Tom Dorrance Report  

by Gail Ivey

This isn't so much a report of the Tom Dorrance Benefit clinic as much as

it is a personal accounting of my experience last weekend in Fort Worth, TX. I'll try to include some of the facts about the event, but this is more about what I hope is sharing something of what Tom Dorrance is all about and how it applied to my experience.

I want to go back to December, 2000. I'd already bought myself admission to the event when a generous and kind lady (with a beautiful horse, I might add) suggested to the powers that be that I be invited to participate. I was still quite surprised to actually receive an invitation. Although I've got a few "fan clubs" in certain pockets of the world, I consider myself just a poor ol' backyard horse trainer and riding instructor, that types a little and goes to somebody else's clinic once in a while. I think of myself as a student more than a teacher, so I was truly honored to be invited to ride with a group of my teachers, under one person who has taught most of us, and for one person who has so much to teach all of us.

I mailed my check and went shopping for new boots. Fast forward to Friday, February 23, 2001. My friends and i dropped by the Will Rogers center to see if my horse had arrived. My good friend, Harry Whitney, brought a horse for me to ride I'd asked him to bring Sandy for a personal reason. Sandy was a little horse that had belonged to Harry's friend, Tom Johnson, who had also been a friend of Tom Dorrance, and had busily compiled the footage for the "Greetings" video. TJ passed away from cancer and left the little horse to Harry. Considering how much TJ deserved to be in Fort Worth. I thought the best way to represent him was to ride a horse that carried his brand, and in that way TJ could share in honoring Tom Dorrance.

We located Sandy and Turbo, the horse Harry belongs to, and almost immediately located Ross Jacobs, who had come all the way from Australia to spend a month with Harry, then got demoted to my "groom" for benefit clinic. Seriously, Ross was a big help to me that weekend. There was a whole lot of "hurry up and wait" that took place, and Ross was right there to fill in the gaps. Thanks very much, my friend.

My friends and I then left to pick up another friend at the airport, another hurry up and wait affair, as flights were delayed and cancelled left and right that day, and any hope I'd had for a "get acquainted" ride on Sandy soon was replaced by hope that I might get dinner at a reasonable hour. I've come to realize that a person has to have hope. A lot of times, hope is all there is.

We returned to Fort Worth and Will Rogers to see how things were going.

The arena was set up with four round pens and a set of bleachers along one end. It looked pretty small in there. Ran into Mark Rashid. Jodi Denning and Linda Bertani and got to chat a few minutes. Johhny dark passed by and joined us for a few minutes, too. Congratulations go to Johnny and Patti dark who became parents that week.

Now, I might mention right here that I won't get to name all the people I met or got reacquainted with over the weekend. The list is pretty long, and I'd for sure leave someone out But you know who you are, and I want to say that part of the fun of the whole weekend for me was in meeting you, and I'm sincere when I say that I wish I'd had more time to spend with each of you.

So, Saturday morning finally arrived, and here I might mention something that maybe wasn't the best deal for some of the folks who'd come a long way to participate at this clinic. The planning and organization could have used a little more thought, perhaps. It didn't affect me as much as others, but some folks got jerked around a little, and while everything worked out in the end, I did hear some comments suggesting that "if it weren't for Tom, I wouldn't have come, if I'd known this..." Seems there was a bit of confusion as to when a where a person, horse or trailer might go and no one around to direct. For myself, I discovered on Saturday morning that all the participants were checked in on Friday. Except me. And one other So, while I searched out the appropriate party for that, my friends went and found their seats.

The draw for the colt starting took some time. it seems. I couldn't always hear what was being said by Ray and Carolyn, partly because they'd overlap at times, and partly because I never really did find a seat for myself for a couple of hours. One thing that seemed certain to me was that I would have wanted to draw one of Ray's colts, had I been in that class. Those colts already seemed to look to the human for support, and only seemed to fall apart when the human let them down. In contrast, the 6666 colts were pretty strong on thinking they'd been betrayed somehow, and the fellas who drew them had quite a time convincing some of them that it would be all right.

