Feature Friday – “Unspoken Messages – Spiritual Lessons I Learned from Horses and Other Earthbound Souls” by Richard D. Rowland”

Howdy Folks,

The pigeon landed on the edge of the roof, its golden chest shimmered in the sun. Its eyes focused directly on Richard. Paying no interest to the other back yard guests, the stunning bird watched Richard’s every move for 2 hours with eyes that spoke only to him. “Before my eyes were opened to things like this, I would have thought something wrong with the bird and there was probably a scientific reason for its presence. Now I know differently.” Richard explains he was told God can send messengers in the form of animals. “Now I know this to be true.”

But he didn’t always. Richard, a retired Kentucky police officer and Vietnam Vet had lived most of his life in what he describes as a world of black and white. “I was hard headed, opinionated, absolutely sure of my place in this world, and convinced that science-based ideology was the only truth.”

That was before his journey. A journey that started only a few years ago. A journey guided by the hearts and wisdom of “horses and other earthbound souls.” A journey that carried Richard from where he was to the spiritual and believing person he is today.

Ingeniously he broke the story of his journey into 2 halves. The first half of the book is stories about horses, a few other animals, and people, whose lives and circumstances began to teach him to see beyond the vision of his eyes. From them he learned there are no coincidences, and how to see with his spirit.

You’ll meet Buffy and her foal Peanut, and witness a spiritual goodbye from the rest of the herd. Whiskers and Sarge will climb onto your lap, and into your heart. Pal, a horribly foundered Paso, will show you how his physical challenges helped Richard face his own terrible health scare. “I was able to apply what I learned from him to go forward myself.” You can visit Pal HERE on Facebook. “Pals page has become another medium for us to teach others that founder is not the end of a horse, and cancer can sometimes be treated with nutrition, and we need to move forward with humor and hope.”

 Pearl will trot of the pages to tug your heartstrings, and wet your eyes, as her story with many layers unfolds, and you meet all the people in her life. From her you’ll learn, “There are no coincidences.”

There are others you’ll meet too, who will become your friends, and perhaps your guides. Together you’ll share a few chuckles, tears and deep thoughts. As you read these stories, sometimes your mind will race ahead of the words on the page and, you’ll wonder, as I did, why is he telling this story? Why did he let this happen? Then you’ll realize it was necessary for us to feel the spiritual growth, just as Richard did.

Your journey will carry you from part one to part two with the wisdom and reassurance that “animals are old souls with deep and ancient abilities to communicate with us, if we let them.”

In part two Richard shows how people, and their loved ones, faced with life ending, or altering prognoses and challenges, can use that ancient wisdom, and the listening learned to explore new, AND ancient, paths, ideas modalities.

Richard was given a blunt prognoses on August 21, 2008, “You have a blood cancer called multiple myeloma, and it’s incurable.”

Of course at first he and his wife were devastated, terrified, angry and scared. Then they turned their focus toward determination, hope and dedication. Using some lessons learned from Pal, and the others, and guidance from his wife, who is a holistic nutritionist by training, they marched forward to meet the challenge.

Part two tells of their choices. How things worked for them. It is not a knock on Western medicine, though at some points it might feel like it. But just as with the stories in part one, some facts and thoughts had to be shared for the reader to fully understand the journey. The journey that led Richard to find balance.

Unspoken Messages” is at times happy, at times sad, but always touching. Richard invites you into his most private moments wrestling with confusion, enlightenment, joy and sorrow. I not only recommend it, but suggest "Unspoken Messages" be required reading in our High Schools.

Back Cover

Join Richard on Facebook HERE for the book. And HERE to become friends.

Gitty Up ~ Dutch Henry

"Snowy and Rainy Days"

Howdy Folks,

 

Snowy and rainy days have a different feel about them for me than clear sunny days. Of course all days are beautiful, for their own reasons, but the "bad weather days," as we called them on the dairy farm where I grew up as a foster kid, are extra special for me. To me, they are cozy.

As a kid we had plenty of work on those bright sunny days. I would be busy hoeing thistles in the corn field, picking beans in the garden, mending fence, thinning hedgerows, maybe carrying water for wash day, or any of the other many tasks needed to be done on the farm.

