Where was I? Oh yes, snow...



...and more snow. Just like large parts of the rest of the country, we have been fairly buried lately. We have met and passed out six foot winter requirement with still about three more snow months ahead of us. As I said to someone recently, the only fires we will be worrying about this spring are the ones set by idiots. Of course, those are the ones we usually worry about anyway and at least this year the forest will be wet enough we might get a fire put out fairly easily.

I've been grateful to have had Mike here with me through the last two storms. Besides more than sharing the workload, having him here during this quiet time of winter introspection has given us an opportunity to reconnect after a year of turmoil for both of us. It's good and we're good. Really good for the first time in quite a while.

As for my own early morning and horse feeding times of introspection, writing about my years with Star and several conversations I've had since have caused me to want to say a few things.

First, I'm not special. There isn't anything that I have done or experienced that isn't open to anyone who desires it. Perhaps the abuse I experienced as a child made me more open to alternative possibilities. My parents marriage was such a mess that I saw the typical life of an American woman as something I would turn to only as a last resort. I was so wounded and sad for most of my early life that I looked for and was open to possibilites. The courage I developed in order to survive gave me the strength to make those leaps of faith. That's all. Just because I suffered to get there doesn't mean you have to.

Open yourselves up to what is constantly available and in front of you. It doesn't have to be a rather romantic and exciting sounding event like I experienced. Not everyone is in a position to walk away from a life and so there will be different possibilities for you. Talk to people. Talk to everyone and don't judge them! We are all on a journey, just at different places on the road. You have been where the person you are judging is and you will someday be where the person you admire is so learn what you can from each of them.

Don't reject the people you deem as not being as far along as you are. Instead, open doors of opportunity for them but do not try to push them through! We all travel at our own pace and through our own process and what is right for me probably isn't right for you or anyone else. Appreciate what each person who happens to cross your path, or stay in your vacinity, can teach you and how they can enrich your life.

Second, yes, the Universe will provide but you must do your part too. If you are presented with opportunities but you want the Universe (or God if you will) to do all of the work, then my dears, I'm afraid you will remain stuck.

Yes, I lived on faith and with no visible means of support for about five years but I worked my butt off too. I bartered my skills for all of my physical needs and that meant doing anything put in front of me, from cleaning house and cooking to cleaning stalls and training young horses. We are spiritual beings living in a physical world and until we are so enlightened as to transcend, well then we have to accept the realities and needs of this world we live in.

As for me, after all of the early years I spent trying to escape this life, I find that now I rather love living in it. If 'transcendence' were offered to me in this moment I would say, 'No thanks. Not yet. I want to breathe in this air a few more times. Watch a few more glorious sunrises. Bury my face in the curly rump hair of a mustang and fill myself with his goodness. Hold on to my husband for as long as I can.' There is joy in this life folks and knowing and appreciating that is where true 'specialness' comes from.

There was a sad time when I was so desperate to get out of my life that I decided I would learn to leave my body and then just not go back. Every night I couldn't wait to get to my room and work and work at separating my spiritual self from my physical self. Then one night as I was sitting in my bed, words appeared in the air in front of me written in blue neon script. They said...'You will not be allowed to leave your body until you have accepted living in it.'

We are physical as well as spiritual beings and that means we have physical needs and therefore we must support those needs. If you are in as simple a place as I was when I left my job in San Franciso, with no dependents, other than a horse and a dog, and no debts, then you can 'run away with the Indians' too. If not, if you have accepted responsibility for others in your life, if you have debts, then you must find a way to live between both worlds.

Often, when people begin to discover a spiritual world, they swing from the far left of analytical and reality based awareness to the far right of spiritual excitement. They forget that they haven't discovered anything new. This knowledge and these experiences have existed since the time when we first began to wonder. They begin to judge and feel superior to others who aren't as far along. Who haven't followed as many Gurus de Jour or listened to as many teachers, who in truth are no different than you or me. I have been blessed to meet a few people in my lifetime who I felt to be truly holy, spiritual beings. Yet even Corbin died from cancer.

Mike and I have felt the judgment of people for what he does drilling oil and gas wells. Would we like for him to be doing something different? Of course we would. Folks, it isn't a life choice for us, it is a life necessity. We are so very grateful that the Universe has provided him with a skill that has produced enough income to allow me to not work during a period of time in which I was battling cancer myself. And a job that also provides us with excellent health insurance or else we would have been bankrupted by this illness. An illness that will hang over my head for the rest of the physical life I am given.

So you see, the Universe does provide. It provided Mike with an exceptional skill at hitting well targets deep, deep underground with an accuracy that does the least amount of damage. It opened a door for him to take work that has provided for us and he was in tune enough to step through that door before we even knew we needed him to. That is how the Universe provides...in cooperation with us as individuals and as groups and as countries and as humanity. The Universe opens doors and we are empowered to step through them, or not. The opportunities are given to us but it's up to us physical beings to do the footwork.

