Family Day
C.A. MacConnell
5/30/2016
5/28/2016
Horse Sense: Laughter and Love
Today, I was cleaning stalls, and I wasn't feeling top notch with the heat and all, but for once, we were getting the work done fast, and we were almost done, but I swore that I felt someone watching me. I looked around. The other guys were shoveling away. Nothing. I shrugged and started sweeping. Still, I knew that someone was watching me. I knew it, but I swept on, sweating away. Then I stopped and looked around again. Still nothing. So I continued with the mission, feeling weird.
Then I stopped quickly and turned around fast, and I glanced at the stall across from me. There was Rugby, the 16'3 bay thoroughbred gelding, staring at me. He was the one intently watching, and I realized that he'd probably been watching me sweep the entire aisle. Rugby is a horse that just got shipped in from another farm and weirdly enough, I used to work at the other barn, and I used to ride him, so he's new at this farm, but he remembers me, and I think he's thrilled to know someone at the new place. He's super talented, and I really like the guy, so sometimes I pretend he's mine. Well, I think he does the same thing; that is, he pretends that I'm his owner. So there he was intensely staring at me, and he continued to stare while I worked. And he was clearly smiling. Horses have this look, and it's an unmistakable grin. Sometimes it even gives the feel of a chuckle or a clear laugh. For some reason, Rugby is fascinated with me, and he also thinks I'm hilarious. Not only did he stare, but when I moved, he shifted around in his stall to make sure he still had a view of me.
So I laughed and waved at him.
He shook his head, smiled, and stared. He was so entertained by our "staring game" that he wasn't even eating his fresh hay.
It's the funniest thing. The other day, his possible new owner came to ride him, and I happened to be in the aisle sweeping when she was trying to put on the bridle. Every time she tried to tack him up, he moved around, looked at me, and I swear he laughed. The new possible owner was furious, because she was having a horrible time getting him ready, but he was just playing a game with her, and he was making sure that I saw his tricks. Just like people, some horses have a great sense of humor. Rugby likes to play games and watch me slave away cleaning aisles, ha.
But what has struck me is that when I get around horses, I immediately become more intuitive, and I'm often this way with people as well, just because I've lived most of my life in the horse world. There's this ability, or "horse sense," I like to call it. I wrote an article about it for Cincinnati Magazine and The Chronicle of the Horse some time back.
Any job/hobby/lifestyle will change a person's view of the world. My world with horses has taught me to see what is really there behind the silence. In Rugby's case, it's all laughter and love.
A good way to live life, Rugby. Thanks for the reminder. Laughter and love. Come join me,
C.A. MacConnell
Then I stopped quickly and turned around fast, and I glanced at the stall across from me. There was Rugby, the 16'3 bay thoroughbred gelding, staring at me. He was the one intently watching, and I realized that he'd probably been watching me sweep the entire aisle. Rugby is a horse that just got shipped in from another farm and weirdly enough, I used to work at the other barn, and I used to ride him, so he's new at this farm, but he remembers me, and I think he's thrilled to know someone at the new place. He's super talented, and I really like the guy, so sometimes I pretend he's mine. Well, I think he does the same thing; that is, he pretends that I'm his owner. So there he was intensely staring at me, and he continued to stare while I worked. And he was clearly smiling. Horses have this look, and it's an unmistakable grin. Sometimes it even gives the feel of a chuckle or a clear laugh. For some reason, Rugby is fascinated with me, and he also thinks I'm hilarious. Not only did he stare, but when I moved, he shifted around in his stall to make sure he still had a view of me.
So I laughed and waved at him.
He shook his head, smiled, and stared. He was so entertained by our "staring game" that he wasn't even eating his fresh hay.
It's the funniest thing. The other day, his possible new owner came to ride him, and I happened to be in the aisle sweeping when she was trying to put on the bridle. Every time she tried to tack him up, he moved around, looked at me, and I swear he laughed. The new possible owner was furious, because she was having a horrible time getting him ready, but he was just playing a game with her, and he was making sure that I saw his tricks. Just like people, some horses have a great sense of humor. Rugby likes to play games and watch me slave away cleaning aisles, ha.
But what has struck me is that when I get around horses, I immediately become more intuitive, and I'm often this way with people as well, just because I've lived most of my life in the horse world. There's this ability, or "horse sense," I like to call it. I wrote an article about it for Cincinnati Magazine and The Chronicle of the Horse some time back.
