I'm ready for a restart now

I recruited the husband's help, and cleaned the entire apartment tonight. It was amazingly de-stressing, to conclude my week from hell. Early this evening, I had my meltdown that I needed to get out of the way, that I'd been seeing coming for a few days. I didn't even go riding today as I'd planned. I was exhausted, so exhausted, physically and mentally worn down to the core. This mother of cats could really use a vacation, preferably some time soon.

Wednesday afternoon I had to take Angela to the vet's, and I ended up having to miss ashtanga yoga class because of how long it took. For the second week in a row, I didn't go to ashtanga yoga, which I wanted to kick myself and everything else for. An overnight stay in the hospital, 2 enemas, and more than $300 later, my poor little girl was able to come back home Thursday evening. So now, Angela is on medications twice a day for constipation, and Adina is on medications twice a day for asthma (the result of her full x-ray reading in a nutshell, basically). Trust me, it's not pleasant for all involved. This morning, I also discovered alarming signs of potential constipation in Emma's litter box contents, so I began giving her Lactulose as well. I'm now deeply regretting changing their kibbles, thinking I was doing them a favor by scoring a better brand on sale. Deal or no, I still paid a good amount of money for the current bucket full, so I'm going to have them finish it, and then we're going back to what they were eating before, and I'll never feed them this food again, or change their food at all again for the matter, even though they had never had a problem with any of that before. Canned cat food, canned pumpkin, and Lactulose are going to be well stocked, and I'm also going to give homemade food one more try.

One thing for sure: after having had to take 3 cats to the vet's this week, I don't even want to look at our bank account right now. Let's just say that I'll be very glad on the day when I have a job again.

On one positive note, Candy and I had an awesome lesson Thursday morning. It was hot, and we both broke out some serious sweat, but we had a great time. I think Candy had more fun than I did even. How amazing it feels to be really jumping again, to be regaining my courage and confidence, to feel the leap, to have that adrenaline rush and sense of exhilaration that I can't obtain from anything else, and to remember exactly why I love it so much! Candy was so happy to be doing real jumps again, she couldn't stop snorting and bouncing near the end. What a silly pony! Karly was pleased with our progress, and I was more than glad to be fully back into commission on horseback. I couldn't stand being injured for any longer.

On another positive note, today I got an email from the ASPCA, notifying me that I'm one of the lucky winners of Jackson Galaxy's #MyRescueCat contest. That kind of made my day. Whatever might be in the $75 worth prize packet, I'm sure the kids will love them. We're all eagerly waiting for the package's arrival! It's always a good feeling to win something, especially when it's for the kids.

I am determined to go to 2 vinyasa yoga classes this weekend. Maybe even ride at least once. New month tomorrow, and I'm ready for another new start. I'm also determined to take a deep breath, and tell myself one more time that I am a strong person, that I will continue to be strong, and stronger. My kids are depending on me to be strong for them. Candy also needs me to be strong for and with her. I have so much to give, so much to share. I must keep in mind and always remind myself to have patience, faith, and positivity. Hard times pass. Things don't stay difficult forever. This, too, will become the past soon, and I shall come out stronger and a better person. As always, look on the bright sides of things, and never stray from gratitude's company. Everything will be right in time. 

Also, thanks to Katy Perry for my mother of cats theme song! 

Just recounting the last few days

There's a few things going through my head right now.

First of all, rest in peace, Cecil the lion, beautiful creature that he was. May justice be served soon, and that he did not die in vain. May karma unleash its wrath in the most severe form on that pathetic low life scum excuse of a human being, who deserves nothing less than the same fate. May Mother Earth and all the gods look after Cecil in the afterlife. May he be happy where he is now, knowing that he is loved, and that he will be avenged. You are greatly missed, Cecil!

Second of all, Adina, my first and oldest, my precious baby girl, went to the vet this morning for prolonged coughing and wheezing, and it's looking very likely that she has asthma. We should have a definite answer tomorrow, after a radiologist fully analyzes her chest x-rays for a diagnosis, and then we can discuss a treatment plan. We're convinced that excessive ingestion of fur from years of compulsive over-grooming is the underlying culprit for any pulmonary irritation in her system. I'm also beyond relieved that there are now better treatment options for a chronically neurotic/anxious cat. I look forward to proceeding, after all these years of having tried everything I could think of and nothing working.

