2 days ago
December 5, 2012
Solo's Infamy Makes Leap Across The Pond!
December 1, 2012
The Artful Equine
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| By Tony O'Connor (Ireland) |
Note to my mother: rule still stands, my walls are full, don't get any ideas!!!!
What the heck? This is not about horses! You protest.
But it is. Because I'm going to give in to my aesthetic lust and give you a self-indulgent artgasm (these sentences are getting dodgier and dodgier...) of incredible equine works that are outside of the well-known pieces such as
- Lin Yuan's Eight Horses paintings
- Jacques Louis David's masterwork of Napoleon at the St Bernard Pass
- Da Vinci's anatomical studies of horses in many poses
- Franz Marc's Red Horses (pssst, Amber, this is the one I said your painting reminded me of).
Horse porn for your walls (oh, I'm going to get so many hits from that sentence):
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| Neptune's Horses by Walter Crane (1892, England) |
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| Deux études partielles d'une tête de cheval bridée, sculptural study by Edme Bouchardon (1698-1762, France) |
I bet you didn't know Degas (1834-1917, France) has a huge body of equestrian work -- sculpture & paintings of racehorses. My favourites are his studies:
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| Three Jockeys |
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| A horse study |
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| Equestrian Portrait of the Duke of Lerma |
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| Saddled Horse (c. 1615-1618) |
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| A Woman And A Horse, Let Someone Else Master Them (how can you pass that up?) |
Contemporary Artists
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| Stallion I by Ricardo Vargas |
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| Weathered Equine I by Norman Wyatt Jr (VA) |
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| Baroque Horse Series III: II by Heather Theurer (western US) |
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| Hanging in the Balance by Heather Theurer (western US) |
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| Horses At Leisure by Yunlan He (Beijing) - K, I confess I bought a print of this, it wooed me. |
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| Desert Kings by Karen Dupre (CA) |
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| 3 Stewarts by Joseph Zbukvic (Australia) - a newly discovered favourite |
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| Morning Work by Joseph Zbukvic (Australia) |
If I had a bottomless pit of money, I would build an entire wing of my house to be my own personal art museum (perhaps it would extend off of my fantasy library), one wall of which would be a mural painted by Sarah Lynn Richards (I requested one from her years ago at Rolex and she said, "Sure!" but I don't think she works for free) & oh, the treasures it would hold...
November 25, 2012
Bring It
Maybe it's just because it's far too late at night. Maybe it's because I've been trapped in this chair for too long. Maybe it's because bad luck keeps on rolling in.
I thought I might collapse in defeat. Non-blog related issues sent my brain packing weeks ago. I hope it is enjoying wherever it is, perhaps on a nice beach in Ecuador, watching the sun rise over the Andes.
But there's a surprise inside. As I sit here, even with my knee in constant, throbbing pain; even after leaning on my crutches, watching a friend ride Encore today and seeing that he is so unschooled, so lacking in mileage, that he desperately needs to get back in a program; even feeling like poor Sisyphus while Zeus laughs on...
I find myself narrowing my eyes in defiance.
Staring at the mountain of adversity in front of me, there is a wellspring of determination, probably fueled by sheer stubbornnes, but nonetheless picking up momentum as the flow breaks through tiny, nearly invisible cracks.
Even if you put your hand over a flashlight, beams find their way out through the spaces between your fingers and around the edges of your hand. Even if you put an entire moon over the mass of the sun, a bright corona belies the shadow and the rolling fire at the core flings its rays to the heavens in spite.
Every torturous minute of PT, every rip of pain from a step, and every mind-numbing "walk horse up the hill, walk horse down the hill" will be fueled by this fire. Because the flames are fanned by a wind I think you know. It was the wind that whipped my face as Encore stretched out in a gallop in the bright afternoon of our last ride before surgery, ripping the laugh of glee out of my mouth as I felt the enormous power of this Thoroughbred, born and bred and begging to run, leap away and carry me into an unearthly place.
I think you've been there; you don't always enter at a gallop, but you still feel that air in your heart. It's that which transforms my despair into resolve that we will not be beaten and we will not go quietly.
If you could see the entire path of your journey from the start, you might never take the first step, because the view would surely be terrifying and you might question the worth of your goal. But if your goal IS the journey, there is really nothing that can stop you.
Except yourself.
I thought I might collapse in defeat. Non-blog related issues sent my brain packing weeks ago. I hope it is enjoying wherever it is, perhaps on a nice beach in Ecuador, watching the sun rise over the Andes.
I find myself narrowing my eyes in defiance.
Staring at the mountain of adversity in front of me, there is a wellspring of determination, probably fueled by sheer stubbornnes, but nonetheless picking up momentum as the flow breaks through tiny, nearly invisible cracks.