Maybe we've all gotten it wrong. Maybe our purpose isn't to transcend our physical lives, it is to not only accept living in them, but to love every aspect of them without judgement or concern over what is good or bad, right or wrong, but in complete and total abandonment. That's my goal.

I think I must have been a horse...



At some time in my existence, I must have been a horse. Either that or I've spent so much of this lifetime living in the minds and bodies of the horses around me that I sometimes can't tell where they end and I begin.

I'll admit to more than once referring out loud to the leg that has chronic sciatica as my 'right hind'. When I am startled by an unknown noise behind me, my ears will involuntarily twitch as though they are trying to rotate to catch and identify the sound. I taught myself posting diagonals and canter leads by visualizing my own body as the horse's to understand the movement.

Once as that child in Arkansas who ran with a herd of broodmares, I dreamed, fully conscious, that I was allowed to live in a horse body for the duration of the dream. I laughed internally when, like a new foal, I struggled to learn how to coordinate four long legs. Soon I was galloping and playing in the meadow with the rest of the herd.

In bad dreams, it was always a horse that arrived to carry me away to safety.

For most of my life I took my intuitive understanding of horses for granted, didn't understand that everyone couldn't walk into their awareness and come back with information. Now I see it as a gift I can share for the sake of the horses. It is something that can help friends to make hard decisions with comforted hearts.

This post is for you Quest. You were a gallant old soul who lived through hardship and mistreatment but kept your dignity and kindness intact. You faced your passing with the same quiet reserve with which you lived your life. We will miss you and I know you are galloping green pastures, free of pain, with most excellent company.

Busy. Breathing in...


Little Louie giving his mom a kiss. Other than that black head, he is completely white.

This last week has been a bit insane but very productive. First we thought Mike would be leaving for Mexico last Friday, probably with very little notice to get to the airport. Then he got a call and email telling him he was being transferred back to the US. Even though we heaved a mutual sigh of relief, it also meant we had no idea where or when he might go next.

We were both almost giddy with the idea that he would never have to go back to what one man referred to as the 'soul destroying' project down there. At the same time, it created financial worry. Last year while I was going through surgeries etc, Mike went five months without a project which meant we also went through our savings. Still, he got excited about riding his new bike, skiing, and working on the house projects.

Then our excitement about some extended time together was dashed when he got another email telling him he was leaving for Mexico next Friday the 5th. We think they realized pulling such a skilled directional driller who also speaks Spanish out of there was maybe not a very good idea. At least he got in a full day of skiing yesterday and we did some major rearranging in the yurt to try some things out before they have to become permanent. That's the busy part.


Little Skippie snuggling with his mom.

Breathing in...

It started snowing Wednesday evening and continued steady all of the way through Thursday, leaving us with a foot or more of snow by Thursday night. I got up around 2:00 in the morning to add wood to the stove and by then the skies had cleared and the moon was out. I looked out the full glass door to see unmarked snow, turning the rough and rocky mountain slope above us into something as invitingly smooth as a white down comforter. Pine and fir trees still carried full loads of snow on their branches in the complete stillness. Moonlight turning it all into something miraculous. I had to step out, even wearing only my underwear. The air was crystal, cold, and filled with moisture. Except for the smell of pines, it was pure of any other scents. When you live near civilization, you forget what truly clean air smells like. Breathe it in...fill your lungs with crystals of ice and oxygen...let it out with a peaceful sigh...climb back up to bed and dream of flying over white covered mountains.

Out with the horses the next morning to bring them breakfast, pulling an ice covered rug off of Brillo so that he can catch the warm morning sun. Run my hands over his back and sides to smile at the soft flesh beginning to cover his spine and ribs. Greet Griton. Laugh at the icicles hanging from his lashes and whiskers. Breathe it in...his wonderful damp and warm horse smell...let it out with a sigh of contentment...come back inside to eat breakfast myself.

This morning, up making coffee at 5:00 because I had restocked the stove at 4:00. Was woke up again at 4:30 by Willie to tell me the fire had gone out. Up again at 5:00 because Fionna had only then decided she needed to potty. Too many wake ups to go back up to bed so I decided to make my coffee. I stepped outside to toss out the remnants of the last cup and was captured by the stillness of the morning. Moon setting and just a hint of light to the east. Early morning silence and the air. That same crisp, startlingly clear air filling my lungs again. Pause to take it in...breathe it in...let it out with a sigh of pure joy...come back in and make the best tasting coffee I've ever had.

Breathing in is what makes the busyness, the work, Mike leaving for Mexico again, all worth while.


The boys sharing some hay with each other...both seem to be thriving, strong kids.

