The stock market's down
Traffic's really bad
Life's full of stresses
My wallet's real sad
Where is the happy
Where is the joy
How does one find it
While the world does anoy
Yet, my health is quite strong
My wife is the best
I have a roof overhead
My kids are well dressed
My stomach is full
My job is still there
We have lots of pets
I still have my hair
Happy is my choice
I'm told time and again
It's all in my head
with haromony and zen
Choose to be happy
Choose life without stress
Choose life without "No"
Choose answers with "Yes"
Kiss the wife a bit longer
Pet the dog one more time
Tell your kids that you love 'em
Write bad poems with ryhme
Let the bad days come
But dream all the big dreams
Watch the clouds float by
Hear the birds and streams
Where is the happy
Can I keep all the highs
Happy's already with me
I'll just open my eyes
Friday, November 19, 2010
Eating Dirt
My eighteen year old daughter loves everything about horses, horse shows and everything associated with the word ... "horse". She loves the smells of saddles, the sensation of landing the perfect jump, the nuzzle of a muzzle and even the endless waiting (and build of anticipation) at horse shows.
However, my seventeen year old son would rather eat dirt than step a single sneaker into the barn. He'd rather gargle glass than go to a show. Riding a horse would be less welcome than a Zombie Alien Invasion from the putrid planet of "Puke"... or whatever video game scenario applies.
While my daughter is tearing up the show ring and will jump 3 or 4 foot jumps a top her hay fuled steed, my son is shredding rails, slashing through snow and jumping 30 foot jumps aboard his gravity powered snowboard.
He loves the cold wind in his face, the feel of the ever steepening terrain as the evergreens blur by. He even enjoys the thrill (and great story) of the occasional crash.
My daughter, on the other hand, would rather eat dirt.
However, my seventeen year old son would rather eat dirt than step a single sneaker into the barn. He'd rather gargle glass than go to a show. Riding a horse would be less welcome than a Zombie Alien Invasion from the putrid planet of "Puke"... or whatever video game scenario applies.
While my daughter is tearing up the show ring and will jump 3 or 4 foot jumps a top her hay fuled steed, my son is shredding rails, slashing through snow and jumping 30 foot jumps aboard his gravity powered snowboard.
He loves the cold wind in his face, the feel of the ever steepening terrain as the evergreens blur by. He even enjoys the thrill (and great story) of the occasional crash.
My daughter, on the other hand, would rather eat dirt.
Happy Beyond Happy
I'm frequently asked by the curious non-equestrians at work, "How often do you ride?" My typical responses are "Me ... Oh ... not since the Nixon administration" or "They don't let the wretched ride."
The truth be known, I did ride almost daily while courting my wife 23 years ago. She was teaching riding lessons and I was taking riding lessons so I could actually see her when she wasn't exhausted. She even convinced me to go into a little schooling show. True story: I almost ran over the judge and then cut off a 75 year old woman in a flat class causing her to fall from her mount. After my primary rival was taken away in an ambulance, I got second in the class, much better than I expected.
I now rarely get on a horse...maybe every 5 years or so if the stars line up just so. Yes, it usually does take 5 years to recover. Even when I do ride, it on the pony Bobbie. I'm 6 foot 2. If he starts getting fresh, all I have to do is straighten my legs and he just trots out from under me.
Truth also be known that none of this is or was ever about me. The quicker I came to that realization the better. My role is cleaning stalls on the weekends, picking up the feed at the store, doing night checks, trailering horses here and there, fixing stuff, helping with turn out and yes paying some bills. The horses are as much about me as breathing is about smelling the flowers. I'm only a side benefit that comes with the entree.
However, I love (and I do mean love) to watch my wife and daughter ride. The horse and either rider float so effortlessly around the ring with such grace and beauty that it's almost like a spiritual type of experience for me. OK ... before you think spiritual in the sense that I'm channeling my long dead fore fathers ... no ... nothing Casper the Friendly Ghost here.
Watching them ride somehow makes me feel like I'm part of something bigger.
I always have to stop and watch for a moment. I'm always at least tempted to grab a camera. I always get tears in my eyes.
It's not truly about their riding either. Yes, my wife and daughter both are accomplished riders and no I don't get the same feeling watching others ride (that would be weird), no matter how good they are. I do, however, get the same feeling watching my son snowboard effortlessly over powered snow.
The watery eyes, the spirituality, the sappy stories do not come because of the beauty of the ride of horse or snowboard or because I live to peal onions.
It comes because someone I love is doing something something they love. It makes them happy beyond happy, which makes me happy beyond happy.
Ride Happy!
The truth be known, I did ride almost daily while courting my wife 23 years ago. She was teaching riding lessons and I was taking riding lessons so I could actually see her when she wasn't exhausted. She even convinced me to go into a little schooling show. True story: I almost ran over the judge and then cut off a 75 year old woman in a flat class causing her to fall from her mount. After my primary rival was taken away in an ambulance, I got second in the class, much better than I expected.
I now rarely get on a horse...maybe every 5 years or so if the stars line up just so. Yes, it usually does take 5 years to recover. Even when I do ride, it on the pony Bobbie. I'm 6 foot 2. If he starts getting fresh, all I have to do is straighten my legs and he just trots out from under me.
Truth also be known that none of this is or was ever about me. The quicker I came to that realization the better. My role is cleaning stalls on the weekends, picking up the feed at the store, doing night checks, trailering horses here and there, fixing stuff, helping with turn out and yes paying some bills. The horses are as much about me as breathing is about smelling the flowers. I'm only a side benefit that comes with the entree.
However, I love (and I do mean love) to watch my wife and daughter ride. The horse and either rider float so effortlessly around the ring with such grace and beauty that it's almost like a spiritual type of experience for me. OK ... before you think spiritual in the sense that I'm channeling my long dead fore fathers ... no ... nothing Casper the Friendly Ghost here.
Watching them ride somehow makes me feel like I'm part of something bigger.
I always have to stop and watch for a moment. I'm always at least tempted to grab a camera. I always get tears in my eyes.
It's not truly about their riding either. Yes, my wife and daughter both are accomplished riders and no I don't get the same feeling watching others ride (that would be weird), no matter how good they are. I do, however, get the same feeling watching my son snowboard effortlessly over powered snow.
The watery eyes, the spirituality, the sappy stories do not come because of the beauty of the ride of horse or snowboard or because I live to peal onions.
It comes because someone I love is doing something something they love. It makes them happy beyond happy, which makes me happy beyond happy.
Ride Happy!
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