Even if you put your hand over a flashlight, beams find their way out through the spaces between your fingers and around the edges of your hand. Even if you put an entire moon over the mass of the sun, a bright corona belies the shadow and the rolling fire at the core flings its rays to the heavens in spite.
I think you've been there; you don't always enter at a gallop, but you still feel that air in your heart. It's that which transforms my despair into resolve that we will not be beaten and we will not go quietly.
If you could see the entire path of your journey from the start, you might never take the first step, because the view would surely be terrifying and you might question the worth of your goal. But if your goal IS the journey, there is really nothing that can stop you.
Except yourself.
November 21, 2012
The Wheat From The Chaff: Separate It Does
This story is a little overdue, but no less worth telling. Because it is a perfect illustration of the line of horsemanship those of us one side of it know perfectly and those on the other side are convinced does not exist.
Last weekend, Amber came out to practice her bending and I wanted to get her in a basic two point and cantering before I was laid up (ah, back when The Plan was still alive). As we warmed up, she was doing worlds better with her bending (as in, Solo was bending!) in serpentines and circles (ok, I still tied her hand together) and making serious progress relaxing her upper body and guiding Solo with her eye. We worked on trying to get a more forward trot and I even saw a couple steps approaching a trot that was awake -- not bad for three rides!
So, let's do a couple of canter circles and we'll be done, k?
No problem. And she'd been great cantering on the longe, very well balanced and smooth.
I stressed that it was important to sit up, keep your leg wrapped around him, and to keep your spurs off of him when he was cantering and just keep a light seat, he might get excited.
She picked up her canter at A with a fairly prompt transition and made a nice corner tracking left. Going down that long side is a bit of a down slope, so I saw Solo fall on his forehand a bit and cheat his way through by just going a little faster. Before I knew it, he made a motorcycle turn across the arena and I yelled, "Half halt!"
He was pointed almost straight at the arena rope now and I saw the conflict on his face. Never jump out of the dressage arena! But she's pointing me at a thing and digging in her spurs and saying go! NEVER jump out of the dressage arena! But she's telling me to go faster! NEVER JUMP OUT OF THE DRESSAGE ARENA! OMG!!!
Fortunately for the long run, Solo made the correct decision and politely said, no ma'am, you have requested the wrong thing, and slid to a stop with his ankles against the rope. Amber, less fortunately, had lost her leg behind her and tipped forward and did the MOST superlative Superman impression out to the side that I think I have ever seen. We're talking full-body, stretched out, completely level airtime here.
She hit the ground on her butt, rolling (yesss, someone who knows how to roll!) and Solo sidled two steps over to me with worried eyes, saying I'm sorry, mom, but she was wrong. I yelled to Amber not to move, patted Solo and told him it was ok, he did the best he could.
I knew Amber had a pre-existing back sprain, so I didn't want her to get up (I never let people get up anyway), to just take a minute and breathe. She popped up a little soon, but insisted she was ok and climbed back on the horse to walk it out. I had her walk around, stretch everything out, breathe and chat, and just relax.
This, this is where the line starts. After calmly assessing she was unhurt aside from some road rash and bruising, she climbed right back up and said, "Let's do this because I don't want it to be a thing."
Right on.
I re-emphasized the spurs; "Now we know why we don't dig them in, yes? Do you feel like you know where they are right now and that you can control them?" Because Solo is nearly impossible to ride without a spur and he knows it. She thought she was good, so I said, ok, let's try this again.
We did the right lead, his easier one. It was perfectly uneventful and had some nice strides on the short end. When he got unbalanced, I had her take a tug and then release to rebalance in a crude sort of half halt, but she was able to keep Solo from slithering down the hill. Yeah! So we changed direction and hit the left lead again, although I had her stay on a 20 m circle at one end this time.
Solo picked up his canter and after the first few strides, I saw Amber get a bit wobbly from nerves. Solo shifted a bit and tried to keep his balance under hers as they turned towards me. I love my horse. But as they turned in the arena corner, she tipped forwards and lost it again and rolled over his shoulder, albeit much less dramatically this time.
I will say now that I HATE when people fall off when I am teaching. I know it is part of the process, but standing in the middle of the ring, I am responsible for everything that happens there. It's why I've been keeping our work mostly in the small grass dressage arena from which I've removed all the rocks and know every inch of the footing. Much nicer than the bigger arena down below where you land on rocks and a very hard base....
But Amber hopped up immediately this time (I'm going to have to work on that!) and came back over and climbed up again.
That's the line, right there. Many people walk away after the first fall. Most of the rest are gone after the second. Especially within 15 minutes of the first. Given of course, that no injuries in need of medical care occur. One must, of course, take of those first!
