Five years ago, June of 2020, my first book was published: “The Elements of Horse Spirit— The Magical Bond Between Humans and Horses.” I was so very, very proud of this achievement. Getting published on something other than newsprint was a lifelong goal. I wanted to celebrate it to the skies, but you know what else was happening in June 2020? The pandemic.

The entire country was on lockdown, and most everyone was seized in dread and panic as COVID gobbled up life after life. We were all scared — of the disease, of going out in public, of each other. Really dark and dreadful times. My beautiful little book had almost no chance of gathering any attention.

The book was inspired by several things — the advice of one friend to write it (weren’t all the horse books already written? Turns out – no.), another friend who encouraged me to pitch the book to Llewellyn Publications again, following a lackluster attempt previously. “Just try again,” was that magic spark. My friend believed in me more than I believed in myself, and I decided to trust that rather than my own pessimism. So glad I did. The pitch was successful, and I wrote the book in a mere six months. Blasted through at lightning speed, because I already knew this book in my heart. I just had to get it down on paper.

The core inspiration for this book was my four-legged spiritual partner, my beloved horse Pendragon — “Penn.” Essentially a rescue (his owner was unable to care for him anymore due to health concerns), yet another friend introduced me to that sad, bored, dusty old horse, and the bond was instant. We may have many horses in our lives, but there is always The One. That one whose spirit entwines with your own, who takes up residence in your heart. Penn was my coach, my confidante, and my dearest friend. There are many stories about him in the book, and many of the practices began with him.

About a year after turning in the manuscript, the book was born. I deeply love this book. Was never crazy about the cover. Many people assumed it was Penn, because both are cinnamon-colored sorrels, but no. That was not Penn. There is a photo of him with me on the back cover, and clearly, they are not the same horse. The horse on the cover began with an artist’s vision, not my Penn.

Penn was old when I got him — 20, or so I thought. A friend found his Hanoverian registration on a website, and we discovered he was actually two years older than that. I knew my time with him was limited, and that was a kick in the gut. I instantly lost two years. But oh, the years we had. Penn enabled me to start riding again after a 35-year gap. My inner Horsey Girl was revived! I was absorbed in learning new horsemanship methods, taking beginning dressage lessons, and took him out riding into the grassy hills surrounding the barn. Pure bliss.

Over the years, he began failing, little by little, one body part at a time, just as elderly humans do. He became unrideable, and transitioned to just becoming a companion, and in the last year of his life, at 29, he began failing exponentially, going completely lame, ultimately unable to control his body, or get up and down on his own. When a horse can no longer get up and down off the ground, that is the unfortunate milestone that means as a compassionate human partner, we must help that horse over the Rainbow Bridge.

The day he passed, Oct. 9, 2023, was amongst the most agonizing days of my life. It launched me into months of wrenching grief. My whole life had revolved around him for eight years, and without him, I felt spiritually and emotionally unmoored. Yet one more friend heard of my grief, and graciously offered me his own beloved horse to fill that aching gap. Little Mac was a furry, funny little Quarter Horse, who channels the spirit of a Golden Retriever and by all rights, is really a stuffed animal come to life. A sweeter creature never existed. But in the back of my mind, Mac was never really mine.

Before long, Mac’s health and soundness also began failing, ironically at the age of 29, and he was no longer rideable. Worse yet, he was in pain when he walked. I didn’t know what to do with him. I wasn’t even sure if I would get another horse if he also had to cross the Rainbow Bridge. Unlike Penn, he was otherwise quite healthy, and could likely trundle along happily for several more years. But — at 66, with my riding window closing — was this the horse experience I really wanted? No. But with no other horse in mind, and not wanting to have a difficult conversation with Mac’s former owner, we drifted along this way for many months — walking companions only, and me serving as his nurse and caretaker.