Linus, my foster son, somehow ended up with a case of tapeworms. I shoved 2 deworming pills down his throat yesterday, as soon as I could get my hands on them, which should've done their job by now. How an exclusively indoor cat managed to get internal parasites is beyond me, unless he brought them with him when he first moved in with us at the end of March from the shelter situation where he had resided for a long time, and the worm segments just didn't show themselves in his poop until now. Anyway, I'm happy to have gotten that taken care of. Gross to say the least. Good thing I examine the contents of the litter boxes every time before I scoop them out. I don't even want to go into the laundry list of Linus's chronic health problems, for thinking about them at all makes me want to hurl something across the room. I've not only been frustrated with said health problems, but also at the rescue group for their continued oversight and lack of organization. I just made the call and broke up with Linus's very unhelpful former vet clinic, the details of which I also don't wish to repeat, for they actually gave me a real headache yesterday. I'm grateful that I can be the one to put him in better hands, because he's under my care and I'm responsible for his well-being. He went to our vet clinic with Adina this morning. He's fine at least for the time being. And I'm not going to end my pestering until he gets everything he needs.

Third of all, we went to look at more houses this evening. The trip was a fruitful one, for we found a house that we both really like that we would like to look into further and keep track of. Our goal for now is to have a house bought and ready to move into before our current apartment lease ends next year. Not going to lie, I can't wait to become a home owner. I'm tired of apartments already. I want a house of my own, a bigger space for us and the kids, and a nice place where we can comfortably accomodate a dog, which we want to adopt as soon as we acquire such.

Fourth of all, this past Sunday Ezra and I had another great time visiting our friends the Baltzes in Dover, DE. Some of our best friends that we had made in Japan, one good thing that the military had given us. However, what I did discover was that apparently, 3 years of living on a subtropical island has turned me into a vampire. A few hours in the sun on a beach was more than enough to make me sun sick. So, that weirdo you might see walking around carrying a little green sun umbrella, that would be me from now on. I had to cancel my riding lesson on Monday, to my great disappointment, because I was feeling so rotten from heat exhaustion. But, at least I'll have my lesson this week on Thursday. I'm in much need of guidance from Karly after my most recent incident involving a fall and a run over. 

Tomorrow, yoga classes shall resume for me. Hurray! 

Don't forget to have fun

I know I said that I wouldn't ride until after this week is over, but I went riding this evening, because I really, really wanted to. I compromised by wearing my watch to time myself, cutting off at exactly 30 minutes after I got on. I've come to realize that there's never a need to ride myself into a pulp and then barely able to walk the next day with muscle fatigue. That kind of defeats the whole purpose of riding for me. As long as I ride, ride often, and have fun, that's what matters to me. What's the point of doing it all the time if I don't enjoy it every time? Having fun is the most important part!

Candy and I had a great time. It was a wonderful ride. We did some good work, with me feeling confident that we're ready for our next lesson on Monday. I mostly drilled on our flat work, patiently practicing different transitions and lateral moves. We both needed the exercise after a week off. We ended on a good note with only 3 jumps. Ok, granted, the last jump was a bit of a big crossrail, which Candy made a big leap over that made me go "woot!" afterwards. 

I'm feeling pretty good now after my ride. I'm not even as sore as I thought I'd be. But then again, I paced myself for that reason. No need to overdo it and risk pushing my still recovering system beyond the "I'll be fine" line into the "I'll have to crash and restart again" territory. Candy and I did well, and it was enough. My shattered pride was mostly mended. Most importantly, we both had fun. I can do this. We can do this. I know it! It's not going to happen overnight, but we will get there. All good things take time, and we are in no rush for anything, at all.