Any job/hobby/lifestyle will change a person's view of the world. My world with horses has taught me to see what is really there behind the silence. In Rugby's case, it's all laughter and love.
A good way to live life, Rugby. Thanks for the reminder. Laughter and love. Come join me,
C.A. MacConnell
5/21/2016
5/20/2016
And When Your Heart Burns
When your heart burns, ask yourself, What if this is all there is? Right now, what if all that you have -- where you work, where you live (whether you are single, married, or in between), what car you drive, the car that's in the shop, your bus ticket, your bathtub, this sky, these stars -- what if it is all that you will ever have? What if you'll never be able to fix that hole in the wall? What if you are sitting on millions, but you are alone? What if this is all there is?
And for me...what if there's no book deal, no true love coming, no horse of my own, no cure for my illness? What if this small apartment, my aged cat, my lack of furniture, my barn job that's way below my experience, my few possessions, and my few clothes are all that I will ever have? What if I will have to fight my dark thoughts forever? What if this is it? Would this be all right?
Yes.
It has to be, because in this moment, this is my reality. I can accept it, or I can feel utterly defeated. Which one will I choose today? Will I choose to live inside a world of frustration, or will I do the best damn job I can while cleaning disgusting feed buckets. Well, my fingernails are black underneath, if that tells you anything. Suit up, show up, do the best job I can. In this moment, that is all I can do.
No.
Dream like a fire tearing through kindling. Dream like a warrior heading home to see the child he's never seen. Dream like a girl sitting in her closet, waiting for that one phone call. Dream like no one has ever dreamt before. Dream you will ride again, and dream that in the show ring, you will kick the ass of anyone you've ever worked for. Dream that motherfucker who told you not to dream will take a cross country trip and learn how to dream himself. When your heart burns, ask it where it wants to go. Dream like a windstorm ripping through the tallest trees. And dream that true love is coming, because magic makes you feel alive, and life is too short to feel any. other. way.
I see stars.
And then make sure the feed buckets are spotless.
C.A. MacConnell
And for me...what if there's no book deal, no true love coming, no horse of my own, no cure for my illness? What if this small apartment, my aged cat, my lack of furniture, my barn job that's way below my experience, my few possessions, and my few clothes are all that I will ever have? What if I will have to fight my dark thoughts forever? What if this is it? Would this be all right?
Yes.
It has to be, because in this moment, this is my reality. I can accept it, or I can feel utterly defeated. Which one will I choose today? Will I choose to live inside a world of frustration, or will I do the best damn job I can while cleaning disgusting feed buckets. Well, my fingernails are black underneath, if that tells you anything. Suit up, show up, do the best job I can. In this moment, that is all I can do.
No.
Dream like a fire tearing through kindling. Dream like a warrior heading home to see the child he's never seen. Dream like a girl sitting in her closet, waiting for that one phone call. Dream like no one has ever dreamt before. Dream you will ride again, and dream that in the show ring, you will kick the ass of anyone you've ever worked for. Dream that motherfucker who told you not to dream will take a cross country trip and learn how to dream himself. When your heart burns, ask it where it wants to go. Dream like a windstorm ripping through the tallest trees. And dream that true love is coming, because magic makes you feel alive, and life is too short to feel any. other. way.
I see stars.
And then make sure the feed buckets are spotless.
C.A. MacConnell
5/18/2016
Milk Carton
Proof of life:
Tangled hair, twisted throw.
The animal and I,
We wake.
Strange captor calls from the
Family.
Now, stretching. True, I'm no brow-beauty.
Some other missing girl will
Bring the ransom
Home.
She'll be a longer living wall fly.
Some say she'll stick.
Ground coffee, look here, I make the black
Law. I admit, it's a little
Strong.
Call the shepherds. They know
Blood.
Find the sign,
The lost shoe,
The search team, the one
Phone call,
The right or wrong
Words. Relatives know how to make a
Deal. Someone finds a bad sock,
A trace.
Hero, empty or full, don't forget the suit
case.
C.A. MacConnell
Tangled hair, twisted throw.
The animal and I,
We wake.
Strange captor calls from the
Family.
Now, stretching. True, I'm no brow-beauty.
Some other missing girl will
Bring the ransom
Home.
She'll be a longer living wall fly.
Some say she'll stick.
Ground coffee, look here, I make the black
Law. I admit, it's a little
Strong.
Call the shepherds. They know
Blood.