I'll say for the record that I saw some fellas really give the horse the best deal possible, and I saw some others who struggled with that. I saw some fellas work so smoothly and with so much fitting presentation, that they actually went unnoticed by so many of the crowd watching them. I saw some fellas trying to get kicked, run over and bucked off, and was both disappointed and not disappointed at the same time I worried over one fella who relied entirely on his agility and speed to get around one colt, while I worried over another colt that I knew would have trouble with his rider, and possibly other riders in the future Some of the folks in the class were people I'd known and ridden with, and many were some I'd never seen before. With those that I knew, I saw exactly what I'd expected to see, and with those that I didn't. I tried to remember who rode which colt and how things worked out for them. I heard a comment at one point that those fellas wouldn't do things this way at home, and that my be very true for some of them. For a few I've seen many times, I feel certain that the way they got their job done that day was no different than how they would have done it at home.

Through all of this, I tried to keep in mind that all of these people were here by invitation. All of them had found a place for Tom Dorrance in their lives, and all of them had hopes to present themselves in a way that would make Tom happy. I think some of them missed, and some of them were right on target. Most of them were on the way. Ray's comments and help for each one of them was truthful and sincere, although, as most of us know by now, not always the best presentation for the person. That's not meant to be a criticism of Ray. He is how he is. and I don't try to interpret him to gain his meaning. Rather, I'll try to look beyond his presentation to gain the reflection of the man and his horse. I'll go beyond the surface, because it's important to me. If I stopped at the surface, I might find much to criticize. Since I want more than that, I've got no time to criticize. It gets in my way. I can't really speak for Tom, but I think that's sonething he'd want us all to realize - if you seek to criticize, you'll find what you want, but it will get in your way and take up your time, If there's one thing we should be very aware of, it's that time is short, and precious.

As things went on that morning, some of the colts got ridden and put away before others had been saddled. A couple of colts hadn't been drawn, and Joe Wolter got double duty. Some of the riders had saddled and unsaddled a few more times, and spent time rubbing the colts and relaxing while watching the rest of the class. In one round pen, Oscar Thompson got one on one with Ray, as they worked through getting on and going through the basic maneuvers of bending and getting the hindquarters to step over, then releasing to let the front end come through. Ray never seemed to be happy with Oscar's timing. Oscar allows a lot of time for thinking things through, both for himself and the horse. It's his style, and I've never seen it fail, but he's one who would probably do things differently at home.

Later, Oscar commented about his experience. He was delighted in Ray's help, and was inspired to open his eyes a bit wider on the road ahead of him. Those are my words, not his, but I believe Oscar would say they fit.

As the morning's colt class finished up, I went in search of my ride. Again, there was some hurry up and wait to do, and my equipment wasn't as together as it should have been, but eventually, Sandy was saddled and I spent some time with him on the end of my halter rope to see how things went.

I'd never ridden Sandy before. I'd seen him ridden by others, so I knew he could be quick and catty, and I also knew that he could be quiet and lazy. What I did not know was that it was out of character for him to be lost and upset, which is definitely the Sandy I had to ride in Fort Worth. I let Harry direct me on the most fitting approach, since he knows the horse well, and followed his advice. Sandy's "little bird" was desperately searching for Turbo and a way back to Arizona.  The warm up arena we rode in was narrow and long; long enough for a lost horse to get up a good head of steam. If you've ever imagined yourself being the ball in an oldpinball arcade game, you'd have a good idea of how that ride went for me

Several times Sandy got behind my legs so fast I never felt the preparation. I knew he could, but it was a real experience to feel that. I rode for about an hour, trying to get my timing a little better, and being late a lot of the time. I took out my frustration on poor Harry, by good naturedly chiding him about the horse, every time we flew by him and Turbo.

I even pointed a finger at Ross once or twice and blamed him for "ruining" my horse. Mind you, this was all in fun and never meant seriously. Harry glared at me once or twice - "Don't weaken!"

Now, what some folks may know if they've checked my web site is that I've been on vacation for a while. What almost no one knows is why I went on vacation. I'll let you all in on the reason, just so that you might get a feel for being in my boots for a moment Over the past couple of years I've worked pretty hard at home, and overseas a few times. I'd been dealing with a number of resistant, frightened, spoiled and otherwise unyielding horses that had lost the softness they were born with. None of these horses knows anything at all about the physics of force, inertia and momentum, yet they all took their turn applying them to me. Minor injuries to fingers, elbows and shoulders got

stressed. Physical stresses start piling up and affecting other systems than musculoskeletal. By the time I began my vacation last November. I was too sick and weak to lift a saddle most days. I knew that I was going to be in trouble, and probably headed for some serious medical problems if I didn't stop what I was doing and get myself healed up I decided that time off was necessary, and that I needed to find another way to get shaped up - a way where I could control the amount of stress put on my body. So, I quit riding and joined a gym. During the last month or so, I've managed to increase my strength and wind a bit, and I hoped it was enough to see me through my ride in Texas.

