Mowgli

Recently, I lost a dear friend to a rare liver disease. He was only 10 years old. He was strong, athletic, silly, friendly, tender-hearted, and such a very warm soul. I loved him dearly. He was my favorite horse…

My good friend and riding teacher, Kathleen, was the proud owner of Pray Some Mo’ (a.k.a. Mowgli) an OTTB (off the track thoroughbred) that won the hearts of so many with his powerful athleticism and his amazingly sweet, SWEET demeanor. I had the privilege of riding him on and off for the past four years, and my heart will never the be the same. He changed me.

I have written about my experiences with horses in a couple of other blogs, but this post is different. My time on Mowgli made me a better rider and equestrian, there’s no doubt about that. However, I am wanting to share more about how he made me a better HUMAN. As I mentioned…he changed me. Horses are prey animals. They are always “on guard”. Their senses are constantly heightened, making them ultra sensitive and keenly aware of their surroundings at virtually all times. When we allow these magnificent creatures to share their souls with us, we too become more self-aware. This, in turn, allows one to become better apt at communicating and working well with others. Mowgli taught me this and so much more. From patience and humbleness, to listening and focusing, this horse was the teacher of all teachers. 

I remember the very first time I rode him. Basically, I just tried to stay on. To say the least, he was ready to go! I was still a VERY green rider, but Kathleen trusted me to hop on and do my best with her guidance. He was what we call, in the equestrian world, “hot”, and he was excited to get moving! (After all, he was a retired racehorse!) I felt a little afraid, yet also instantly sensed that this guy was different. He needed me to trust him. I was nervous, and wasn’t sure I could do that. But…bless…his…heart… There was not an unkind bone in his enormous body. We did great. We stuck with it. And soon, I would learn to trust him more and more. 

Over time, and after many hours of training, Mowgli became more of a partner to me when I was in the saddle. Kathleen shared him with many riders, and I was so honored to have had the chance to be one of those companions. After my lessons I would often feel exhausted and overwhelmed. Yet, his eyes (his big, beautiful, chocolate brown eyes) calmed me instantly. I felt him expressing care and concern for me. Many times he was antsy, and raring to go, and it was only when I learned to use my breath and will power to calm MYSELF that he, too would follow suit. I believe horses are the biggest empaths on this earth. Mowgli taught me that it’s ok to take pauses…it’s okay to take a breath. If I matched his energy when he was in a heightened state, he would soon be running around like a llama (as Kathleen would say) and we did not (in fact, we could not!) find any connection—making for a very unpleasant ride. She would tell me “if you get into a tug of war contest, he will ALWAYS win”. It was only when I seemed to let go of control, and try to meet him where he was at did I find harmony. Letting my guard down, and just trusting the learning process made me able to adapt, settle in, and stay focused. 

I feel like these lessons on Mowgli have carried over into my life. I am a fighter. I don’t like to lose (yup! I’ve written a whole thing about that topic too) Yet, the more I tend to push in on things that either aren’t going my way, or aren’t going as expected, the more difficult the situation becomes. I’m learning to “let go of the reins” a bit, thanks to Mowgli. I am working so hard on not controlling the things I simply cannot control. As a yoga teacher, I am forever reminding my students to stay in the present moment. When riding (especially on Mowgli) I had to work really hard on this. He would notice even for a split second if I lost focus or concentration. He kept me grounded and present. On the flip side, I realized that I simply could not give up. Even when I wanted to. Even when riding him was challenging. When I wanted to give up on my sitting trot, a 20 meter circle, or even just a straight line of walking down the center of the arena, I knew I couldn’t do that to Mowgli. I could not—would not—quit. He needed me to do my job, so that he could do his. I learned from him that when things in my life are difficult and hard, I have more strength than I thought. I’m able to recollect the fact that I NEVER gave up on that big, beautiful gelding because he needed me. He needed me to listen to him. He needed me to be his partner. He needed me to trust him. I am reminded that the people in my life need this from me too. I’m striving to be a better listener, friend, partner, and parent. I’m working on trust. 

Mo-Mo, If I could talk to you now, this is what I’d say. You carried me over jumps and built my confidence up. I learned my first SUCCESSFUL canter on you (meaning I had steering—not just staying on!) I fell off of you, only to rip a big ole hole in the seat of my breeches, and take a shot to my ego. But, there was no harm done, and you felt so bad. I could tell. In fact, unlike a previous fall I’d taken off of a different horse a while back, WE learned from this. We grew in our connection because of it. We worked through your “cold back” starts, of which I’m so thankful you stayed patient and trusting. Amongst your head bobbing in the cross ties, you allowed me to groom you (something that your sensitive skin wasn’t a fan of). Yet, you tolerated it, and soon grew to even enjoy it on occasion. I rode in my first jumping show with you. I miss your big, gorgeous eyes that said so much. Looking into those beauties was like looking directly into your soul. You told me so much when I allowed myself to listen. I wish I could see your gorgeous head leaning over the stall doorway waiting to greet anyone and everyone who came to the barn. Just like my golden retriever, Charley, who I lost just a few months ago, you had a sensitive and empathetic nature that allowed everyone to feel like your best friend in your presence. I’m sad that I didn’t get more time with you. My heart hurts for your mama, and the rest of your human and barn families. I’m so sorry we never got to do a cross country adventure together…I would’ve loved that with you. But I KNOW, and can find joy in the thought, that right now you are in a wide open field running and jumping around, over, and through anything that you want. You are free. You are wild. You are loved and you are missed.