Find the sign,
The lost shoe,
The search team, the one
Phone call,
The right or wrong
Words. Relatives know how to make a
Deal. Someone finds a bad sock,
A trace.
Hero, empty or full, don't forget the suit
case.
C.A. MacConnell
5/15/2016
Barn Girl
She watches the ladies
ride. For hours,
she watches.
Keeping
time.
The adults come in the morning.
Breeches and
tall,
leather
boots.
The kids roll in
some
afternoons.
Jeans and half-chaps.
She knows that
together,
what she sees --
what they wear --
is worth
thousands.
Today the high is fifty-two.
Tomorrow looks
similar.
The chestnut mare and Orion, the black,
may
need
sheets.
One grey, dirty, barn cat
loves her.
She pushes the
thing away.
Nine stalls left.
And then the shavings.
She pretends
that the bay one is
hers.
She cleans her
paddock boots. For no reason,
she polishes the toe
until it
shines.
Ryan shakes her hand,
and she goes
home.
C.A. MacConnell
ride. For hours,
she watches.
Keeping
time.
The adults come in the morning.
Breeches and
tall,
leather
boots.
The kids roll in
some
afternoons.
Jeans and half-chaps.
She knows that
together,
what she sees --
what they wear --
is worth
thousands.
Today the high is fifty-two.
Tomorrow looks
similar.
The chestnut mare and Orion, the black,
may
need
sheets.
One grey, dirty, barn cat
loves her.
She pushes the
thing away.
Nine stalls left.
And then the shavings.
She pretends
that the bay one is
hers.
She cleans her
paddock boots. For no reason,
she polishes the toe
until it
shines.
Ryan shakes her hand,
and she goes
home.
C.A. MacConnell
5/10/2016
Familiar Faces
Guess who showed up where I was working today? This guy:
He's so fun to ride. Nobody at this new place knows I've ridden him, funny. It's always nice to see familiar faces. He remembered me. I could tell he was thinking, Well, would you look at that...there's that funny girl with the big head.
C.A. MacConnell
Photos: Dark Horse
This guy lives near one of my walking routes. I believe he is a Friesian cross. His eyes are a lovely amber color. He looks to be an older fellow, perhaps about 19 now, would be my guess. I'd like to meet the owner to see if I'm correct. He really needs a buddy, another gelding who's laid back, just sayin.
"If one hasn't a horse, one is one's own horse." -- Vincent Van Gogh
C.A. MacConnell
5/08/2016
The Moves of Chrissy Tulip
Yesterday, I went roller skating, and while I was dodging six-year-olds, I thought about when I was little, and Mom used to drop me off at the roller rink every single Saturday with my "chaperone," Chrissy Tulip (name changed). Now, Chrissy was only a few years older than me, and she wasn't much of a chaperone at all, because she was absolutely wild, and the boys loved her. Of course, Chrissy was a knockout. And then some. With long, black, feathered hair (held back by sparkly combs), Chrissy was tall, thin, and as graceful as any bird.
At the time, I had puffy, furry, fuzzy, static-ridden brown hair, and I was short and squat. My favorite Velva Sheen T-shirt was ironed with Smurfette on the front. Chrissy had cat-like blue eyes, and she had those special speed skates with pom poms, bells, and supersonic lasers or some shit. My skates were white, cheap hand-me-downs, and they were so scuffed, they nearly appeared gray. Chrissy wore dark, tight Chic jeans with a gold belt, and the clasp was an actual tiny, gold roller skate. I wore Levis that were too long, so I'd taken a scissors to the bottom of them. Let's put it this way -- my every lumbering duck move made Chrissy look more and more like a gentle, artistic swan.
So every Saturday, all damn day long, I was doomed to skate in the shadow of Chrissy. I was fast on my skates, but I was never smooth at all. With me, it was just muscle and boyish moves. Chrissy could backwards skate, side skate, do ridiculous circles, beam to Saturn and back, you name it. She was one of the girls who did demos in the middle when there was a break in the action. And she was always slow-skating with a boy here and there (undoubtedly the star boy skater in the rink). While Chrissy Tulip skated around the rink, first, one boy would start following her. Then two. Then ten or so, all amazed by her slick, black hair, long scissor legs, and her razor sharp roller moves.
And there I was next to her, trooping along like her funny sidekick, the princess' hilarious troll. I tried and tried, but I could never live up to Chrissy Tulip's presence. She was my friend in the neighborhood, but once we got to the roller rink, she turned into a disco demon on wheels.
