with this: I can relate everything in life to training horses (it's a gift, I know). Even cleaning the kitchen. It had reached a state of disaster due to me being involved in too many other things and nobody else seeming to care. If it was going to be cleaned, I was going to have to do it, and quite frankly running away seemed like a good option. I was that overwhelmed. Until…yup, I broke it down into its basic, essential parts. Since I really didn't want to gain back the poundage I have managed to lose lately by eating cookies each time I accomplished one item, I wrote it down. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Wipe down the counters? </div><div class="MsoNormal">Check. </div><div class="MsoNormal">Clean under the burners? </div><div class="MsoNormal">Check. </div><div class="MsoNormal">Mop the floor? </div><div class="MsoNormal">Check. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">And so it went. I wrote down every little, trivial thing. By the time I was done, not only was the kitchen clean, but the list I'd compiled gave me a very satisfactory feeling of accomplishment -- as I was doing it. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">It's the little rewards that help along the way…for people as well as horses.</div>Susan Schreyerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11902407971890082541noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3956918803111761381.post-70540744142195592882011-01-04T21:39:00.000-08:002011-01-04T21:39:20.229-08:00Remind me again....?<div class="MsoNormal">Horses have great memories. They remember places, people, training, where the food is kept, you name it. And they remember for a whole lot longer than we do -- or so it seems. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Years ago I owned a gelding and a mare who were stabled together until a significant injury had me move the gelding to a barn where he could rehab and possibly retire. Two years of pasture rest seemed to do the trick -- he recovered. I moved him to the new stable I was working out of to put him back to work. The first day I led him out to his new paddock we passed one of my students leading my mare to the barn. Both horses stopped and did a double take. Disney couldn't have done a better job. It was not only obvious they recognized each other, but that they were pleased to see each other, too.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">In his younger days, Eddie proved to me multiple times that once he figured out how to work a latch, he'd do it again -- immediately. He kept me on my toes trying to come up with stall and pasture latches he couldn't undo.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">When not being entertained by it, I use this great memory of theirs in training. It's part of the communication ground rules: when I do this, you do that. The trick is to be consistent. I know I'm muddling things up when I'm not getting the same response from the horse. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I'm actually envious of that great memory. I could use it sometimes…like when I misplace my keys. Hmm…maybe if I was more consistent with my own habits….</div>Susan Schreyerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11902407971890082541noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3956918803111761381.post-8626601733089584412010-12-27T19:13:00.000-08:002010-12-27T19:13:15.520-08:00Pass me a mocha, I'm just getting started.<div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Most of the serious work-time we spend on our horses' backs is, or should be, devoted to warming up. Regardless of the goal-of-the-moment, we have to physically and mentally prepare for the day's new lesson. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Yeah, it's tedious. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">And no, it can't be skipped. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Not only does the horse need to be prepared before he's asked to exert himself just a little more, but the rider has to prepare, too. Nobody hits the saddle ready to rock and roll. Even when you ride one horse after another there is a certain amount of adjustment, both mental and physical, that needs to be done with each horse. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">What happens when we skip the warm up and plunge into the daily lesson? The warm-up insists on being done anyway. It's like a persistent little terrier. It won't go away. And if you don't pay attention and do what needs to be done, it will get underfoot and trip you up. Count on it. You cannot bully this little dog into submission. It will bite your butt. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">The plus side is that the better you prepare, the more conscientious you are about your warm-up, the better the performance of the lesson-of-the-day. The warm-up is where you catch the problems and put into effect the solutions. It's where the questions are cleared up and the groundwork laid for more advanced work. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Are you not accomplishing what you thought you should, despite working hard? Take a look at your warm-up. I'll bet you a double-tall mocha you're leaving something out.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Maybe, just maybe, the success we want to experience in other facets of our lives need the same attention paid to preparation. I'll wager another mocha on that one.