What is the lesson?

Grace under fire? Humbleness? Go with the flow? Uncle, shall I say it again, uncle? I get it I get it I get it. Or maybe I haven't, and that's why I keep being thrown onto the mat again, and again, and again. Just as soon as I get the keys from the gods of "through", "connected" and "on the aids", the demons of spring grass rear their green heads and run cackling down the barn aisles.

I should have known when I turned Ren, fully tacked up, to go back into his stall, and he planted himself, and with every possible communication skill he possesses he said, no, we need to head out that door to the green, get it lady?, grass. This, even though he always goes back in the stall tacked up while I go put on my boots and helmet. It gives him a few more minutes of hay time and well, I can run to the room of rest if need be. What was he thinking? I was going to take him out to graze with a saddle on? Sigh. I should have known.

I took him into the indoor arena and longed him. We did it all, he did it pleasantly, no bucks, all business. Great. Got on him with the intention of walking out the door into the lovely afternoon and down the hill to the outdoor arena for our session. Hmmmm. I should have known. He came out of the arena as though he were performing for the crowds with a pack of wolves at his heels. Interesting. I should have known. It usually takes me 30 minutes of work to get that engine going, and here we were, as Patty so aptly put it when she saw us in the parking lot - all fired up. I kept walking around the driveways, the parking lot, the grassy areas, mulling over whether heading down the hill in the wind to the faraway outdoor arena was really the smartest thing to do. I decided no. So we walked some more, he's still on his toes, I keep my seat bones planted, asking him to go left, go right, do this, do that. Finally, I say, let's go into the arena. He stops, backs up, goes sideways, telling me, not softly, that that's not on his agenda. Well, that starts a 30 minute tango of go forward, okay, well, then back up, okay, you like forward better don't you, taking off, coming back, hauling me sideways, head tossing, and after a couple of boots, really just jumping up and down. I tried faking him out, heading on a slight diagonal towards the door, praising all the while. He balked halfway there. There was no tiring him out. When I found us in a tight spot between two buildings and his pants all in a twist, I hopped off and lead him into the arena. Alright, already, uncle.

I walked him around briskly while I cooled off. Then I got on. He promptly tried to haul me out the door. I said uh no, and we had a little tiff. He was obsessed, and it seemed as though nothing I could do would help him turn off of the path he was on. I tried all the things that worked so well over the weekend. I was pretty determined to make it all go just that well again, when he popped his tongue out. At 15 years of age, my beautiful horse has chosen to show his tuning out by hanging his tongue out of the side of his mouth while going around the ring. I immediately backed off, loosened the rein, the tongue returned to its normal location, and I just rode him on large loopy circles that I determined. He couldn't haul me out the door, but I couldn't force the issue. It was a draw.

What is the lesson? I have control over very few things in my life. I have control over my reaction to things. Renny is not a bad horse. He is just a horse. He has opinions that are not mine, he tries to tell me, sometimes I can hear him, sometimes I choose not to listen. We muddle through. Sometimes we have moments from the gods, somedays those demons run amok with glee. But in the end, we have each other, and we are the better for it.