Relative Something

More than six inches of rain caused flooding in New York City yesterday. Our property was surrounded by massive lightning-filled blobs on radar but the areas of greatest intensity just missed our exact location. At sunrise, when I would normally be walking Asher and tending to the horses, dramatic rain and thunder were peaking in intensity.

When I finally ventured out between the waves of rain, I found the horses squeezed under one side of the overhang, understandably jumpy. The roar on the metal roof when precipitation is heavy amps up the drama factor considerably.

As I made my way cautiously around and between the frequently rearranging foursome to clean up manure, the threat of potential calamity was noticeably increased. Avoiding an unfortunate issue relies on luck as much as intelligent decision-making.

As far as I can tell, the horses weren’t aware of the flooding in New York. They don’t know that the dysfunction of elected officials in the U.S. Government is once again threatening a shutdown of our federal workers. They have no idea that health insurance premiums continue to climb out of balance with individual incomes. (Cyndie moved to Medicare this year leaving me alone on our previous plan. The cost for one person [me] went UP! when she was removed.)

The horses are masters of dealing with the immediate moment and their immediate surroundings. I find it wonderfully soothing to clear my mind of the calamities playing out in the world and pause my activities to stand with the herd to feel their energy, even when that energy is one of heightened alert.

Nothing else matters.

The moment the weather calms, the horses do the same.

I met with some precious luck yesterday afternoon after a slip of footing provided a mental flash of a possible worst outcome which did not materialize.

Asher was making a sudden turn toward a recently placed rodent control station that I wanted to clearly train him was “off-limits.” My hasty reaction led to a step with too much momentum onto a surprisingly slippery rock surface. That fraction-of-a-second thought process recognized I was going down and the destination was covered with many bigger rocks.

Face first was guaranteed calamity. Out shot my right arm and my hand landed incredibly hard. The dog still needed attention and I ignored the pain to deal with him. A moment later I was left trying to assess what bones in my hand and wrist were at risk of fracture.

Cyndie was up at the lake and I was home alone. This was not a good time to need medical treatment.

Fingers all moved. Wrist flexed. Ice controlled swelling. Final assessment: a wicked bruise.

Calamity averted.

This morning, returning to the house after walking through the woods with Asher, I found the rodent control station (which had been secured in place with a 10-inch stake) lying in the middle of the front yard. He obviously had beat me back to the house.

More training will be required.

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