Brillo has new clothes!


Look at that sweet face in his black and hunter green trail bridle! I love his little foxy ears and soft expression.

I think it must be my old endurance riding days that make me like putting color on a horse. It certainly isn't my formal years as a dressage rider! Brillo's color is officially hunter green and he now has his very own velvet saddle pad and halter bridle with a matching noseband. Pretty cool! I'm only waiting for a special shim pad to arrive so that I can balance out his saddle and then I will start some gentle riding to build muscle.


New bridle and new hunter green saddle pad. Look...he's even almost got a tummy! He still needs a few layers over his ribs but he is definitely a changed horse.

On a personal note, I have been so busy and happy that another milestone anniversay passed without my notice. January 15, 2009 I was at UNM Cancer Research Center having left axilary lymph node dissection to help prevent the recurrance of cancer. It's lovely to have those things so far from my thoughts.

Very sad goat news...



It seems that little Hop's failure to thrive wasn't just due to being pushed off his mom by a bigger kid. In spite of keeping his tummy full with milk replacer, he died during the night. Most likely he had a congenital problem that took a while to show up.

We will still be taking his brother, Skip, who is now a singleton. Making the choice of a second kid was difficult, knowing that the one you pick is being saved from someone's dinner table. I don't have photos yet of the one we chose and hopefully, after this current storm series passes, I can get down there with the camera and do that.

This new kid was one of the original front runners and he is big and sturdy, mostly white with just a black head. While I was thinking of the remaining boys I had to choose from, I kept singing the old kid's dancing song to myself, 'Skip! Skip! Skip to my Lou!' and so decided to name the new boy Lou or Louie.

I did a bit of research on that old song and found out it was a frontier dance game played during the days when dancing and music were considered the work of the devil. There were no instruments used, just singing and clapping. People skipped around in a circle holding hands with one person in the middle. That person chose his or her new replacement with a skip and exchange of hands putting the new person in the middle. Originally, 'Lou' was 'loo' which is the Scottish word for 'love' and I guess even that was a little too intimate for those old pioneers.

So the new pair will be Skip and Lou, most likely Skippy and Louie.

Let's finish this thing!


The last photo I ever took of Star.

First, a Star Story: while I was still commuting from my job in San Francisco to northern California on the weekends, sometimes I left Star there for the week to hang out with Corbin. One day that gaited horse trainer whose clinic started it all, called me at my office with the usual opening of 'You won't believe what your horse did!'

Besides being a trainer, he was also a broker for buying and selling gaited horses and an attractive young potential client had come to visit him. She thought she might be interested in buying a gaited horse and since he didn't have many on hand at the time, he took her to see Star whose appearance would impress just about anyone.

Star lived like a prince in a stall with a run in those days so his coat was silky blue-black, his mane was long and wavy and his tail drug the ground. The trainer took this young woman to his stall and she stood there in awe saying, 'He's so beautiful! He's the kind of horse you would like to slip a halter on, get on him bareback, and go for a ride!'

Star's response was to calmly reach around the corner to where his halter was hanging, take it off the wall, and toss it to her.

So back to this piece of history...Star, Gita and I were all living in Seguin and I was working a multiple of 'under the radar' part time jobs. Life was peaceful and I had time to rest and regroup. I had two horses then, Star and a thoroughbred I rescued from racing and took with me when I left Edith's. Snappy wasn't very bright and he was a classic example of a pen raised, pen kept horse. Star spent a lot of his time trying to teach Snappy how to be a horse.

Along came a man who was an artist and who designed and manufactured jewelry. In those days, I didn't believe that romantic, or 'real' love existed. I thought it was a fabrication of recent centuries to help keep couples interested in the idea of marriage. I had experienced obsessive infatuation and I had learned to run from that as if I were being chased by wolves! But I had never experienced anything that lasted or was supportive and enduring.

I had experienced the love of friendships that had lasted for most of my life so when this man said he loved me, I was honest that I didn't love him the way he wanted me to but maybe we could be a success loving as friends. From him I learned to make jewelry and turned out to be quite good at it. When travel to art events took me away from Seguin more and more, and as his business began to make a good bit of money, it made sense for me to relocate to Austin and so I did.

Just prior to moving, Gita had hit the very old age of ten for a Great Dane and when she began to suffer congestive heart failure, I let her go. I had always thought I would adopt another Dane but when I went to the rescue where they also had greyhounds, I fell in love and adopted my first two, Birdy and Mikey. Star and Snappy went to a pasture boarding facility in Austin not far from where I was living.

Funny about that relationship...when the designs I made began to steadily exceed his in sales, it didn't do so well. There came a day when he was so angry that I realized I was only moments away from being struck and I packed my things and left, taking refuge at a dear friend's house in Austin. In retaliation, he destroyed the previous two years of my design work.