I think I'm making significant progress with unconditioning Candy from her bit over-sensitivity. She's getting over her mouth contact avoidance that had very unfortunately resulted from having had her mouth pulled on way too much by a young student who rode her a long while back. Yeah, as awesome as Candy is, she's just not lesson horse material. I think she's starting to become more and more sure each time that when I try to increase contact, I'm only either trying to steer better or set a different pace, that I'm not trying to yank on her mouth. If old habits of mine set in with my hands, she reminds me with a head shake, and I adjust my hold on the reins immediately. We're starting to understand each other and communicate well. With our consistent schooling, Candy is also starting to get all the over-excitement tendencies out of her system. When I first started riding her, she'd be fidgeting with anticipation and then all but sprint at a jump the moment she realized that I was going to let her take it. Her excitement and eagerness were palpable all over, finally having her old job back after too long loitering idle in a pasture, with no rider to do with her what she's been doing and thriving in for years. All her life she's been used to constant work in a hunter/jumper ring or on a cross country course, and that's what she was meant to spend her whole life doing. And it's what she still wants to do, for a long time to come. This is not a horse who can just hang out in a field, get fat, and be content with her life. She's just not ready for that yet at this point, despite her age. She's a horse who needs a job to be happy. A horse who gets impatient and restless as opposed to sluggish and slothful is certainly a huge change for me, after 3 years of riding half-dead zombies that I couldn't even use "lazy" to describe. Now, the signature excited head toss move is still there, but only at the very first jump. After that, she settles down. I can live with that. I'd much rather ride a horse whom I need to slow down than a horse who needs to be pushed and shoved just to go more forward, the latter kind of which was all I had access to while living in Japan, and I was long tired of it. I don't know if Candy was ever on the race track, but her Thoroughbred breeding is obvious. She's lighting fast with large strides, and she uses her speed and steps well. And she's so motivated and driven, which is what I love the most about her.

I look forward to our lesson with Karly on Monday. I'll be sure to go easy on myself. One thing is certain, that I improve every time I ride, that I get off of Candy a better rider with each lesson, each practice. And always, always remember to have fun, because it's supposed to be fun. I wouldn't be doing it if it weren't a fun thing for me to do. What's the best part of horseback riding? It's fun!

No time at the barn is wasted time

First of all, I can't help but wonder if there are sedatives in my new allergy serum. It's been making me want to sleep for 24 hours.

It kind of knocked out half of my day yesterday, but the second half of my day I had managed to make good use of. I finished my self-loathing challenge of reading Fifty Shades of Grey. Trust me, it took some time and effort. I'm trying to unshrink the neurons in my brain with the help of Emily Bronte now. Possibly adding a historical fiction novel about Queen Ankhesenamun of Egypt to my aid as well.

I did make it to the barn again yesterday evening. As expected, the time spent with Candy was much appreciated and treasured. I mixed her a salty snack of dry oatmeal and white salt, which she ate with some amount of confusion. Well, the recent heat waves and temperature fluctuations have gotten me a tad bit worried, so I figured, some extra electrolytes would do some good. I gave her another brush down, the usual hoof treatment, and spent more time working on those beautiful long locks that I adore. Leigh has told me that I'm more than welcome to pull or trim her mane. At first I thought it would be a good idea. At this point though, I think no way. It's just too beautiful, and I'm having too much fun taking care of it. Besides, she loves getting her hair brushed. She'd let me do it forever. It's almost like playing house with My Little Ponies, except the pony is real, and much, much bigger.

With the beauty treatment complete, I stood against the wooden fence, wanting to simply pet her and watch the sun go down with her. She stayed close to me, leaned her head against my torso, occasionally smacking her lips with content, and every now and then nuzzling me, while I scratched her neck and stroked her forehead. And I know even more now what this is all about, why I want to do this, why I need this in my life. Looking into her eyes, I know that she knows, too, and that she cares. My muse, my inspiration, my confidante as well. I don't care about competition, ribbons, and all that superficial stuff. This is what I care about. This is why I ride. This is why I have to have a horse to love.

Even though I do envy her for being more photogenic than I am. The beautiful mare in the setting sun. I pity anyone who can't perceive such beauty, such magnificence, such wonder of nature.

"It's not about the social accessories, the money, the ribbons. It's not about the winning. That comes easy. No, that comes easy. It's about the horse. How to care for the horse, how to ride the horse, and how to look after this great animal, the horse." - George Morris

I also need to mention that barn cats are awesome!

Progress

I went to the barn yesterday, although I left my boots at home to make sure that I wouldn't be too tempted to ride.

The day before, I had kept myself busy by cleaning/polishing my boots (which I hadn't done in months, terrible of me), washing my boot tote (for the first time since its acquisition more than a year ago), packing a new barn backpack (might as well put my not cheap L.L.Bean backpack to good use again now that it no longer has its original commission of being a school book bag), and organizing my DIY horse care kit. I also sorted through my riding clothes, sadly having to give up my purple Kerrits tights, which the ground and/or Candy's hooves had ripped holes through, and spandex just doesn't mend well. 

