As my horse and I travel up the rise of the one track trail onto the mesa it feels and looks different somehow. Not just the weather has kept me away for a few months. Injuries, new horse training. All that went before falls away as we get to experience the lightness of steps and rhythm of the shift in terrain.

At last, we have some beautiful weather. The breeze carries scents of new growth, perhaps some old loamy plant material enriching the earth. We hear and feel the slight tremble of small animals emerging from the land, ready to run in the sun, aware of us as we have been gone for many months.

In our part of the world, we have had a difficult winter. Footing has been terrible for long stretches and the cold reached into the bones and leached every desire to even buckle the girth. There were fewer days to ride or do any groundwork with horses.

The horses and I became restless. My horse had an injury, a pull to the hamstrings from whacking the points of his hips while charging through a half open gate.

There was a vet visit and a lot of bodywork in the beginning, then less as time went on. My vet told me that most horses would recover from that injury in six to nine months, but mine would probably recover in two-three months. It took a little more than one month.

What did I do? We took walks and did bodywork.

I had surgery last year, and certainly the surgery went well, and everything has visibly and deeply healed. But what has happened during the healing process? Different things have popped up – one of the first things was, my organs felt they had been reorganized. My joints would take turns complaining. Next, I no longer could get on my horse from the ground but need a mounting block. That will change, but for now that’s my reality. My surgeon was remarkably sensitive to my report and is happy that I’m healing faster than he expected.

What I find is my expectations can get in the way of my healing. My impatience with not being one hundred percent isn’t helpful. If I remain attentive I’m much better able to address the changes my body is making. If we think about our own bodies and how we might feel if we were the horse, when the horse is going through something, we might be able to have more patience with their process.

I found it hardest to deal with not being able to get into the saddle, or walk far. I can get remarkably out of touch with my own body. Many horse people are this way. This was a time for me to become extremely attentive. Every time is this time, but when something isn’t quite right, I become acutely aware of the need.

But back to the mesa, letting all those thoughts fall behind. In the saddle, I feel as though I’m home. We have at last achieved a place where we can comfortably ride out, the footing is good, the sun is out, there is no need to bring back the recent past as it is gone, let it go on the light breeze and keep eyes up on that magical horizon.

I feel when I am riding this horse that we have known each other forever, before we ever met in person, before I ever slipped on his back. There is something amoebic about it, like a James Michener novel, a “knowing” from the beginning of time. It took no time at all to come together as person and horse, horse and rider. He was already trained but highly nervous in his response to life. A horse that made me feel good because it was apparent that it was all about the relationship and the relationship was easy from the beginning. We were what each other wanted and needed.  It wasn’t one of those “relationship-building” challenges we hear so much about.

And now as we take in the beautiful spring light and easy whisper of the grasses, it feels like we have passed through a winter of quiet as well as some turmoil together, to come out of it to this. The ride is the reward for the bleakness of winter, but also the creativity discovered in winter, finding new ways to work with pain and mobility, and revisiting old ones.

Reaching a stopping point, there is nothing like sitting on a horse who is letting out a big sigh, maybe a sneeze. It reverberates through his body, and my body rises and expands with that breath, and we can exhale together. Yes, at last, we are sitting here, viewing the landscape, in love with everything again.