That ride was my first ride in three months, and wasn't exactly the time and place I would have chosen to ride an unfamiliar, and very worried horse.  After an hour. I needed a break Harry and I traded horses for a few minutes while a friend went and got me a much needed bottle of water. I watched Harry ride Sandy. Sandy's focus stayed with Harry much better than with me. Whether it was because of Harry's familiarity with Sandy, orSandy's familiarity with Harry, or both. I could not tell, because I could not see Harry do much of anything to keep the horse close to him.

Then it was time to go into the W.R. Watt arena and begin our horsemanship class. Harry and I traded back again, I pushed my hat down on my head a little firmer, and we rode down to the arena. Once there, the arena gate was closed and we all waited around for it to open and let us in. My timing with Sandy was getting better, and I felt him staying closer to me, as I stayed as close as I could to him. He continued his plaintive calling to Turbo, and any horse who might answer, throughout the class.

When we rode into the arena, I could almost feel Sandy's eyes get bigger. In all his experience, I don't think he'd ever been inside a building with such a large crowd before, or if he had, perhaps he was reliving it with less than wonderful memories. For a while, both of us were caught up in the feel of wonderment and amaze, but for Sandy, there was also self-preservation. Harry reminded me to keep Sandy focused, and I came back down into the arena and back to my job.

When Ray arrived, the scene became familiar. And that was when the real ride began. Despite the number of times I've ridden with Ray. and the number of times I've watched Ray's clinics from the fence, it's never been the "same old thing" for me. I've ridden different horses, and watched different situations. There's a comfort in hearing the same orders barked out over and over again, yet the feel and timing has always been different For me, that allows a lot of learning by feel. When you don't have to concentrate on the words, you can concentrate on the feel. Ray has a way of letting you learn it. almost in spite of yourself. I have always learned it better out there on the back of the horse than I have from the fencepost.

So, I began learning more for the next hour and a half. I thought I'd been staying close to Sandy, but I learned how much closer I could be to him There were moments when I'd leave him be when he stayed close to me, and I learned just how little time it could take for him to get very far away again. I learned just how soft Sandy could be, and how little it took to direct him. At times, it took a lot to get his attention, but when he stayed close to me, I needed only to use my seat to direct him. Indeed, it seemed the only purpose in having reins was to help in getting his attention, since they didn't seem to be very necessary once I had it.

Oh, my. Those reins. I'd brought my nice cotton mecate, the one I only used for clinics. I'd shortened them up a bit. yet they were still too long. Part of my attention had to go into keeping those reins out fromunder my feet and my gear. "Short Arm Syndrome" was also a factor.

As you might expect, I wasn't too aware of who was doing what among the other riders in the arena. I kept my eyes up and stayed alert to my surroundings, but I couldn't have told you too much about who was riding what and how they looked. I was a little busy. I do remember coming around a corner at a pretty fast trot, and hearing Ray command "See how slow they'll trot!"

Directly ahead of me was Mr. Parelli on his big black horse doing the piaffe. Laughter and applause from the crowd turned Sandy's "slow" into "where's the exit?!!" Again, I was caught in a moment, and Sandy showed me he needed me with him. At one point, the class was loping, and Sandy was staying with me at a trot. I wondered if he would stay with me at the lope. During the warm up ride, every transition to the lope got a little faster and a little farther. I decided to keep him with me at the trot. I glanced over at Harry, since he was concerned about Turbo holding together during the lope, but, as usual, it looked like a decent picture to me

Then the class was over. I stepped off and found a place along the wall where I could just stand and be a post for a while, and listen to Ray's comments. Then Carolyn began to call out the names of some of us in the class and read a sentence or two off the bios we'd sent. Each person received enthusiastic applause, and my job with Sandy became helping him find a place for his feet to be with that applause. At first, he found the end of the lead rope a few times, and I had to get a little bigger in my direction and support. After a bit, he merely hurried along without losing too much feel for me. I began to close down his feet some, and he began to stay in one place more. When my name got called, a ripple of applause came up through the crowd, and I asked the audience for more. I was hoping I'd get enough to put a little more life into Sandy, and give me just a little bit more to direct, so that perhaps he could find a place to stay once we got back to our place along the wall. It worked crowd, thank you. By the time the last two or three folks names were called, Sandy could stand in one place for a few moments and deal with it all. I led Sandy out of the arena, and unsaddled him. Harry took him back to his trailer, and my "grooms" cleaned him up and put him away for me, while I caught my ride back to the motel to rest and clean myself up for the banquet.