Candy looked happy to see me, and I perked up immediately upon seeing her face. Just being with her again made me feel better and less sad about not riding. I pampered her with a full body brush down, and then brushed her mane and tail until they glistened in the sunlight. I picked her hooves, and then sprayed them  thoroughly with apple cider vinegar. I put some more apple cider vinegar followed by M-T-G on her rain rot and girth itch spots, which looked to be mostly healed/scabbed over, thankfully. I followed Karly's advice, and put garlic juice into the bottle of fly spray, and it was sheer genius. As soon as I sprayed it on Candy, she stopped stomping flies. I did convince her to eat a little bit of minced garlic out of the jar, mixed with pieces of fresh carrots. Ok, it took some convincing, and I had to give her more treats afterwards. But a little bit is better than none. I just want to take better care of her, because she's my teammate, my partner working with me, and my friend.

I can't help it. I love this horse.

It was a lovely time, and I needed it. As I savored the hour of tranquility and solitude in the countryside, secluded and hidden from the hustle and bustle of the modern world and everyday life, with only my equine best friend for company, I began to realize, that I dare to dream. I looked into the arena, with its fences and poles, temporarily off limits to me for just a few more days, and knew that I dare to dream, dare to be, and dare to find my happy place. I know where I'm meant to be, I know where I want to be, I know where I'm the happiest, and I know where I'm in my element. Nothing can stop me; not a fall, not an injury, not anything.

Then came today, which started early, a stark contrast to the whole week since my fall from grace. I had to take a trip to University of Delaware in Newark to take the Praxis core writing exam, required for all potential teachers seeking certification in the state of Delaware. I feel pretty good about how I did, especially now that it's over with. One more thing that I had to get out of the way to clear my path of finding a real job in the fall, which I'm crossing my fingers to happen so that I can pay for my expensive hobbies with my own money, as opposed to shamelessly taking advantage of my husband's hard earned paychecks that already have to cover our too many bills each month. The test was finished early enough that I was able to stop by my allergist's office for my weekly allergy shots during their morning hours on my way home. A brand new batch of serum has just been made for me this week, and my dosage has been increased again. I swung by Tractor Supply Co, bought saddle soap and work gloves for me, a squeegee and bag of peppermint flavored treats for Candy. Later in the day, I made a trip to Food Lion, got a watermelon for me, and two containers of salt for Candy. I felt greatly productive today, and then I had to crash for a nap right after dinner, which was beef burgundy that was prepared last night and put into the slow cooker this morning. The weather today was beautiful, by the way. Perfect for being outdoors, after several days of unbearable sweltering heat. And it killed me that I couldn't go for a ride.

I'm glad to be feeling better. I have some fun plans made for tomorrow, just for me, which includes another trip to the barn in the evening!

Breathe, and shake it off

As I've mentioned before, I'm not someone who handles being injured well. I don't handle being housebound and forced into rest time either. But I've been doing my best, and I think I'm getting better. After all, why fight a battle that I already know I can't win? Your body will only take you fudging with it for so long, and it has more than a few creative tricks for forcing your brain into submission.

My patience has been even further tested with an outbreak of upset stomachs in my household, among all the cats. Maybe it's a bug, or maybe it's the different food that we gave them. I don't think I even want to know or care. All I know is that since last night, I've been picking up piles of vomit from the carpet, as well as cleaning out pile after pile of stinky, runny, mushy poo from every single litter box, which I'd had to first bury and then let sit to dry for a while before they were even scoopable. This morning, the first thing I did was scrubbing diarrhea off the carpet, and trust me, it wasn't a little bit either. And in my weakened physical state, I'm much much less able to withstand stench and gross. It was as if everywhere I looked, there were things for me to do, things that my body isn't up for doing, things that I don't want to do, things that still need to be done, adding onto themselves and taunting me. And I so wanted to get out of the house sooner. I wanted to go to the barn and spend some time with Candy. I've been missing my equine best friend and needing horse time, ironic as that might sound. I wanted to comfort her more and take care of her, give her the TLC that she would otherwise be missing from my prolonged absence, soak her hooves, feed her apples, brush out her mane and tail, check on her rain rot spots and girth itches. This not being able to set foot outside my apartment without running out of breath within minutes has been driving me up every wall imaginable. On top of Ezra having been sick with a cold since the day of my accident as well, and him still having to go to work during the day and thus leaving me home alone, fending for myself, with a bunch of cats barfing and crapping up the whole place, I was worn thin. My most hated feeling in the world of helplessness began creeping up and lifting its pathetic little head, and I nearly broke down and cried again.