There was plenty of work on snowy and rainy days, too. We still had to milk the cows, tend the horses, pigs and chickens, but the in between time, those hours when we would do the extra work, were a bit more relaxed.

Our barn was big old Pennsylvania Bank Barn with the milking stable in the middle, flanked by horse stalls, each with the splendid wooden feed troughs and hay racks above them, and box stalls for young stock when they weren't out in pasture. Between the horse stalls and milking stable was our feed room. Along the back wall were wooden slant topped feed bins for the loose oats and corn for the horses. One of my jobs was to keep the bins full. Sacks of ground feed for the milking cows were stacked along the side wall. I can still smell the blackstrap molasses in that ground feed. I loved that smell! So did the mice!

This barn is very similar to the barn to the barn on the farm I grew up on.

Back then, burlap bags were really made of burlap and no match for the enterprising mice who made certain nearly every sack had a hole of their own design chewed through it. On bad weather days it was my job to hand stitch those holes closed with a long curved needle and white cord. Some days ol' Bill (the man who raised me) would join me in the stitchin' party and it was kind of fun gathering there, working a little and talking. I suppose it was our version of a quilting party. Whether Bill was with me or not, the horses and cows were, and it was cozy in that feed room, and sort of a day off. There were other bad weather day chores, but that feed room, between the horses and cows, stitching up those sacks, well that's my treasure.

For a long time now, bad weather days, have not had much to say about my daily duties, but often they'll carry me back to that cozy old feed room between the horses and cows. I suppose at a young age I was conditioned to the gentler feeling of rainy days.

The Coffee Clutch family enjoying this rainy morning.

As Kessy, Tigger, Saturday and I enjoyed Coffee Clutch this morning, rain danced lively on the tin roof. And while my routine won't be stirred, my memories were.

Gitty Up ~ Dutch Henry

"Why Do We Focus On Training?"

Howdy Folks,

 

Training, and trainers are of course important. To be fair many things must be taught, and learned, by both horse and person. Training is the backbone of so many of the disciplines folks pursue with their horses, from trail riding, western pleasure, showing, hunter jumper, dressage, and on and on. Sure we need to learn what we're doing. We and our horse, and that requires lessons, and training. Sometimes plenty of it.

I've heard it said every time you're on your horse you should be training. That's an interesting paradigm. I don't intend to take anything away from the importance, or benefits of training. But every time you're on your horse?

Over the years I've met folks who take lessons, and go to clinics all the time. I've met a folks who do nothing in between. They just go to clinics, and lessons. They may not ride for weeks, and sometimes, months at a time. Some folks board their horses at training barns, and only ride when it's time for the next lesson. And for them, that's perfect ... But what if it could be more perfect?

The Coffee Clutch. I start each day having coffee time with Kessy. Most days Saturday, Tigger & Miss Kitty join us.

I suggest folks can establish much deeper relationships with their horses by not always focusing on training. Mix in plenty of just being partners together time. For sure not everyone can start their day like I do having coffee in the barn with their horse. A lot of folks don't have the luxury of having their horses at home. If that's your sitution, be sure you spend time with your horse other than just showing up for lessons and training. They'll love you for it. Learn a few exercises you can do on the ground, even in the stall with your horse to help their posture and body carriage. You can see a few "Pre-Ride Exercises For Your Horse" in my blog that horses love, and greatly benefit from. And check out - "Reconnecting Your Horse To Her Feet"  to.

I believe all horses should have plenty of easy going, "don't think about nothin'," trail time. Just go down the trail, do some chatting with friends, or better yet, go alone. Just you and your horse. Don't forget to watch the birds!

The training will simply fall into place if you don't focus on it all the time. Just let it happen. Allowing yourself and your horse to work through mistakes in an unstructured moment is fun too. Let the mistakes happen and see where they lead you!  Enjoy your horse so she can enjoy you. And remember, find time for that relaxing trail time.

Kessy, Saturday and me hittin' the trail

Gitty Up ~ Dutch Henry

Feature Friday – "World Walking Horse Association"

Howdy Folks,

For decades our beloved Tennessee Walking Horse has been made to suffer horrible abuse called "Soring" at the hands of so-called trainers, to create unnatural and painful, leg and body action known as "Big Lick."  All in the name of winning money and ribbons. Even though there has been much public outcry and disgust regarding the inhumane treatment of these magnificent horses, the only United States registry for the TWH not only continues to allow, but supports the practice of soring by its actions of indifference, denial, and money. People who own TWHs had no choice but to register with that organization, even knowing some of their money may go to support Big Lick or even worse, someone with multiple Horse Protection Act violations. – Until now.