Well, not long after, a group of neighborhood kids were playing Red Rover in the backyard. Holding hands, there were about five kids on each end of the yard. I was on one end, and Chrissy was in the group on the other. Of course, the object of Red Rover was about one side daring the other, and then the other side ran across to try and break any hand-holds. Well, in that sweetly perfect voice, Chrissy yelled, "Red Rover, Red Rover, I dare you to come over!" Without hesitation, I started running. And running. Faster and faster, I headed straight for Chrissy, who was holding the hand of Timmy Bolter (name changed). Man, how I pumped my short, stock legs, and I suddenly realized that since Chrissy had been spending most of her time slow-skating with boys, and I had spent most of my time trying to keep up with her, I had magically become super strong and fast as hell. So I aimed straight for that hand-lock she had on Timmy, and not only did I barrel through their hands, but I knocked them both over.
All three of us -- Timmy, Chrissy, and me -- fell into the grass, cracking up. All in the neighborhood were stunned by my sheer Red Rover power. Usually, I just kind of loped along at the game. Not anymore. Suddenly, I was in it for blood. And I realized that roller queen Chrissy might've been butter-smooth, but I had become faster and stronger, and I made them all laugh, and I thought I might challenge her to a race the next time Mom dropped us off at the roller rink.
After that, Timmy asked me if I wanted to play football with the boys in the front yard, which was indeed a great honor. Anything in the front yard was an honor. With a great gesture of approval, Chrissy Tulip nodded, turned her perfect Chic-jean-clad hips, and followed me.
C.A. MacConnell
At the time, I had puffy, furry, fuzzy, static-ridden brown hair, and I was short and squat. My favorite Velva Sheen T-shirt was ironed with Smurfette on the front. Chrissy had cat-like blue eyes, and she had those special speed skates with pom poms, bells, and supersonic lasers or some shit. My skates were white, cheap hand-me-downs, and they were so scuffed, they nearly appeared gray. Chrissy wore dark, tight Chic jeans with a gold belt, and the clasp was an actual tiny, gold roller skate. I wore Levis that were too long, so I'd taken a scissors to the bottom of them. Let's put it this way -- my every lumbering duck move made Chrissy look more and more like a gentle, artistic swan.
So every Saturday, all damn day long, I was doomed to skate in the shadow of Chrissy. I was fast on my skates, but I was never smooth at all. With me, it was just muscle and boyish moves. Chrissy could backwards skate, side skate, do ridiculous circles, beam to Saturn and back, you name it. She was one of the girls who did demos in the middle when there was a break in the action. And she was always slow-skating with a boy here and there (undoubtedly the star boy skater in the rink). While Chrissy Tulip skated around the rink, first, one boy would start following her. Then two. Then ten or so, all amazed by her slick, black hair, long scissor legs, and her razor sharp roller moves.
And there I was next to her, trooping along like her funny sidekick, the princess' hilarious troll. I tried and tried, but I could never live up to Chrissy Tulip's presence. She was my friend in the neighborhood, but once we got to the roller rink, she turned into a disco demon on wheels.
Well, not long after, a group of neighborhood kids were playing Red Rover in the backyard. Holding hands, there were about five kids on each end of the yard. I was on one end, and Chrissy was in the group on the other. Of course, the object of Red Rover was about one side daring the other, and then the other side ran across to try and break any hand-holds. Well, in that sweetly perfect voice, Chrissy yelled, "Red Rover, Red Rover, I dare you to come over!" Without hesitation, I started running. And running. Faster and faster, I headed straight for Chrissy, who was holding the hand of Timmy Bolter (name changed). Man, how I pumped my short, stock legs, and I suddenly realized that since Chrissy had been spending most of her time slow-skating with boys, and I had spent most of my time trying to keep up with her, I had magically become super strong and fast as hell. So I aimed straight for that hand-lock she had on Timmy, and not only did I barrel through their hands, but I knocked them both over.
All three of us -- Timmy, Chrissy, and me -- fell into the grass, cracking up. All in the neighborhood were stunned by my sheer Red Rover power. Usually, I just kind of loped along at the game. Not anymore. Suddenly, I was in it for blood. And I realized that roller queen Chrissy might've been butter-smooth, but I had become faster and stronger, and I made them all laugh, and I thought I might challenge her to a race the next time Mom dropped us off at the roller rink.