And then, it hit me. I remembered to breathe, and told myself to do so. 

So I breathed, and breathed, and breathed some more. I cleaned up the best I could, knowing I did my best. I turned on all the Scentsy warmers and let the aroma of melted wax slowly permeate the apartment, gradually filtering out the smell of poo. I heated up some leftovers for lunch, ate, and let the food settle in my stomach. I then filled the cats' bowls with their lunch. I sat down in front of the computer, opened my music folder, and put on Taylor Swift's "1989". 

Shake it off. Keep breathing. Shake it off. It'll be all right. Everything will turn out fine. Breathe, be patient, calm down. I will get better, so will the cats, and Ezra, too.

I resigned myself to stay at home and take it easy for another full day today, hoping to regain more energy to stop by the barn tomorrow. Pushing myself never worked in the past, so I'm trying a different approach this time, all the while remembering to breathe, and shake it off. This is me being considerate and kind to myself, loving and respecting my body. Breathe, shake it off.

Thank you, Taylor, for my fight song, by the way!

Recovery

Of everyone I know, I'm just about the worst when it comes to injury recovery time.

It's not that I'm just stubborn. Ok, I am pretty stubborn. But that's not all there is to it. It's simply that the idea of rest and recuperation seem to simply not click with my brain. That one part of my self-preservation instinct might be faultily wired.

This might not come as basic knowledge to everyone. After a relatively traumatic experience, it's not the day of nor the day after that you really begin to feel it. It's the third day, well after your body has registered and processed the shock, followed by the eradication of any remaining doubt. If you might feel like it's not too bad on the first two days, don't get ahead of yourself. Wait till the third day. Then you know for sure.

My day 3 was enough to make me cry. I always want to think of myself as a durable human being, grated stronger by years of hardship, and then indestructible by more years of physical and mental strength building on top. There's nothing I can't stand more than feeling helpless. It simply feels too unreal, too ridiculous, and too unacceptable to me. It's all too easy to spiral into a vicious circle: the more I feel like I can't do something, the more I want to do it, while ignoring the fact that the more my body tells me that I can't do something while it's hurt probably means the more I shouldn't do it. I find it nearly impossible to just wait it out, until I'm clearly ready to go again. You'd have better luck at keeping a 5-year-old still until an injury completely heals. At least with a 5-year-old, you might be able to BS a little and scare her into acquiescence. When it comes to my own body, as an adult, not many things scare me these days, and that's not exactly a good thing.

I can't stand being idle. More so when it seems as if I have no choice but to be idle. Not doing anything for an extended period of time drives me up the wall, and it's only worse when it appears as though I have no other options. I've always been a fixer, a caretaker, and the constant sense of responsibility doesn't go away when I'm injured. The worst part is that the more I'm told that I shouldn't be doing anything, the more I seem to want to challenge that very concept and then end up pushing myself too hard. Like, Friday night, just 24 hours after falling from and then getting run over by a horse, I decided that I was feeling better, and that I was bored and restless to the point of having to do something. Despite having been "forbidden" to do housework by my husband, I insisted on cleaning the kitchen. And then yesterday, once again I refused to let anything get in my way, and just had to clean the kitchen some more and then make dessert after dinner. Well, all good, until today, when I crashed. You'd think I would've learned my lessons from long ago, because this sure isn't the first time I've gotten hurt pretty badly. Nope. Not even close. Because I'm stubborn, remember?

And I felt it all too keenly today. I felt so beaten, so exhausted, it was as if I couldn't sleep enough. My body has flipped the switch and decided in no time that enough is enough. If my brain wasn't going to be rational enough to give it a rest, my body was going to take extreme measures and force my brain to concede and back down. So I cried, out of sheer frustration at being incapacitated, at not being able to get a hug from my husband without wincing and having to relocate his hands, at not being able to complete even the smallest tasks without running out of breath. I've been trying so hard to tough it out, to refuse to admit exactly how much pain and discomfort I've been in, and to not blame my body for just how little trauma it can handle before it full on shuts off on me. I so desperately wanted to get back onto the horse and back into the yoga studio this coming week, yet my bruised ribs and damaged muscles started all but screaming, "not happening, you nutcase!" And you know what? It pissed me off to no ends. It pissed me off that I was hurting more, and therefore, I couldn't do things even more. I couldn't stand feeling that way.