The banquet was an interesting affair. When I had originally purchased my event tickets, I deliberately did not buy tickets for the banquet, because I'm a vegetarian and, well. it IS Texas after all. But, as a participant, I was to host a table. I drew my number and when Carolyn called it out, I looked over to where I thought the table was and saw a lady jumping up and down and waving her arms I made my way over to the table and introductions were made The enthusiastic reception was from our very own Jaki Cast.

When the dinner bell rang lines began to form I was still in some conversation at my table and not in any hurry to face a wall of meat, but it looked as though no one else was going to get their dinner until I did. So I made my way to the end of the line. After a slow march from one end of the room to the other I was greeted by cole slaw and rolls, and several in-carn-ations of beef. I spooned up my cole slaw and returned to my table.

About the time that cole slaw disappeared, Ray Hunt appeared at our table with a short speech to thank us all for attending for Tom's sake.  Soon. he was up on stage and sharing his thoughts with the entire room. When he began to recite "The Man in the Glass," I went. "oh, no, that poem chokes me up!" But he didn't finish it, and I was spared. But later, when the tape was played of Tom reciting "Down Memory's Lane With You," I lost it anyway.

The best moment for me was when Carolyn announced that the photo shoot for the poster would not take place at 6:00 am Sunday morning, as had been the plan. I don't do mornings very well. They rescheduled for lunchtime.

The auction was fun to watch. Curt Pate can really spit out those bids. My friend, Harry, got himself a bridle, and a fella at my table bought a Dale Harwood saddle (remember what I told you. Van') I recall thinking at some of the reluctant bidding that so many of the crowd that night had probably spent all the money in their cookie jars just to attend, so thefact that some things were probably sold below their value really shouldn't have been a surprise. But some things showed where their value lies. and money was no object to a few in that crowd. For the rest of us. it was all entertainment.

Greg Eliel had a good thought, and my dear friend of many years, Barb. who was sitting at his table, acted on it. The word went around and before long she had collected many of the table markers with signed notes from thefolks at those tables to Tom. She gave them to Greg, who offered to send them to Tom himself. I thought that was an especially nice gesture, and just one more way for us all to let Tom know how much he means to us. Finally, the evening came to an end and the visiting time was over. My friends and I good-byed our way out the door, anxious for a good night's sleep.

We arrived a little late the next morning, having needed a stop for gas, and found many of the colt class riders up and riding. The colts were rested up, and they showed how the events of the previous day had affected them. Some, including one little sorrel mare, just didn't want to give up on bucking as a way of surviving. Others, who'd probably wished they had bucked the day before, gave it a try on Sunday. Still others had found the calm and comfort they needed in the previous day's adventure and looked about ready to go out and gather cows. None of those colts left there as anything but very green, but some had better impressions of how the human fit into their lives than they had before. Some might have had worse, but that's not to say the person in their lives didn't try to make a fitting presentation. Maybe it just didn't work out, for whatever reason.

The announcement was made about the participants gathering at the Stockyards for the photo shoot at 11:00 am. so at 10:00 I decided to go spend a little quality time with Sandy On the way, I ran into Barbara Chasteen, our local equine bodywork specialist, and with one pleading look and a word, got a little of that special treatment on myself. I sure can understand why the horses look forward to her visits. My shoulders were sore from dealing with my Short Arm Syndrome while riding Sandy, and Barbara's hands managed to loosen that up a little

Both of us went down to the stalls and while I fetched Sandy, she caught up Turbo and we went for a walk, Sandy seemed more settled, but Turbo still had some inner struggle going on. Being inside the building was too much sensory input for him. Harry said he'd tried to climb out over the top of his stall the first night, We walked them to the other end of the Will Rogers complex, to where Harry's trailer was parked, spent a few moments visiting there, and then walked back. I figured it was about time to find my ride over to the Stockyards, so I put Sandy away and left Barbara to work her magic hands on Turbo.

