Journey Forth

I rode Honor this week. I try to ride him often, but this time we trotted down country roads and through timber and creek, and it was lovely.

After weeks of drilling him on groundwork, and riding in the corral, we had long ago graduated to riding in the "big" field to the east. But you can only go around a field so many times before new horizons beckon. Was he ready? Was I? I wasn't sure, but the field was shrinking with every ride, and so I donned my helmet and my blaze-orange jacket (in case some avid hunter might think we were edible), and Honor and I ventured forth, along with my twelve-year-old daughter on Journey.

Honor, Journey, and Abigail

It was one of those times that help you remember why you're doing what you're doing. The horses were willing, the weather was decent, and the company? Delightful. It also brought on another spate of musing, this time about how often I practice and prepare, but when it comes to actually doing the thing I'm aiming for, I procrastinate.

I doubt I am the only one.

So why would we limit ourselves like that? My theory is that, more often than not, we're afraid to fail. Therefore, we over-prepare and sometimes just never quite step forward, because we're so attached to safety.

 I know there are individuals for whom the adrenaline rush that accompanies a good scare is worth the trauma. Not me. I love feeling safe. But the question I have to face, not just in horse riding, but also concerning endeavors in my areas of passion and in relationships with people, is whether a life without risk is worth the price. Is a stale existance, defined by the effort to avoid fear, really how I want to live my life?

Further up and further in!

Fear shrinks our world. It causes us to go around and around the same territory. Yes, we may be really good at what we do in that small area. Yet if we are ever going to experience the greater horizons, the long country roads, and the effervescent joy of taking new ground, we're going to have to move out of the realm of preparation and take a step forward into uncharted and longed-for ground.

Concerning Titles

I've been pondering the title I've given this blog: Journey with Honor. The simple weight of that phrase never fails to sitr my heart with desire that I would not merely live--survive, as it were--but live with intent to honor and value those whose lives touch mine in this earthly journey. That said, I am hindered by the fact that I often do not know how to actually walk it out. I suspect it is much more simple than I make it and more profound than I know.

But the title is about more than just living intentionally. You see, we have a horse named Journey.

JOURNEY GIRL

Journey is a Morgan/Cob cross, and what can I say? She is the ideal horse is many ways. She's safe, wonderful to ride (especially in the woods), and has a classic beauty I love. Calm, alert, willing, and with her Morgan breeding, she loves to trot--once you have convinced her that you really and truly want her to move.

The rest of the time, she seems perfectly content to eat and doze her life away.

HONOR

                                                      And then we have Honor.

He's a gorgeous red dun Quarterhorse/Arab cross (a "Quarab"). If looks the horse doth make, then I probably wouldn't be writing about him in this blog. Suffice it to say, true to his Arab lineage, he is smart, quick on his feet, and ready to be the one in charge if he's not convinced someone else is.

To tell the truth, I wasn't at all sure I was up to Honor. Maybe I'd just stick with Journey.

She is safe. Known. I can arrive at my destination unscathed, unchallenged, and not having to deal with unpleasant episodes where I must insist on respect. This prospect had--and still has--appeal. In fact, I had pretty much decided to sell Honor--the onery thing--but even as I made up flyers and posted ads, I couldn't help but notice the parable playing out right in my own field.

Living? We all do that. To live in such a way as to show honor to others and ourselves--that is a whole different animal, as they say. How do I want to finish this race, this earthly journey of mine? Safe, or satisfied? Do I want to merely journey, content to avoid pain, or do I want to focus on honoring others, respecting their worth, intentionally enjoying who they are rather than trying to re-make them into someone more like me? Honor can be scary. It's not always given in return, for one thing, and there's the chance of failure. And yet--as others much wiser than I have said, better to try and to fail, than never to try at all.

LEARNING TO BE PATIENT WHILE TIED

This is what I thought about today as I worked with Honor. I can always sell him. But if I will work with him, invest some time and build a relationship with him, this horse can go places Journey will never take me. That, in a nutshell, is what my journey with Honor is all about. I expect a few scares, bumps, and hot, dusty, miserable days along the way. But the glimmers of far greater glory and far greater pleasure are calling me from the safety of the familiar and into the realm of promise.






However, I definitely plan on wearing my riding helmet!