Masterpeace of Nature

In this episode I describe the wonders of horseback riding. My daughter overcomes her challenges and conquers her fear. It is a celebration of the teamwork involved in milestones in life. Praise for a gifted, empathetic teacher and awe of those magnificent creatures and the highs of being a mother. 

Transcript

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One, two, three, four. Welcome to the Nature's Wonder Podcast, where we thrive when we go outside. Today's podcast is a little bit different. I'm going to share an experience that I had in January this year. And it's all about my love of horses, my love of the outdoors, and my love for my daughter. So here it is. Masterpiece of nature. She was riding. My feet had frozen in my wellies. As I've been standing at the side of the arena, it was a bitter January morning. In my rush to leave the house, I'd forgotten to put on an extra pair of socks. My fingers gripped my phone in preparation to record this pivotal moment. Part of me just wanted to be present, to savour the monumental events unfolding before me. The dichotomy that ensued screamed out, Capture this, knowing I would want to share it immediately with my sister. My emotions were running high, and I could feel tears begin to brick my eyes and steam up my sunglasses as I battled to contain them. What I witnessed that morning, what came about in the arena, was unexpected, despite years of wanting it and feeling in my core that it was a possibility. It was a vicarious experience. The moment belonged to my daughter, who, at 10 years old, probably didn't realize the impact or significance of that hour. Two years ago, she'd started riding lessons, doing really well at improving, albeit slowly. She never looked completely comfortable or confident on the tiny white pony that trotted past me. As I stood week after week at the side of the arena, expectantly anticipating the moment of connection when rider and horse would be in sync, a masterpiece of tamed wildness and freedom. In all weathers, I stood, shifting from one frozen foot to the other, with the wind whipping across the open fields. There was no shelter for the supportive encouraging mother. Even the summer did not make my spectatorship any easier, as there was nowhere to stand for shade from the sun and the dust. Then she fell off. As a novice rider myself, I wasn't quite sure how to react. Mild panic set in. Was she hurt? Should I leap over the fence and check on her? Do I encourage her to get back on? She did get back on, but it changed everything. All progress had halted quite literally. There was no enthusiasm for the lesson, only relief when it was cancelled. Development plateaued and other activities took over. I think she stopped writing for about a year and a half. Then a voice from within whispered to her to continue. This time I didn't want to coerce her at all. This time it had to come from her. We found a new teacher, an inspiration. She understood and very slowly and methodically built up my daughter's confidence. From being more comfortable around the horse to being on him. After a couple of months came the morning I described at the outset. I saw the fear and frustration on her face as she battled the horse's will to show him that he was safe with her and thereby she was safe with him. And then it came that magical moment I had given up on ever seeing. She conquered her fear and doubt. She was riding him. Not being led by someone else or challenged by the pony in confusion. She was riding. It was the amalgamation of a wonderful, empathetic teacher, a beautifully natured pony, and my daughter. As they trotted around the arena, I let the tears flow freely. These were relieved, proud tears. This would serve as a life lesson that you can be afraid and frustrated and find something really, really hard, but you can overcome those feelings and ride victorious.