When I got back in the arena, Ray was in there alone on his mare. who was obviously troubled about being the only horse in sight. I quickly found my friends and found a seat and watched, fascinated, as Ray directed the mare and kept her focusing on a job to do, until she could be content to stay with Ray. It took a little time, and the photo shoot got pushed back to 12:00 because of it, but it was worth every moment, and worth the flight to Fort Worth just to see Ray work through this trouble. As the mare began to stay with Ray longer and longer, with Ray needing to do only a little directing, it was possible to see her belly muscles get rounder as she relaxed and took longer breaths. Her head stayed low, and her feet stayed on a line. Only her eyes and ears. at the end. gave indication of her ruthers. and then only for fleeting moments When Ray was satisfied, he let her go out the gate, relaxed. That only lasted a split second though, as the crowd applauded Ray, and the mare tightened up in fear as the thundering noise closed in behind her. But, at least, she had a place of softness to return to.

At the Stockyards, there was a lot of hurry up and wait. again. A lot of folks were gathered up, and so a lot of other folks were gathering signatures. It was an opportune moment to say hello to some of the folks I'd hadn't had the chance to greet, yet, and to meet some folks I'd always wanted to meet.

The shoot itself was a grueling affair. Placement of people, rearrangement of people, kneeling of people, and climbing of people on fences. I tried to stay put most of the time, and not volunteer for too much rearranging, or kneeling, or any climbing whatsoever. Several shots were taken, and several stragglers, who'd eaten lunch by that time, wandered in, so more shots were needed. Even the truck the photograper was perched on had to be moved a couple of times.

Cameras were flashing all over the place as well over a hundred people gathered behind the truck to watch and catch their own souvenir shots. I simply stayed put and smiled until my lips stuck to my gums. I'm not a very photogenic person, and generally don't like to see myself in pictures where there are no horses included I guess I feel the same as the late Bill Dorrance did about that A photo of a person is better if there's a horse in it, and better still if you see the whole horse. You can take that any way you want.

Finally, we were released from air drying our teeth, and from somewhere came the buzz that the horsemanship class would start at 2:00. I didn't have too much time for lunch, but did get a quick bite at a local restaurant before heading back to Will Rogers, where I was surprised to see riders already in the arena, and heard Ray's voice over the speakers I ran around a bit, trying to find Sandy. He wasn't in his stall, he wasn't at Harry's trailer, so I ran over to the warm up arena, and there he was, saddled and ready for me, with Ross riding him slowly around next to Harryand Turbo. I grabbed my armitas off the wall where Ross had left them for me, and I hope I remembered to thank him for being my "strapper," as they say Down Under. I spent a few moments shortening my reins a considerable amount, managed to climb on from the ground, then had Ross take up the stirrups for me. I called out, "C'mon, Harry!" and rode over to the Watt Arena. Although Harry didn't come along for another minute or so, Sandy showed no worries over going alone.

When Sandy and I got to the arena gate, we found it closed, with the class going on inside, and some other riders on the outside. Someone toid me that. the class had been divided in two, so the rest of us would join the second group.

Sandy was not inclined to watch the other horses in the arena, so he and I rode around the gate area and in the alleyways. Brad Cameron was working figure eights around some support columns on his large, handsome muie. and my figure eights occasionally took a trip down to his, i remembered Harry's warning not to allow Sandy to kick anybody as Sandy seemed uncomfortable around the mule.

My best ride that day was in the alleyway outside the arena. I stayed close to Sandy, who was much more relaxed than on Saturday, and kept working toward a goal of riding him with the reins draped and my arms crossed. As he began to feel more and more comfortable with following my feel. there was much less looking for Turbo, much less straying off the line. We could ride up the alleyway without fuss, and back down without hurry. We could travel figure eights whiie ! just plucked at the rein with one finger. I could direct the hind feet to either side with Just a soft feel on one rein or the other, and could ride a straight line at the walk with the reins long and swaying. Finally, we could stop and stand, out of sight of Turbo and the other horses, and he could stay and allow me to rub him on the neck. The day before my rubbing didn't mean much to him. Sunday, it seemed to feel good to him.