Whatever happened to ahimsa? Did I just all of a sudden, forget all about the whole concept of being nice to myself and not punishing my body?

I admitted defeat, allowed Ezra to make dinner and then do all the cleaning up afterwards. I willingly let Ezra do things for me and help me with everything without protest. It took yet another hard lesson for me to accept a simple truth: we are human beings made of flesh and blood, and our bodies come with limitations and clear boundaries. It does't mean we're weak. It just means that we need a break when we need to, and that when our bodies tell us so, we need to listen and agree. Pushing ourselves too far, too hard, too soon will only mean a longer wait to get better. Ignoring your body's messages when it's flashing red lights and sounding the warning buzzers at you is not being tough. It's being unwise and neglecting your health. I'm taking at least this whole week off from riding and yoga, and I'm going to pay attention to how I actually feel, not how I want to feel, before I resume my regular routine of activities.

And since I got some downtime on my hands, I discovered this little gem, which gave me some good giggles (hey, laughter is a good medicine, right?) and made me feel slightly better: What would George say?

Yes, even Olympic riders fall off. Top professional riders, to this day, decades into their grand prix careers, still have moments that make people go "dude, what the &%^#* are you doing there? I thought you learned this crap 20 years ago!" We are all human. We all have bad days. We all have our "oh shit" moments, and some of which take slightly longer than others to recover from. It doesn't mean anything more than the mere fact that we are human beings, with human bodies and human minds, which sometimes, make mistakes, feel tired, get hurt, or need rests.

Love, me

Articles like these have gotten me thinking a lot:
I'm overweight... but that doesn't give you the right to be rude 
How can we talk about healthy body image in the yoga community? 

At the age of 28 and standing 5'8'', I'm now feeling my best and healthiest ever weighing at 140 pounds, and I have never weighed more in my whole life. After many years of battling various health problems, I'm happy to say that at last, I'm at a point of feeling my own strength, endurance, stamina, energy, and fitness. I'm proud to say that I'm a woman who feels 100% confident in her own skin, who loves her own body, and who's happy with how she looks, with or without makeup on, naked or fully clad. I live an active lifestyle, involving 6 days a week of horseback riding and yoga. I eat well, though the word "diet" has never been in my vocabulary. No, I'm not "ripped". I don't currently have the most flat abs or the most muscular arms. I have a belly pooch, and my thighs touch. But guess what? I'm fine with them. They don't bother me. Nothing about my physical shape and form bother me. I'm proud of what my body is capable of. Everyday I feel its power increasing with my hard work and determination. I want to continue making my body healthier and stronger because I love and respect it. I want to always make it better and feel better in it, because it's mine, and the only one I'll ever have.

In the past and recently even, I've often been complicated on my height and build. I've always been tall and lean. I've never had a weight problem. I've been blessed with good genetics, topped with good living habits. So, I've been told on numerous occasions, that I "look" like someone who rides horses and/or does yoga. I've been told that I'm envied for my long legs and slim waist. I've been told that people can look at me and know that I work out a lot. I've been told that I look great.

Ok, I can't say I haven't felt flattered by compliments on how I look. I can't say it doesn't put a smile on my face when I hear others say that I'm a beautiful woman. After all, I've worked hard and sweated hard, and who doesn't want the fruits of their labors acknowledged and praised? But the other side to this coin is also the realization that I have, through nothing of my own intention, fallen into a very specific category of our modern society. Living in today's world, in a developed western country, among the middle class, I'm all too aware of the fact that so, so many women who are my age, younger, and older would dream of looking like me, who wish they had bodies that were like mine. I realize that often times, I'm not the only one who's hearing the compliments directed at me.

There are other women around me who are looking at me and listening to what's being said about me. And there are no doubts in my mind that it's only become more and more increasingly difficult to eliminate body image issues among American women in the 21st century.

