One of the things about getting older is that when you revisit your life you can learn something from what has happened to you. Not only can you see what was good and how you handled it but you can see what was not-so-good and how you messed up with handling that.
I don't know how much that knowledge will impinge upon the rest of your life but at least you can see what happened before and draw whatever conclusions you decide to draw from it.
I was blessed with a really nice horse. He was my Appaloosa, Hawk, and I was lucky enough to know even then that I was blessed to have him. However (and there is always a however isn't there?) there were times when Hawk was a bit of a handicap to me. Let me explain.
I lived a peripatetic life when I was coming up in the industry and I am using that word in the sense that I moved around a lot from farm to farm to get my education as a working student. I took my truck, my trailer and my horse and that was pretty much it. I would move in, learn as much as I could absorb in the situation and then move on. I worked at some pretty nice farms that way and met some interesting and knowledgeable people as I moved through the industry.
I worked at a select dressage place for a while which was hosting one of the top men in the dressage world for that era. Back then there were no warm bloods of different types to use for dressage in the US. We had Thoroughbreds, we had Quarter Horses and Morgans, we had Appaloosas and we had Arabians. We had horses that were combinations of those horses or combinations of different horses but Americans were new to the dressage market back then and we were not as well mounted as we think we are today.
Hawk was in the midst of a group of elegant Arabians at that farm and he was something of an onion in a petunia patch looks-wise. The dressage master would often watch as I worked one of the Arabians that was assigned to me. Then he would comment, usually unkindly, about the horse's way of going.
Needless to say the owner was displeased when that happened. One day when I was working Hawk the master came over and commented, in an amazingly complimentary way, about my horse and his way of going. He then sent over one of his students to offer to buy the horse for her own mount. Unfortunately for me the owner of the place heard all of this.
You know that sinking feeling that you get when you realize that for reasons beyond your control your time in a situation is going to be limited?
Yeah, I had that feeling and it was right on the money. Hawk and I were on the road again and it was actually quite a relief for all concerned.
That happened several times here and there in my career. I came to realize that it is not a good thing to have a better horse with you than the owner of the farm where you are employed has. I never regretted the horse, mind you, only the circumstances.
I thought when Hawk passed and went to where the good horses go that I would at least never have to deal with that feeling again. Slim comfort but you take what you can, right? But it happened again.
I took art lessons when I retired. I learned there that I am a "linear" artist. So who knew? Then I learned that a "linear" artist is one who draws things. I literally can't paint something without a detailed road map of what it is that I am going to paint. Some folks can just pick up that brush and go for it, but not me. It's just the way that it works for me.
One of the students in that class would walk around and see what everyone else was doing and comment (rather grandly) upon their efforts. That person walked behind me looking at my work several times with no comment at all.
Then I heard her return to the teacher of the group and say, "Why does Hope have to draw all of that out when she is just going to paint over it anyway?" It didn't sound like a compliment the way she said it either. The teacher said gently, "Maybe because she can..." And I got that feeling again. And I was right. Again.
Suffice it to say that the person and I are not close nor are we ever likely to be. At least this time it wasn't Hawk's fault. I did it all myself. I don't regret it, but I still regret the circumstances.