</div>Susan Schreyerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11902407971890082541noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3956918803111761381.post-18202482713654849392010-12-12T19:45:00.000-08:002010-12-12T19:45:42.654-08:00Just Shoot Me Now.<div class="MsoNormal">My initial reaction when someone points out that I should have known something specific and didn't is to hoist a huge burden of guilt onto my own shoulders. I'll wonder why I didn't notice that glaring deficit of knowledge before committing the crime of ignorance. To aid in avoiding this situation, I keep a calendar, write myself notes (which are constantly revised), and never go to the grocery store without a list -- even if there's only three things on it. Furthermore, "I forgot," ranks right up there with "I didn't know" for reasons for self-reproach. I'm willing to bet I'm not the only one with that knee-jerk reaction.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Occasionally, I run into a horse who really fears making a mistake. They're nervous, uncertain creatures with little confidence in themselves. Working with them is extremely difficult. It's necessary not to over-face them, and essential not to punish them. If they're to become safe and reliable they have to have confidence in their surroundings and the people who work with them before they have confidence in themselves and their job. It's a long road requiring enormous amounts of patience and skill. A brief unkindness can undo months of work. Lack of consistency will make undermine trust. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Horses aren't as good at hiding their inner feelings as humans. They'll show us the effect we're having on them right away. And, to our credit, a great many of us take lessons, read, listen and watch in order to be better at working with the animals we love. I can't help but think those same efforts would be well applied to our human interactions as well. Who needs all that guilt, anyway?</div>Susan Schreyerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11902407971890082541noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3956918803111761381.post-45167728494162229222010-12-07T09:51:00.000-08:002010-12-07T09:51:13.173-08:00How's that workin' out for you?<div class="MsoNormal">Progress rarely proceeds in a straight line. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I've heard that before, and always get a mental image of mildly hysterical, to and fro dashing around. Probably because that's what it feels like to me. I generate plenty internal anxiety when I'm learning something new -- often not understanding what the end result is supposed to be, or even why it's important. However, after (ahem) many years I know enough about my own process to be confident success will arrive with an "ah-ha" moment. For me, good guidance involves pointing out errors I didn't recognize myself as well as pointing out correct choices I also may not have noticed. Perceiving disapproval from a teacher can really lock up my ability to make positive progress. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">So, when I train a horse I keep a close eye on mistakes of both the erroneous variety and the correct variety. I know the horse is learning when he doesn't make the exact same mistake twice in a row. New mistakes are cause for celebration. The same mistake generally indicates some kind of resistance that is blocking learning. That's where I have to step in and offer assistance. Often the resistance is due to incomplete understanding or misunderstanding of what is being asked. Sometimes it's fear-based. Sometimes there is a physical issue involved. Sometimes it's a combination. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Same thing happens when I teach humans. We make progress when we feel safe enough to try -- when the fear of making mistakes won't cause so much anxiety that we stop looking at what is happening as a result of our actions and start, instead, to protect ourselves, getting locked in a non-productive cycle. Teaching is as much about creating the right environment as it is about imparting information at the right time, asking questions that nudge the student toward the goal, then allowing the student to work through the process.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Maybe "So, how's that workin' out for you?" isn't always a snarky one-liner. I'm thinking it's a good teaching aid, too. Sometimes we need to be reminded to take a look at the results of our mistakes. We could make progress!</div>Susan Schreyerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11902407971890082541noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3956918803111761381.post-48978952262405208172010-12-02T07:37:00.000-08:002010-12-02T07:37:19.240-08:00Playing Nurse<div class="MsoNormal">Eddie got his cast off on Friday…and then got it back on again. That was planned, actually. Even though it's been six weeks since he fractured his coffin bone our vet Ron felt it best we try and keep the joint as immobile as possible for as long as possible since the fracture line extends into the joint. Good thing the cast came off when it did. There were rub spots on the bulbs of his heel that were bleeding. Despite the fact that they are superficial, they needed bandaging and tending. Unfortunately, that also meant the cast couldn't go back on the same way, keeping the joint as still as possible. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Eddie was really good about the whole process -- except he itched. A lot. He doesn't scratch his legs like most horses -- with his teeth -- he crosses one leg over the other and rubs. We each took turns scratching his pastern (the part of his leg just above the hoof) until he seemed satisfied. I know how "cast itch" feels, having had to wear one on my arm several years ago. I used to stick a knitting needle between my arm and cast to deal with it. My doctor wasn't amused, as I recall.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Nevertheless, the reapplication process of the cast went well. Ron wasn't particularly worried that Eddie is still doing some limping. He gave me an assignment; change the bandage over the rub wound every three or four days. Then he gave me detailed instructions.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">No problem.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Right.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">The first bandage change was yesterday. I cut the old bandage away, and that's when the challenging part began. Yeah, the rub spots looked icky, but they weren't stinky or painful. What they were was itchy. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">The next half hour progressed with me scrambling to clean and redress the wound, hollering "Whoa" and "Whoa, dammit," and flinging supplies around the barn aisle-way to keep them out of the way. Eddie ended up with half a tube of Neosporin smeared down the front of his opposite leg and a foot bandaged. I'm not even sure it was the correct foot.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">What a freaking disaster.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Fortunately my friend Stacey, who owns the barn, dropped me an email later and told me that not only had I managed to bandage the correct foot, but it was still in place. I don't know how that happened. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">And to think I have to do this again in three more days. </div>Susan Schreyerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11902407971890082541noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3956918803111761381.post-40819498342557669702010-11-22T06:22:00.000-08:002010-11-22T06:22:46.380-08:00Stepping Away From The Familiar<div class="MsoNormal">Lucky me. I got to ride in a dressage clinic last week with Henrik Johansen, despite the fact that Eddie is still convalescing. One of my students, Anne Christensen, allowed me to ride her horse Fable, a 15 year-old Holsteiner gelding. Although I've trained Fable and Anne for years I've never ridden him in a lesson myself. It was exhausting, but wonderful. Henrik pushed us just enough to nudge us along to new levels of accomplishment. Fable was just as pleased as me when all was said and done. And Henrik was, too. He said he learned a lot watching me ride a different horse. Really? </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I asked him about that.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">What he learned was that I really know more than he thought. Cool. Everyone wants to look smart, right? But…um….Okay, July -- our last clinic with Henrik -- wasn't exactly Eddie and my finest couple of hours, but we'd ridden with him before…lots of "befores" -- years, in fact. Didn't that count?</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I asked him about that.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Evidently, Eddie and I know each other so well that I spend a good deal of time reacting instead of acting like a leader. I didn't realize I did that, but since he mentioned it, and I've had time to think about it, I have to say he's right. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Depth of knowledge is a wonderful thing. We call it having a "history" with some one -- be it human or otherwise. That history can shape our behavior, our attitudes, and the way we feel about ourselves. While often a comfort, sometime we need to step out of that circle of familiar action and reaction to test ourselves, and find out what we are truly capable of. Fable taught me to be more conscious of my role as leader. Eddie needs that from me and I hope I can bring that back to him when we finally get to work together again. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I'm thinking most relationships can benefit from similar growth. Now I can't help thinking about my kids….</div>Susan Schreyerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11902407971890082541noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3956918803111761381.post-72914312764337138472010-11-15T07:07:00.000-08:002010-11-15T07:07:39.519-08:00CELEBRATE!My horses have always supported the spread of happiness, joy and good cheer! With that in mind, today's post isn't so "off topic"!!<br />
<br />
Today is Launch Day for my debut mystery novel <u>Death By A Dark Horse</u><br />
<u><br />
</u><br />
It's available on <a href="http://www.amazon.com/dp/B004C44ET8">Amazon</a> and <a href="http://www.smashwords.com/books/view/28391">Smashwords</a> for $2.99<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_mnAAl7Q6-oA/TJ4mrehgPVI/AAAAAAAAAd0/EE76efTyLN8/s1600/Copy+of+DBADfinal.cover+%2528boarder%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_mnAAl7Q6-oA/TJ4mrehgPVI/AAAAAAAAAd0/EE76efTyLN8/s320/Copy+of+DBADfinal.cover+%2528boarder%2529.jpg" width="215" /></a></div>Susan Schreyerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11902407971890082541noreply@blogger.com0