I'd be the biggest, fattest liar if I were to say that I myself have never fallen into the traps of our society's unrealistic standards of beauty and its quixotic examples of the "perfect" female body that are practically impossible for a human being to achieve. Yes, I have stared at the beautifully toned bodies of my yoga teachers, the results of years upon years of consistent yoga practices, and felt green with envy. I have heard my inner voice telling me that I wanted their arms, their legs, their abs. I have felt like an elephant sulking on the floor while watching them so effortlessly lifting themselves up into arm balance inversions.

I wonder if the women who are on the side of "larger sized", who always tend to go for spots in the back of the yoga studio, would look at me in the front and think the same things. Mind you, I like being in the front because I want to be able to see the teacher better, due to my bad eyes despite glasses/contacts. I don't go for the front in every class to show off.

What I want every woman to know, is that whereas we may all be society's superficial targets, we are who we are and we ought to be proud of it. We may all be at risk of falling victims to society's pressures that are plastered all over our TV screens, news stands, magazine racks, and billboards, but nothing can take away from us what we truly feel about ourselves on the inside. We are more than what the eyes can see. We are more than what our world wants to compare us to. We are more than what the media thinks we should look like. We are all amazing in our own ways. If at any point in our days, do we feel any sense of insecurity and shame about our bodies, because it's what our day and age have unfortunately conditioned us for in this life, let's tell ourselves that it's ok, that we are but human, that there's a reason for us to feel this way, and that we should be aware of it, and then let it pass.

There's no doubt that yoga is on the rise as one of the latest fitness trends for weight loss and body toning, thanks to the growing number of Hollywood stars and models who have discovered it and are now promoting it higher and higher as a holy grail for looking and feeling better. Renowned yogis are reaching celebrity status. Yoga is all a sudden not a hippie pastime but a hot sport. Yoga is now almost something that the cool kids all want to try nowadays. Well, far from the whole point of yoga, if you ask me. I, for one, don't do yoga to lose weight, because I don't feel the need to lose any weight. And the original and comprehensive purpose of yoga has nothing to do with making your body Maxim cover ready. I'm not saying, if you want to work on being healthier and shedding a few extra unhealthy pounds, that you shouldn't try yoga to do so. I'm not saying that yoga isn't an effective and healthy tool for weight loss. I'm saying, don't look at me and think, "wow, she's so skinny, I wonder how long she's been doing yoga?"

What I want, is for more women, of all shapes and sizes, to think like I do: "I am beautiful. I am good. I am enough. I am working hard. I will always be better. I can improve. I am awesome. I love myself." On horseback or in the yoga studio, it's what I endeavor to be, a positive image for confidence and self-esteem, for feeling secure and happy about one's own body in every way possible. No one has to be perfect. No one has to look like a Playboy centerfold to feel the best about oneself. We are different for a reason, and we should never have to strive for all looking the same. 

Be yourself, and be proud of it. Love who you are and what you can do. Kindness to oneself, kindness to the world. Namaste.

Ahimsa

The Indian sage Patanjali outlined eight aspects, or "limbs", of spiritual yogic practice in his renowned Yoga Sutras. The first of these eight limbs of yoga is yama, or moral codes. The first of the five aspects of yama is ahimsa, or nonviolence.

The practice of non-violence/non-harm extends not only to all living creatures of this earth. It applies, first and foremost, to ourselves.

As a dedicated new student of ashtanga yoga, which incorporates the eight limbs of yoga into every aspect of its regular practice, I find the concept of ahimsa to be particular inspiring. Tracy, my ashtanga yoga teacher, whose compliments on my progress at the end of class this week have given me a major confidence boost, has aroused my awareness of ahimsa since I started taking her new class in the beginning of this month. "Be kind to yourself", she would say, "be nice to your body during your practice. Understand its limitations. Allow it time and space to grow and improve."

Remembering my old days of ballet, when I would practically beat my body parts into submission and force them into the seemingly impossible positions by whatever measures necessary, yoga is just about the polar opposite.

It's one of the many reasons why I love yoga so much.

When I get onto my mat, I remind myself of ahimsa. Peace, love, kindness, gentleness, non-violence. I will tell myself, at each practice, that if I can't manage a certain pose, it is ok. I will do my best, and I will stop when I need to. I will listen to what my body tells me, and I will be mindful of its messages. I will respect my body for what it can do, and forgive it for what it cannot yet do. I will give myself, my being, the time it needs to develop, strengthen, and be better. 