After that, Timmy asked me if I wanted to play football with the boys in the front yard, which was indeed a great honor. Anything in the front yard was an honor. With a great gesture of approval, Chrissy Tulip nodded, turned her perfect Chic-jean-clad hips, and followed me.
C.A. MacConnell
5/07/2016
Photo: Hawk
"How far that little candle throws his beams! So shines a good deed in a weary world." -- William Shakespeare
Let me keep the focus on helping others. Dear God, what is it you wish for me to do,
C.A. MacConnell
5/05/2016
5/01/2016
If I Had...Then I'd Be Happy
Lost Glove 17
If I Had...Then I'd Be Happy
Wearing a lovely blue/green mud mask, I'm sitting here asking myself this question; that is, if I had (insert something here), then I'd be happy. What would I put in there? The first things that come to mind are not of divine nature, I admit. I think of the following: to have a horse, and to find my other half (the other glove). Then I think of love, respect, service, my books, a cure. I think of God, sure. I think of the ocean, going swimming. My cat. How I'd like a dog. My own house. Then I laugh and think, due to my daily cleaning ritual, If I had a maid, I would save hours of time in the day.
Then I chuckle and think about goldfish. I used to have a goldfish named Mary. She lived with me at school for a while, and then she traveled back and forth home with me on breaks. That ridiculous fish never died. Finally I put her in the fish tank at the Science department. She's probably still in there, all these years later. She's probably the size of Jaws.
Then I think about meditation. I have to bring it back to something a little more lofty, ha.
Anyway, then I think about today, how I walked some hills, met with two friends, and dreamt about a man. Today was good. Minus the morning, I was happy. Then there was a little downtime about a half hour ago, but overall, when I think about it, I'm aaright. What am I looking for? I'm aaright. This is me. This is now. I'm alive, safe, trying the best I can. Yes. Then I get lonely. Whatever, I'm a human who wants to hold a hand. I'm a human who wants. Back to sun, gratitude. These things do work, but I have to keep practicing.
I don't claim to be a guru, but isn't the goal to be able to be happy right here, right now, under any circumstances? Remember the old cliche? True happiness rests within. I know this is true, and I suppose we all do deep down, but sometimes I have to be a real trooper getting there. And a ride helps. And a swim would help, I'm sure. And you know, I think my other half is around somewhere, wondering the same things. And hell, I'd settle for a stuffed horse. That would be a-okay. Hey, it seems like I am on the right path, and I may take some detours, but deep down, my heart feels right.
I can see the god in a goldfish,
C.A. MacConnell
Wearing a lovely blue/green mud mask, I'm sitting here asking myself this question; that is, if I had (insert something here), then I'd be happy. What would I put in there? The first things that come to mind are not of divine nature, I admit. I think of the following: to have a horse, and to find my other half (the other glove). Then I think of love, respect, service, my books, a cure. I think of God, sure. I think of the ocean, going swimming. My cat. How I'd like a dog. My own house. Then I laugh and think, due to my daily cleaning ritual, If I had a maid, I would save hours of time in the day.
Then I chuckle and think about goldfish. I used to have a goldfish named Mary. She lived with me at school for a while, and then she traveled back and forth home with me on breaks. That ridiculous fish never died. Finally I put her in the fish tank at the Science department. She's probably still in there, all these years later. She's probably the size of Jaws.
Then I think about meditation. I have to bring it back to something a little more lofty, ha.
Anyway, then I think about today, how I walked some hills, met with two friends, and dreamt about a man. Today was good. Minus the morning, I was happy. Then there was a little downtime about a half hour ago, but overall, when I think about it, I'm aaright. What am I looking for? I'm aaright. This is me. This is now. I'm alive, safe, trying the best I can. Yes. Then I get lonely. Whatever, I'm a human who wants to hold a hand. I'm a human who wants. Back to sun, gratitude. These things do work, but I have to keep practicing.
I don't claim to be a guru, but isn't the goal to be able to be happy right here, right now, under any circumstances? Remember the old cliche? True happiness rests within. I know this is true, and I suppose we all do deep down, but sometimes I have to be a real trooper getting there. And a ride helps. And a swim would help, I'm sure. And you know, I think my other half is around somewhere, wondering the same things. And hell, I'd settle for a stuffed horse. That would be a-okay. Hey, it seems like I am on the right path, and I may take some detours, but deep down, my heart feels right.
I can see the god in a goldfish,
C.A. MacConnell