Then, one random day, a horse ad appeared in my Facebook feed, from one of those groups where people sell horses. I wasn’t even looking for a horse. But there it was, right in front of me. I’d had horrible experiences with Facebook horse traders in the days between Penn’s death and acquiring Mac, when not having a horse partner and desperately needing one drove me to look at some horses. Each time, the experience was a disappointment, and the horse traders oily and dishonest. I swore never to deal with a horse trader again. But this particular ad, on this particular day, captivated me: Tino, a cute little Quarter Horse gelding, needed a forever home. He had all the qualities I would have wanted, if I was looking for a horse. I scrolled past that ad, and returned to it again and again. Something was poking me.

Against all logic, I messaged Tino’s owner. And then we chatted on the phone. She was a professional horse trainer, not a trader, and was getting out of the horse business and looking for the right home for all her horses. Such a lovely gal, Veronica. She sent me some videos, and before I really knew what I was doing, I was up at her place, visiting this plucky little guy and taking him for a spin.

To be clear, although he was well-enough trained for my purposes and experience, he had a lot of rough edges. A lot of anxiety and reactiveness, mostly due to an unfortunate start in life, in the Mexican cattle-ranching world, which isn’t known for its kindness or compassion toward horses. Somewhere in his past, Tino’s tail was broken, possibly from flipping backwards and crushing it, and it healed with a couple visible kinks. I found it symbolic. Life busted my tail too, and yet — I kept moving forward anyway. As did Tino.

When Veronica first met Tino, he didn’t even have a name. He was just “the boy,” and that owner hit him with a rope to make him behave. He told her he would send him to auction (translation: slaughter) if someone didn’t buy him soon. Veronica told him, “Load him up,” and Tino went home with her. Finally, he had a name, and experienced kindness and loving care for the first time. She spent two years training him, and he progressed to becoming a lesson horse. But he still had a long way to go. When I met him, he was anxious and defensive about having the saddle put on, and his anxiety continued through the rest of our visit, evident in the worry lines over his eyes. He clearly wasn’t a polished, impeccably schooled horse like Penn, nor was he an in-your-pocket little buddy like Mac. He clearly had some rough edges, but that actually excited me. It was an opportunity to show this horse a new life, and learn new techniques and skills together..

I wanted him.

But, I made myself wait until I got home, to give me a little while to think on it. Right as I pulled on the freeway, one of my most sacred Animal Messengers — a red-tailed hawk, which symbolizes abundance and positivity — appeared perched on a highway sign. It was a thumbs-up from the Universe, for sure. I called Veronica as soon as I got home, and said I’d buy him. However, that meant saying “goodbye” to Mac. Two horses was more than I could afford, so I was forced me to finally contact Mac’s former owner and tell him Mac’s condition, and ask if he would please take him back and let him retire there in his pasture with his old buddy. My friend most graciously agreed. I was thrilled, and so relieved. Mac would live out his life with love and kindness, and the person who was his heart connection. Mac was picked up on one evening a few days later, and Tino arrived the next.

I’ve had Tino for almost two months now, and he is progressing beyond my wildest expectations. He is a joyful puzzle to solve, every day. My biggest project will be to ease his anxiety, particularly surrounding being saddled up, so he doesn’t feel the need to pin his ears and snake his head around when the saddle goes on. But other than that, he’s a happy little guy, very intelligent and learning more and more every day. I’m just thrilled to have him. This was the horse I needed at this particular moment in time. I’m certain that the Universe and Penn’s spirit orchestrated the whole thing from the Great Beyond. Evidence? We return to that book cover, and that unfamiliar horse. I was thinking about the book recently, and the cover, and slowly, as if materializing out of the mist,  the realization came: The horse on the cover is Tino. Look for yourself.

Ho-Lee-Crap!

The resemblance is astounding. Tino even arrived with the same type of halter the cover horse is wearing. That cover was a magical, spiritual communication for the future: This is the horse that will one day carry you forward on your path, as you will guide him forward on his. Isn’t magic marvelous?

 

(Signed copies of “The Elements of Horse Spirit” are available. Just contact me.)