Well, I'll be. She's the real deal. She's someone who knows that Rome wasn't built in a day and it is definitely not a painless process. Colour me impressed.
The second fall really gets your adrenaline going though, so I made sure she spent lots of time wandering around, relaxed, doing breathing exercises, talking about other things. Oh yeah, and I took the spurs off. I felt confident that Solo was awake at this point.
I said, "I'd really like you to canter a left lead circle one time before you leave, so that this is resolved. However, if you are not feeling comfortable, that is absolutely fine and we can pick it up next time and I have no problem with that."
Her reply, "No way, I don't want this to be a thing and I want to DO it."
RIGHT ON.
So she picked up her trot, settled her shoulders back, asked for the canter and I yelled "Relax your leg and sit up!"
And she did it. Then we dropped back to trot, did a bit of stretching for Solo's back, stuck a fork in it, and called it done.
I hope that Amber went home feeling very accomplished (well, after she got the dirt out of her pants), because it was indeed a big thing. It takes courage, dedication, and a heck of a lot of try if you really want to ride and she displayed every one in spades. I would have been ok if she had just wanted to fall off once, but I guess she had something to prove...
Last weekend, Amber came out to practice her bending and I wanted to get her in a basic two point and cantering before I was laid up (ah, back when The Plan was still alive). As we warmed up, she was doing worlds better with her bending (as in, Solo was bending!) in serpentines and circles (ok, I still tied her hand together) and making serious progress relaxing her upper body and guiding Solo with her eye. We worked on trying to get a more forward trot and I even saw a couple steps approaching a trot that was awake -- not bad for three rides!
So, let's do a couple of canter circles and we'll be done, k?
No problem. And she'd been great cantering on the longe, very well balanced and smooth.
I stressed that it was important to sit up, keep your leg wrapped around him, and to keep your spurs off of him when he was cantering and just keep a light seat, he might get excited.
She picked up her canter at A with a fairly prompt transition and made a nice corner tracking left. Going down that long side is a bit of a down slope, so I saw Solo fall on his forehand a bit and cheat his way through by just going a little faster. Before I knew it, he made a motorcycle turn across the arena and I yelled, "Half halt!"
He was pointed almost straight at the arena rope now and I saw the conflict on his face. Never jump out of the dressage arena! But she's pointing me at a thing and digging in her spurs and saying go! NEVER jump out of the dressage arena! But she's telling me to go faster! NEVER JUMP OUT OF THE DRESSAGE ARENA! OMG!!!
Fortunately for the long run, Solo made the correct decision and politely said, no ma'am, you have requested the wrong thing, and slid to a stop with his ankles against the rope. Amber, less fortunately, had lost her leg behind her and tipped forward and did the MOST superlative Superman impression out to the side that I think I have ever seen. We're talking full-body, stretched out, completely level airtime here.
 |
| R U OKZ? |
I knew Amber had a pre-existing back sprain, so I didn't want her to get up (I never let people get up anyway), to just take a minute and breathe. She popped up a little soon, but insisted she was ok and climbed back on the horse to walk it out. I had her walk around, stretch everything out, breathe and chat, and just relax.
This, this is where the line starts. After calmly assessing she was unhurt aside from some road rash and bruising, she climbed right back up and said, "Let's do this because I don't want it to be a thing."
Right on.
I re-emphasized the spurs; "Now we know why we don't dig them in, yes? Do you feel like you know where they are right now and that you can control them?" Because Solo is nearly impossible to ride without a spur and he knows it. She thought she was good, so I said, ok, let's try this again.
 |
| I always cantered Solo perfectly. Ha! |
Solo picked up his canter and after the first few strides, I saw Amber get a bit wobbly from nerves. Solo shifted a bit and tried to keep his balance under hers as they turned towards me. I love my horse. But as they turned in the arena corner, she tipped forwards and lost it again and rolled over his shoulder, albeit much less dramatically this time.
I will say now that I HATE when people fall off when I am teaching. I know it is part of the process, but standing in the middle of the ring, I am responsible for everything that happens there. It's why I've been keeping our work mostly in the small grass dressage arena from which I've removed all the rocks and know every inch of the footing. Much nicer than the bigger arena down below where you land on rocks and a very hard base....
But Amber hopped up immediately this time (I'm going to have to work on that!) and came back over and climbed up again.
That's the line, right there. Many people walk away after the first fall. Most of the rest are gone after the second. Especially within 15 minutes of the first. Given of course, that no injuries in need of medical care occur. One must, of course, take of those first!
Well, I'll be. She's the real deal. She's someone who knows that Rome wasn't built in a day and it is definitely not a painless process. Colour me impressed.