The first group ended their ride and I heard Ray acknowledging the effort of Michael Richardson, a fine horseman and true gentleman, whom i'd met for the first time that weekend. Lacking the use of his own legs, Michael rode four legs attached to a beautiful horse, and using only light dressage whips for cuing the horse, I would have loved to have participated in the standing ovation, but at the moment it erupted. Sandy left for Dallas at top speed. My first request to return to me went unnoticed, but I persisted, and he'd only run about sixty feet when he remembered what the rein meant and stepped his hinquarters over just enough to reverse course,

Our quiet time dissolved into more anxiety for poor Sandy, as we watched the other riders exit the arena. Horses were going in every direction, and Sandy just figured he should be with at least one of them. But. he stayed with me. with just small requests, and we made our way into the arena with a bit more float in the rein than we'd had on Saturday.

Sandy was much less lost. His ruthers went from finding Turbo, to finding the exit gate, to avoiding the far end of the arena, to wanting to kick a couple of other horses - and that muie' With only these few things keeping us from a chance at unity, I had time to pay attention to myself. And that was when I learned something about myself that really connected me to the horse, to all horses, and probably to all riders, too. The connection came later, after the moment of learning, which came during a moment when we were all stopped.

With Sandy staying with me better, it was pretty easy to stop him with just my seat and a light touch on the rein. So. I concentrated on getting those stops nice and straight, which it seemed ! could do at times, and at other times, the hindquarters would drift. Once my mind could focus on it, I was pretty certain it was one of my old bad habits coming up. I've had a long standing habit of dropping only one seat bone into a stop, and holding the other up a bit - sitting crooked. Now, I haven't yet figured out why- sometimes it's the right seat bone that gets held up and why sometimes it's the left, but it's a habit and I've tried to get nd of it Now, a person can't really get rid of a habit, but a person can replace a bad one with one that overrides it. That bad habit will reappear as soon as the conditions that caused it in the first place reappear, and the concentration on replacing it is not there. In my case. some particles of feel that have become a pattern for me cause that old habit of sitting crooked to reappear.

But there's more to it. There has to be If a person doesn't have a reason to maintain that concentration, it fades.

In that arena. I'd get to a stop and fee! those hindquarters start to drift, then sit down and put my left leg on Sandy to keep him straight. I was late Always late. I imagine my face must have shown my frustration a few times. When I realized how crooked I was sitting, I got prepared, and when the stop was asked for, I stopped STRAIGHT. But Sandy got confused, That hadn't been part of our stops before. Our previous stops included the life leaking out his ieft hind leg. There was no place for the life to go that he was expecting to go out the ieft hind ieg. but he knew it had to go somewhere. Immediately, the anxiousness that had been troubling our ride increased dramatically, and with no place else to go. Sandy just lifted both front feet off the ground. As many times as I'd stopped and backed him to get his mind with me. I could feel that softness come through despite his anxiety. But when he performed his mini-levade. he WAS with me. and I was aware that I had ASKED him to do that by not giving any of that life anywhere else to go, even if it was just a tiny amount going

somewhere else.

Then we were back at work and riding forward again. With no time to evaluate what happened, ! went on with my ride. When the group began loping, I could feel Sandy staying with me and let him extend his trot I suggested he could reach up into the lope, but didn't ask for it. I felt that asking for the lope would send him off with a bit of a start that could scare him, but I could have been wrong about that. At any rate, each time we got close to the lope. the trot was called for and we'd slow back down again.

Then, it was over. Ray said it was time to quit, so we did. I stepped off Sandy, still pondering over some of the moments I'd had, when my attention got called back to Ray. He asked me, "Where'd I fail you'?" For one split second my mind went, "Why? Did I do something terrible?" Now, that thought was a true revelation of another kind' I just smiled and said, "You haven't. Ray" And that was the truth.

As Ray passed gold dollar coins to each participant, I realized there was a try there. Being recognized by your peers for a job well done creates a cameraderie. Being recognized by your teachers and mentors can create either humility or pride. That gold dollar managed to do both, at least for me. no matter what the intention.

Harry and I slipped out of the arena and made our way back to the trailer. As many goodbyes were being said back inside the building, I remained with my good friends, spending the last few moments of the weekend in theicompany, then seeing them off down the road. I thanked Harry a lot for bringing me Sandy to ride. He seemed to regret that Sandy wasn't as prepared as he'd hoped, but I told him that I'd had a good time, and much preferred having a job to do, rather than just an appearance to make.