"In the fall of last year, Marty Irby voiced a dream that many have had. A Walking Horse breed registry that actively supported and promoted barefoot and flat-shod, natural, sound horses. Sara Livingston listened, and then stepped forward and planned, The World Walking Horse Association (WWHA). She's been the driving force in the creation and logistics of organizing the nonprofit. She is the behind-the-scenes powerhouse that runs WWHA," explained Mindy Lightner, VP of Communications.

 

Founded in 2013 the WWHA is indeed a breed association, and has as its mission to "record and preserve the pedigrees of the Walking Horse while maintaining the integrity of the breed, its versatility, and most importantly its inherently, natural, evenly timed, four beat walking gaits." And to among other things, "Promote the natural ability and gait of the barefoot and flat-shod horse by humane and classical training."

WWHA, as an organization is committed to the passage of the "Prevent All Soring Tactics Act" (PAST Act) – which would help eliminate soring. – The other, and until now the main Tennessee Walking Horse breed registry, came out in opposition of the PAST Act and even removed people from their organization who have supported its passage. Obviously continued horrendous torture of the horses they profess to "love, protect and support," is important to that other registry. As is the money they reap from the suffering of the voiceless horses.

"It's way past time to support and encourage sound horses, and put an end to the torture and suffering. Friends Of Sound Horses (FOSH),National Walking Horse Association (NWHA), and other competition organizations have spent years working their tails off to support and promote sound, barefoot and flat-shod gaited horses. Up until now, they have had to do that without the direct unconditional support of a sound, natural global breed association. We, (WWHA) are the final piece of the puzzle, or the final cog needed in the well oiled machine. 

The question really isn't 'why now?', the question is, 'why has it taken so long for this to happen'? Sound Natural Walking Horse owners deserve to believe that their money is being spent wisely for humane pursuits, and they deserve to be able to breed, show, and register their horses without worrying about unintentional support of Big Lick or Sore Horse programs," said Mindy.

Well said Mindy! Thank you, Marty, Sara, every member, and everyone at WWHA for all you are doing to provide a realistic alternative to a breed registry that publicly rationalizes torturing horses in its pursuit of dollars.

Friends, check out WWHA on the web www.worldwha.com  - And on Facebook (HERE)

Tell your friends, there is now a safe place for Tennessee Walking Horses.

Gitty Up ~ Dutch Henry

There Is More To Our Story

Howdy Folks,

With perked ears and sad eyes, Blackie watched as the truck drove away. Her long time friend, Chance called out in fear. Dust soon swallowed the trailer, but the whinnies continued. Blackie raced along the board fence, head held over the top board, running as fast as her old legs could manage. She answered the calls with all the breath she had, and ran faster, ever faster, but soon the truck and the whinnies were gone. Straining over the fence she looked far away, far into the setting sun where her friend had gone. Blackie stood well into the night, searching the horizon for her friend's return. Which deep inside she knew would not happen. There would be hay at the barn, there always was, but tonight she would eat no hay.

In her long years Blackie had watched other friends leave. Too many. Sometimes it was she who was taken away. The first time, she was running free with her mama, and the others. She hardly remembers her mama, but she remembers that horrid, hot terrifying day. It started like any other, scampering about playing with the other young ones. Then the run came!

Chased from all sides, there was yelling, panic and pain. Blackie still feels the pain in her feet, and her chest from running so many miles trying to hard to keep up. Her legs were too short, she lost sight of mama, and she cried out. Like today, trying to run and call at the same time.

She never saw her mama after that day. Or her other friends. It was her first ride in a crowded truck. Tonight, looking over the fence for Chance, she remembered that first ride. A long ride, she remembers how thirsty she'd become. How tired. Where is mama? She'd cried out as long as she had voice.