Ahimsa embodies all facets of life. While practicing ahimsa toward the other living beings around us, we must not, at any time, forget our own selves.

Taking my fall from horseback yesterday into consideration, I must remember to not only give my body the time to recover and heal, but also give my mind the ease of knowing that it meant nothing more than an accident. It does not mean that I'm a bad rider. It does not mean that I'm incompetent on horseback because I fell off, again. It simply means that I had an accident, no more and no less. Riders who are 20 plus years into their careers still fall, and riders who are much older with much more time in the saddle than I do have their fair shares of falling stories to tell, from bad to worse.

Ahimsa. It is for all of us; our lives, our bodies, our minds. Kind to others, kind to ourselves, always, in every way. Peace in oneself, peace in the world.

“Ahimsa is the attribute of the soul, and therefore, to be practiced by everybody in all affairs of life. If it cannot be practiced in all departments, it has no practical value.” - Mahatma Gandhi

The awakening

I might've gotten a wake up call yesterday, or at least a reminder, of just how dangerous this sport that I have chosen to be in can be, how something can go terribly wrong before I'm even aware of it. That ought to teach me to not get full of myself and lower my guard.

I got a few rounds of good canter in, during which I was practicing my light seat, and did well. I also came off of a couple of good jumps, during which I practiced my release, and did well. Then I got complacent, and that was a mistake.

A horse spooking in the middle of a turn is one of the worst times for a rider, in my personal opinion. Snapping from a left turn into a right turn in one split second, physics just wasn't on my side. My body couldn't catch up to the sudden change in momentum. I always wonder how evolution managed to make us humans into the most highly developed species on this planet, and yet equipped us with the worst reflexes and the slowest reaction times. We absolutely suck at adjusting our bodies fast enough to match time and space around us, if you ask me.

My hands managed to get tangled in the reins on my way down, and I hit the ground beneath Candy's belly, in between her legs. Already spooked by whatever she saw/heard, and then shocked by my fall, she couldn't get away from me without literally tripping over me. In my panic and with everything happening too fast for my fight/flight response to register, I did manage to remember to curl myself up as much as I could manage, and shield my face with my arms. Despite all her efforts to land her feet around to avoid me, I still got a few solid hooves on me, and trust me when I say, I had felt each and every one of those hooves' impact on my body. Miraculously, my glasses, which had fallen from my face, survived intact. My schooling helmet wasn't so lucky. It was dented enough that I had to say good-bye to it for good.

A part of me had wished that Ezra was there to help me. Another part of me was relieved that he wasn't there to watch the whole thing. He would've freaked out beyond epically. The over-protective husband gear would've been pushed into full speed. He might've been furious at Candy.

All in all, I came out of this with a black eye, bruised ribs, a nasty scrape on my left side, a very sore lower back, aching tail bone and seat bones, whiplash, and stiff limbs. Nothing broke, no major trauma. I got lucky. After being trampled by an animal ten times my size, with rock hard hooves, two of which are steel shod, I was able to stand up on my own and walk away. It was an awakening. We experienced riders might get to a point in our lives when we tend to think that we have gotten pretty good at controlling a 1,200-pound beast and become complacent with our abilities to do so consistently. We ought not forget, at any time, that said beast is a very large and heavy prey animal who will always choose flight over fight at the slightest provocation that might be invisible to us, and that the graceful equine that we so often see easily flying over fences as tall as we are can also, without any warning, trip over its own feet or run from its own shadow.

I comforted Candy as much as I could afterwards. It was clear that she was upset about what happened. I hugged her, patted her, gently stroked her forehead and kissed her nose, reassuring her again and again that it wasn't her fault, that it was a freak accident that I was also responsible for, that I didn't blame her for something that she couldn't help, and that I wasn't one bit mad at her. Every fall is a lesson learned. I wasn't able to get back on after this one, but I had definitely learned something important from it. I didn't exactly choose badminton or table tennis for a pastime. Every time I put my rear end into a saddle, it could potentially mean my life on the line. I may allow myself to trust a very well trained and reliable horse just enough, but I should never lower my own defense and leave everything up to her. She is counting on me, her rider, the cognitively more advanced human to be there for her. I need to be someone whom she can depend on. I must never let down my guard again.