I hope the Tom Dorrance Benefit did what I hoped it was supposed to do: Expose some folks to the world that hadn't been well known but whose contributions were sincere, reduce a level of competition among those who are a!i headed the same direction, just maybe not riding single file, and most importantly, to start to provide Tom and Margaret with a!! they need for their comfort and security for the rest of their lives. Tom was the reason for being there. No matter what it may have done for anyone else, good or bad, in the arena or in the seats, not one person would have been there if it hadn't been for Tom and his desire for things to be good for the horse. People, their egos and attitudes, their actions and words, have value to Tom, if they reflect the same desire. 'Without that desire, those actions and attitudes would bend another direction, perhaps even unnoticeably. at first, unti! a person was way off the path.

I believe that Tom would want us all to see that no matter how far off the path we get, a horse can always bring us back. If we will allow it.

.

I've been struggling for a quite a little while to find the words to describe the depths to which a small particle of feel got handed to me while riding Sandy in Fort Worth. Seems that no arrangement of words or phrases did justice to the level of feel I experienced. They all came out as just words you'd expect, and in such a way as to have a person reading them think, "Well, duh!"

So, I almost considered just letting it drop. I didn't think I could share it with you all. It seems the feel between myself and the horse was too intimate to explain. But it's too important to let it go. So I'll see if I can do some justice to it.

The spot I was talking about has to do with the horse filling in. We may all have heard Ray Hunt say, "They learn what they live and live what they learn," and that entails this filling in part. I've spent the better part of my time with horses learning about how they operate, how they think and feel and respond and decide. I have devoted myself to finding the most fitting way to present my ideas to them, so that we can go along together without conflict. Along the way, I've discovered areas in myself where my presentation was not the best, set about to correct that, and failed, time and time again. It's a frustrating process at times, knowing you've got habits that need changing, replacing, and eliminating, and not being able to get it done despite your best efforts.

When I sat down straight on Sandy, and it surprised him and sent his front end in the air, at the time I only considered that it was just a little too much for him in his state of mind. and I just hadn't given him any other place to take that energy that he needed to let out. My feeling at the time was merely that I'd "done too much." I was thinking about sitting straight and not about seeing "how little it takes" to get that straight stop, But, of course, I didn't have a lot of time that day to dwell on things, so I let it go for the moment and reminded myself to just ease off some more on my presentation the next time

I can't remember exactly if it was the next day or the day after that I realized what actually happened to Sandy in that moment was more than that. Sure enough, it *was* that, but there was more to it than that.

This process of thinking recalled me to another clinic I rode in with another horse. I was riding a big horse his first day working cattle, and the horse was really wanting to go somewhere in those moments when the cow was stopped. A bunch of our stops would be straight when the cow was on our right, but those stops would have that big horse setting right down and elevating that front end. When the cow was on our left, the horse's hindquarters would drift to the left, toward the cow. and it was a little effort for me to get them back or try to keep that drift from happening.

Then flash back farther to a previous clinic with another horse. This time it was my old mare. Our stops were fairly straight, but one hind leg would step under, and the other would stay behind.

Flash back farther, to a clinic where I was riding my wonderful Chuck in a herd, and our right turns to stop a cow were fine, and our left turns weren't cutting it, until a moment when I stopped *trying* to get the turn.

Now, go back any farther and we'll start having to talk about the plastic pony on springs in the backyard.

The pattern of my presentation is what I'm noticing. This habit of sitting crooked, interfering with what I really wanted, getting in the way of my horse and not getting the arrangement of the feet where I wanted them to do the job I "'thought* I was asking him to do. Gosh, it's been there a long time, and my goodness how is it I've still got it? I know what I'm doing wrong and can't seem to correct myself. Maybe for that day or that moment, I'll get with the proper feel, but at some point, I'm continuing that crookedness, maybe when I'm somewhere else. doing something else and the horse is just filling in for me anyway.

****AAAAAAAHHHHHHAAAAAAA!!!!!!****

My goodness, these horses just talk to us and we can't hear what they say' I'm sure that half the time they must be crying out in frustration, "But you said...!"

