Over twenty-five years ago my mother, an avid horsewoman, was trampled by two Clydesdales. She went into a standing stall with two unknown huge horses. A stallion and a mare stood there, as my mother hunched down to get a closer look at their legs. She tells me it happened so fast that before she knew it, the mare was standing above her, with her leg suspended in the air hovering over my mother. The mare also had the stallion pinned to the opposite side of the standing stall, preventing him from continuing to stomp on her. This left her with a broken pelvis, broken ribs, punctured lung and numerous other broken bones. The doctor's told her she flatlined a few times on the operating table. Well, her bones have healed over time but most importantly her inner wounds never, ever did heal.
My mother lived, breathed and surrounded herself with horses as much as money, kids, and time would allow. I remember my mother as being the 5 foot 2 spitfire that had the body language of a lion when it came to handling horses of all sizes. She was well known for being a knower of horses and could connect with them like no other. I would see her riding the friskiest, ball of energy horses and her moving in unison up down, if they tended to give a little buck, sideways, if they happened to bolt because of birds fluttering out of the bush or around in circles, if the horse decided to not go over a bridge or through a gulley. She was one with the horse she was on and the horses knew it. I admired her for the horsewoman she was and I aspired early on to follow on in her footsteps and be one with my horses as well.
From the time my mother has had this very frightening incident happen, she has never owned a horse again, never rode a horse again and never got within much more than 10 feet from them.
About 8 years ago, I owned a couple of horses. An eight year old Thoroughbred, a flea-bitten old gray Arabian and a pinto/paint miniature colt. I asked my Mother to come out to my barn while she was visiting me from Quebec. She did come out, to my surprise. She had lost so much interest in horses over the years and my prodding usually ended up with her not wanting anything to do with them. This day she came. I figured in my mind, that even if I could get her to come up and pet my miniature colt and see how small he was, that she would at least enjoy the feeling of petting him. He could gain the confidence and put aside the unspoken fear I know she held so close to her heart. After all he was so darn cute! But Bandit, my Arabian had other ideas and apparently so did my Mother.
She told me that she was drawn to Bandit because he had a peaceful look in his eyes and she felt comfortable with him. Bandit was 20 years old at that time. His experience with humans over the years had obviously been good and did not pay too much attention to peoples stories. He looked at her and she looked at him and together they had a deep inner peace pass between their souls. He nudged into her and she relished the instant bond she felt with him. In that instant, I again, had seen my old “horse knower”mother come through. She stood up in that old familiar, spitfire stance; looking taller and broader and released all of the love she still had deep, deep within her. Her body language was again flourishing with confidence and she smiled a genuine lovely smile.
After our visit to the barn, I figured she was cured. That she would go back to her home and go, buy an older horse, so that she could again have that love of horses that we shared all those years ago. To my sad dismay that never happened. My Mother finally explained to me that she had a fear so deep inside her that the thought of going near horses, would cause her body to tremble. She said to me,”Wanda, if you have never been near death like I have been, then you have no idea how it feels to try and overcome a fear that resonates within every fibre of your being.” I responded by saying, “But what about Bandit? You were petting him and he was nuzzling right into you. You actually looked like you were in your thirties again. You looked so happy!”
She then responded with this answer. “It has been over 20 years since my accident. I have let the fear win over me for too many years now. Because I am now in my late fifties, I am now past the point of being able to or wanting to get back into horses. I know how fast they react and my reflexes are not like they used to be. Bandit was different because he is an old soul like me. He doesn’t move as fast either and we understood each other. I felt safe with him as he leaned over to me from his stall. He knew my story and was able to go past it and reach out to me. I accepted him and for an instant, eye to eye, we looked into each other’s souls and I knew that that would be my last moment with a horse. I will have that memory forever and it is so much better than the last memory I had.”
It became clear to me when my Mother told me this that the saying “Get right back up in that saddle" is so true!
So now I have made goals to ensure I help people past the fears in their lives. There is a real need for people to learn how to own their fears and let it go and live in the present. My Mother has taught me that to live in the present is to change a memory of the past to a memory of the present. I was just unfortunately too late to realize that with my mother until it was too late. She will say otherwise because she does still have her new memory of her last encounter with a horse.