The ride took her to a place so different from before. She'd never been inside, the air was tight, smelled and felt so strange, and there was so much noise. She had her first lessons there, human lessons. It was hard, at first, to understand humans, but after a while she learned to accept them. Even love some of them. For a while she played there, outside with new friends. Frolicking in the big fields was almost like being home again. It was there she was taught many new things, human things. Some were very fun, some confusing, but she always tried her best. In the evenings she and her new friends would gather together, groom each other and help each other understand. Blackie was different from the others, they had all been born right there. They seemed to learn faster than she, but the friendships they forged were just as real as the friends she'd left behind, before the big chase.

She walked from the fence, just far enough so she could lie down. If the truck and Chance came back, she would be right here, waiting.

It had been a long time since Blackie had thought of those early friends, but tonight she remembered each of them. That first summer, long ago, in the new place, had seen each of them leave, one at a time. Where were they tonight? Blackie stayed two more years. She had her first foal there. Those sweet months with her baby by her side, those are some of her fondest memories. She would have two more foals, each at new places. Each one she left behind as she was taken to new places.

Blackie rolled onto her side, stretched out her neck, heaved a heavy sigh. She thought of those babies. She wondered where they were tonight.

She pulled her tired legs under her, stood and shook. It always feels good to shake. She gave another look far away, and got lost in her thoughts. She thought of the places she'd lived. She remembered the friends she made along the way. She thought of the children so proud to ride her. For a wonderful few years she'd been proud to teach children to ride at the beautiful farm in the mountains. Those were fun days, and she'd had great friends there. Horses and human. She met Chance there. Chance told her his stories. She told Chance, her stories. They understood each other.

One day, she and Chance were loaded together, and they came here. For a while they taught children to ride here too. Then no more children came and it was just she and Chance, and Michelle. Michelle was nice, perhaps the kindest of all the people she'd known. There had been some bad places, and people, over the years, but here with Michelle things were very good. It was peaceful here.

She would miss Chance; she knew he would miss her. Perhaps he'll go to a place where there is a woman like Michelle, who can hear him. And know there is more to his story. There is always more to our stories, and we can tell them, if people listen. 

Blackie laid down, stretched out, and closed her eyes.

Gitty Up ~ Dutch

Let Your Horse Help You See The Moment

Howdy Folks,
 

During these past few weeks of what I like to call a throwback winter, I often chuckle at folks posting countdowns to the first day of Spring, and friends calling to assure me they've had enough of this cold Winter. Soon enough it'll be Spring, and I do love the budding leaves, wildflowers and Spring songs of courting birds. And glorious Spring rides through the woods. But we've got some mighty fine Winter left to enjoy, too. I asked Kessy about longing for Spring, she took a deep breath, and let go a sigh, then rubbed her head against me.

On the heels of Spring comes Summer, the heat, the horseflies, ticks and fleas. The yard and garden work and play. Folks will then be posting about the heat, the horseflies, fleas and ticks, and counting down to Fall. I asked Kessy how she feels about Summer. She took a deep breath, let go a sigh, took a bite of hay and gazed out over the snow covered forest floor. Then rubbed her head on my arm.

Fall will come, leaves will change, the forest will look spectacular. Days will shorten, the moon hang larger in the sky, and gardens will show signs of wear. I asked Kessy what she thought of Autumn. She took a deep breath, looked out at the snow, then rubbed her head on my shoulder.

Of course as Fall wears on the days not only get shorter, but colder too. Mostly the horseflies, misquotes and ticks go their way, away from us, hiding from the cold about to embrace us. Then Winter pays us a visit, bringing along his friends, cold, snow, ice and Mr. Blustery Wind. Folks start longing for Spring, talking and writing how they're ready to be finished with Old Man Winter. It seems whatever season we're in, folks long for the next one, living months ahead of themselves, instead of enjoying the moment they're in. I asked Kessy how she felt about Winter, she took a bite of hay and munched away. Then she rubbed her head on my shoulder.

Kessy and me, enjoyin' a moment.

I like to write about our weather, too. In fact I have lots of fun with it, and love sharing the moment and descriptions with our Coffee Clutch and Facebook friends. I enjoy each season we're in, from the high heat of Summer, to the low cold of Winter. I cherish each moment, live in it. Find the beauty and fun in it. Kessy and other horses taught me that. When you get anxious, worried or frustrated, let your horse help you see the moment. Let her rub off on you.

Gitty Up ~ Dutch Henry