Why haven't I conquered this bad habit? Because the horse figures it out and keeps filling in for me, or presents his confusion so consistently that it's easy to redirect him to fill in for me My habit has been consistent, so the horse's response has been consistent. I know what he's going to do. and I'm there to confirm or redirect, I'm actually teaching myself to continue my bad habit while explaining to the horse the futility of telling me about it! Shoot! At least I'm consistent' He's got no choice but to fill in for me.

For so long now, I've been yammering at you all about how you present your ideas. "It's all in your presentation." I've said, time and time again. Well. I'm here to tell you now. it isn't *all* in your presentation, because you've also got to feel back to your horse and recognize what your horse is feeling back from you. Learning to recognize those moments, when the horse might be thinking. "Yah, yah. you dummy. I've got it. now get out of my way and let me do it." can reach such a level of intimacy of feel. It can get so subtle for us humans, but still be as big as a blister to a horse.

There's a fella that says something like. "If your horse doesn't understand you either asked the question wrong or asked the wrong question." I'd like to bend that thought a little, more in the direction another fella would probably like to say. If your horse doesn't understand, you *answered* his question wrong, or *answered* the wrong question. Or better still, substitute the word "different" in place of "wrong."

Some of my best. most dedicated students have often said to me, "I know it's me. I'm not presenting it well." Well, I can't argue with that, but I can offer hope for it.

We humans get so geared to the mechanics of presentation, even when it gets down to a real finesse. We may *know* we're not presenting our idea in the most fitting way, and we may be frustrated over not knowing *how* to present that idea better. We may need to "get things done." in order to get past it, in order for the horse to understand well enough that he can go ahead and fill in for us. My, but what we are missing!

Sure, my responsibility is there to be the leader in the herd, the senior partner in the partnership, the captain of the ship, or however you want to look at it. The onus is upon me to present my ideas in the way that is most fitting. But sometimes, maybe most of the time, what is most fitting has nothing to do with the horse responding to my request. What is most fitting is that feel back from the horse and being able to understand what he's telling me at that moment. What he's telling me may not be, "I don't understand you, Gail." It may be, "That's not what you said a minute ago, Gait." But then, it may be, "Well, Gail, we'll do it your way, but it's probably not what you really wanted, so I'm screwed anyway."

Now, if you're reading this and thinking, "yeah. well. of course." and nodding your head along, I might not have presented it as well as I would have liked. If maybe you're thinking, "geez. why do I even bother trying if my horse is just being betrayed all the time?" then maybe I've done too much. This part about filling in is just so much there and so much a part of the horse, even those horses that don't seem to do as much filling in for us. It seems there's a real razor's edge about it that cuts pretty deep for me, and I don't know if I've balanced it very well in this post.

We've all got our own set of habits. Some of them allow us to present our ideas in a very fitting way, and some of them get in the way of that. We go along in our lives with horses, working to improve ourselves and our presentation, without always knowing exactly *what* it is we need to improve. Sometimes we settle for less than perfection, on the clear understanding that perfection is unattainable, but we don't really know how close we can get. All along the way, the horse is learning about us, feeling of us, telling us what's going on with him all of the time. He doesn't stop telling us, even while we're pondering over how to understand him better. He stands there, like a kid waving his hand and leaping in the air, telling us he's got the answer, while we stare off into the distance trying to think of ways to give him the answer.

While it seems important to assume that we have the sole responsibility to make ourselves clear to the horse, it can be too *self*-important to take that much of it on ourselves if we're not clear where the horse *is *

What I'm wanting is to give you all hope. not tear down all your expectations and have you worry about your presentation all the time. I'm hoping we can all get back to being ten year olds again, who knew how to present fitting ideas, because they felt of the horse so well. It's interesting that we give our kids horses that know how to fill in better than colts, because of their experience around humans, when kids could probably teach us a thing or two about starting colts, because of their feel of horses.

I'm very grateful to a little horse named Sandy, because he taught me something without even trying, by just being responsive, learning about me and how I present myself, and for telling me about it. His sensitivity and energy in his situation gave me a better understanding of all horses, where maybe, if he'd been in his own backyard, he'd have just done way too much filling in, or not presented himself so clearly to me. and I'd never have "got it."

There comes a time when no human can give you words or guidance enough for

you to get what your horse is trying to teach you,

So, I'll shut up now.

Thanks for reading.

Gail I.