The second fall really gets your adrenaline going though, so I made sure she spent lots of time wandering around, relaxed, doing breathing exercises, talking about other things. Oh yeah, and I took the spurs off. I felt confident that Solo was awake at this point.
I said, "I'd really like you to canter a left lead circle one time before you leave, so that this is resolved. However, if you are not feeling comfortable, that is absolutely fine and we can pick it up next time and I have no problem with that."
Her reply, "No way, I don't want this to be a thing and I want to DO it."
RIGHT ON.
So she picked up her trot, settled her shoulders back, asked for the canter and I yelled "Relax your leg and sit up!"
I hope that Amber went home feeling very accomplished (well, after she got the dirt out of her pants), because it was indeed a big thing. It takes courage, dedication, and a heck of a lot of try if you really want to ride and she displayed every one in spades. I would have been ok if she had just wanted to fall off once, but I guess she had something to prove...
November 20, 2012
WTF Just Happened? AKA The Surgeon's Update
So...I made this giant plan, right? I pretty much gave up a year of my life to fix this stupid knee thing. I had everything in place, all the characters lined up, & this massive, intricate web of steps ready to push into motion.
Anticlimax alert.
Then I woke up from anesthesia to be informed that all the tendons in my knee were, in fact, fine. Big, chopping surgery with drills & such was not performed. Arthroscopic exploration (which surgeon did say nothing was 100% till that) revealed that all of the issues stemmed from an intra-articular cartilage tear, just under the meniscus. Which.....
Wait for it.
There is currently no available solution for.
I sat in my bed in puzzlement, looking from lifeshighway (BFF) to nurses to leg & back to lifeshighway.
What?
What happened instead was that the surgeon debrided (read: power sanded & sucked out) all the loose cartilage edges & built up inflammatory tissue (a lot!), wrapped it up & sent me home, now neatly moved into the "oop, can't fix, no longer interesting surgical case" category.
It's not a bad thing that I now have a two-three month recovery instead of an eight month one. But now I'm sitting here with this heap of plan in my lap going, Heh. Now what?
After the nerve block wore off, I spent Saturday in a whole new world of pain I didn't even know existed (thank cod I requested the stronger drugs), was dragged to salvation by two amazing friends, had insane explosion of plan remnants yesterday in "you can't make this shit up" realm, & now on Tuesday am just resting till I go back to work & PT next Monday.
Long term prognosis: I am now a horse. We will try maintenance HA (hyaluronic acid; at least I'm a nice enough horse that I get the expensive stuff) injections & I will rebuild muscle around the joint. I will then just manage flare-ups until someone invents a solution.
Lifeshighway & I remain scratching our heads from the abrupt departure from expected occurrences. I've been putting this thing together since late summer, building up to it, building up to it, ready to get my solution, then WHAM-O! Just kidding, you'll be fine by February, except not really. Now you're just another person with a bum knee.
Have fun with that!
Anticlimax alert.
Then I woke up from anesthesia to be informed that all the tendons in my knee were, in fact, fine. Big, chopping surgery with drills & such was not performed. Arthroscopic exploration (which surgeon did say nothing was 100% till that) revealed that all of the issues stemmed from an intra-articular cartilage tear, just under the meniscus. Which.....
Wait for it.
There is currently no available solution for.
I sat in my bed in puzzlement, looking from lifeshighway (BFF) to nurses to leg & back to lifeshighway.
What?
What happened instead was that the surgeon debrided (read: power sanded & sucked out) all the loose cartilage edges & built up inflammatory tissue (a lot!), wrapped it up & sent me home, now neatly moved into the "oop, can't fix, no longer interesting surgical case" category.
It's not a bad thing that I now have a two-three month recovery instead of an eight month one. But now I'm sitting here with this heap of plan in my lap going, Heh. Now what?
After the nerve block wore off, I spent Saturday in a whole new world of pain I didn't even know existed (thank cod I requested the stronger drugs), was dragged to salvation by two amazing friends, had insane explosion of plan remnants yesterday in "you can't make this shit up" realm, & now on Tuesday am just resting till I go back to work & PT next Monday.
Long term prognosis: I am now a horse. We will try maintenance HA (hyaluronic acid; at least I'm a nice enough horse that I get the expensive stuff) injections & I will rebuild muscle around the joint. I will then just manage flare-ups until someone invents a solution.
Lifeshighway & I remain scratching our heads from the abrupt departure from expected occurrences. I've been putting this thing together since late summer, building up to it, building up to it, ready to get my solution, then WHAM-O! Just kidding, you'll be fine by February, except not really. Now you're just another person with a bum knee.
Have fun with that!
