Oh, I should mention that I rode horses with my mom every Saturday from ages 5-17, the very same age we generally have full acceptance of the yoke of drinking, smoking, and the possibilities of sex on the weekends. Coincidence?
"Check out this amazing video of this girls amazing horsemanship, bareback with no reins. This is what riding is all about? This animal does flying changes, turns on the haunches and all the dressage movements with seemless ease and no movements on the part of the rider. Incredible. Tell me what you think. MOM"
Here's the video of the Bareback Rider. No, not the kind of bareback rider I became when I stopped riding horses. The non-metaphoric, non-"uh, doc, i have a problem" kind.
Sure, the music sucked, but get beyond that. That was beautiful, no? A "wow" should've crept in. Probably more so if you've ridden a horse, but either way. Seeing the power that horse can conjure underneath from a job to a gallop is frighteningly beautiful. And that's one well-trained motherfucking gorgeous horse. Yes, sure, the rider must be good, but that needs to be a well-trained horse...if she got on any other horse she couldn't do the same thing. Right? Right.
And that's where I disagree with my dearest mother. As beautiful as the horse was, it was more about the horse/rider combo, the training (she's making movements, speaking, touching the mane, snapping)...not about the riding in purity as my mother suggested. Pure horsemanship is getting on a horse you've never seen before and having that sort of rapport/control.
At least the me that stopped riding over a decade ago in favor of Saturday-Sunday-guilty-hangovers thinks that. That's right, I'm an authority.
Perhaps I'd be a little less combative with my mom's suggestions if those cutesy animations, the little dumbo waving its shnoz at me and smiling, the little wide-eyed multicolored gnomes, the non-descript yellow emoticon sweetheart, all these little digital wastes didn't clog my email or the space on my precious retina.
Perhaps.
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