Well, last night, I wrote a note to a friend and I was rememberin' a line from an old book about faith, a mustard seed and a mountain. It's a simple line and in this day and age, pretty easy to discount. For starters, even isolatin' one mountain worth movin' could seem like a fools errand; there are too many and they are all connected. Some days, maybe, it seems like nothin' but mountains and even the question of where you'd move one, simply overwhelming.
I remember one of the first horses I took on, when I broke off on my own, after havin' spent a couple a years with some fine horseman, up north. I called him "Roanie"; a strawberry roan. He wasn't real tall, but he was stout! And, strawberry roan, that's another name for a "redhead". Oh, and I forgot to mention the fine roman nose he had; some say that's an indication of a particularly strong personality. Then, a course there was the rancher that dropped him off, kinda in a hurry. All he had time to say was, "he should be real gentle", as he pulled his hat down over his eyes and turned to leave, allowin' no time for eye contact or questions.
Well, bein' an optomistic sort and, full of confidence, havin' spent so much time with them fella's up north, plumb capable as they were, I took him in the round pen, get to know each other. I moved him around a little, but he was kinda distracted, so I figured I'd toss a loop on his butt, see if I could get his attention. Well, it kinda worked in reverse, 'cause he got mine; next thing I knew I was standin' in the remains of the round pen and "roanie" was headin' out across the flat like one of those rockets with wheels, they use, try and set land speed records. I considered how it might be a good idea, for him to get to know the other horses, out on pasture.
Anyway, evenin' when everybody come in for a flake of hay. Me and "roanie" had a talk about our prospects; me workin' at McDonald's and him endin' up 'tween the buns. I confessed I was kinda nervous about the whole deal, but I didn't see where we had any good choices, 'cept to try and work things out. I knew the rancher that owned him and he didn't take no losses lightly.
And, believe it or not, we did find a way. We not only got along, we plumb fell in love. He turned into such a fine horse, the owner told everybody I was a genius and THE only fella, take a young horse to. Needless to say, I didn't have to go to McDonald's. I got more work 'cause a that one horse, than one fella needed; nobody believed it wasn't me.
It turned out, young "roanie" was just scared, 'cause he didn't understand much, but he had learned he could scare folks and that had offered him some cover. So, when I just offerred him a few pointers and he realized he could make sense, well, he just got all excited about bein' together. It was miraculous. And, I do mean miraculous; just a willingness in each other, try, and stuff happened I could never explain. Mercy, magic and kindness on both of us.
So, maybe, the trick is, not to go countin' mountains, but just to figure, where ya got to go and pick up a foot; ya just never know who might help and what a difference that help might make.
Best,
jeune
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