But hey! I had learned that I could live on nothing so while I was a bit frightened, I wasn't paralyzed and I had learned every aspect of a skill that I was very good at. In six weeks I created an entirely new line of jewelry, initially focusing on greyhounds, and I was in business as Black Horse Design. It was immediately successful and as a tithe, I adopted a twelve year old greyhound named Cody who had survived an extremely rough life.

To keep myself sane, getting out of the house and connecting with people, I began dating again. That old greyhound, Cody, had decided he was going to live a while longer and while he liked me, he clearly preferred men. Every guy who came to the house to pick me up got examined by old Cody. He only had about six teeth left in his head and he could barely see. When someone came to the house Cody would come shuffling down the hall, ears flopping in time to his arthritic stride. He would sniff that person up and down, decide it wasn't the right guy, and off he would take himself back to bed.

Then Mike and I met in September of 2000 and we both just somehow 'knew'. The first time he came to the house to pick me up for dinner, old Cody did his shuffle down the hall routine but this time, he sniffed Mike, then plopped his head in his lap and from that moment on, he was Mike's dog.

At the beginning of October I had to head to Delaware for my first time vending at one of the biggest gatherings of greyhound adopters in the world and Mike had to head off to some kind of job training. He had just moved back to Austin from working for NOLS in Baja Mexico as a scuba and kayak guide and was re-entering the oil and gas drilling world.

We both got back to Austin towards the end of October and while I helped him look for a place to rent, I wondered why he was bothering. I think he stayed maybe one night there in the six or so months he rented it. That February, less than six months after we met, Mike proposed and even though I had turned down previous offers of marriage, I didn't even have to think about saying yes to him. We were married on May 19, 2001 and the following May we found our land here in New Mexico and moved from Austin in July.

Snappy Runner, the thoroughbred, never became fully sane and so I placed him with a rescue where he found a very good and suitable home. Star moved to New Mexico with us where he met Cuervo Humoso (Smoky Raven), our first adopted BLM mustang, and Copper, an adopted quarterhorse. He finally had his own little herd and space to move.

We leased a house for a year while Mike worked on building the deck for the yurt and making enough improvements for us to move onto the land, all in between making and finishing jewelry and traveling to art events. In September 2003, we were finally able to move the horses to our own land and they loved it, especially Star.

That October we made the now annual trip to Delaware for the greyhound event that funded us through spring. On the way home, we received a call from the neighbor feeding the horses that Star was sick and they were taking him to the clinic. I don't remember much of that trip, I think we pretty much drove non-stop, staying in constant contact with his vet via cell phone. We arrived at the clinic around 10:00 at night, just about the time Dr Nelson came in to check on Star.

What had started as a colic episode had become something no one could quite figure out. He had no impaction and there were no longer any colic symptoms; yet he also had not resumed eating. It was finally decided that we should take him home to see if getting back in his own environment would help. Before we could get there the next morning, we received a call that he had been found lying dead in his stall with no sign of a struggle, most likely from an aneurysm.

We brought his body home and buried him here on the mountain where he had finally experienced freedom. I was a mess. I felt numb, as if part of myself had been ripped away and I floundered around, trying to work during our busiest time of year. I still get a lump in my throat just remembering that time. I would be at the work bench and I would just halt, lost and unable to think of what to do next. It was a terrible time for all of us. Mike said that Star was always such a huge presence that he somehow believed he would never die. Cuervo had lost his leader and his friend.

Life does go on though and we all slowly recovered and we added Corazon de la Tierra to the herd. When we decided the quarterhorse, Copper, needed a more civilized place to live, Valeroso came to live with us. Later Griton came to the herd and I fell in love with him. When we lost Cuervo a year after Star to a ruptured gut, most likely from a tumor bursting that had kept him having minor colic for over a year, we all grieved again. I thought the loss of Mike's first horse and brother in hooves might be something he couldn't recover from; but again, life goes on.

After Cuervo died, Llego came to be Mike's new brother and we made an attempt to add another domestic horse to the herd in the form of Besol. Besol was too damaged and not safe for me after all of those surgeries so we traded him for Mio. Then of course, we rescued Brillo who seems to be joining the herd just fine.

Yes, I've thought of writing a book and at one time it seemed important. After the last year though, my priorities have changed. As long as I am well and able, why spend time sitting and writing a book? If I manage to live to be old, then there will be time to remember and write. Now I want to live and enjoy every moment with those 'real' loves who have come into my life.

And here I am, so many years after the last time I did healing work, called back to it again. I can't remember if I've said this here before, Corazon is a medicine horse. I recognized what he was the first time I saw him in that BLM holding pen. I've watched him quietly work his magic on the horses around him, slowly healing and changing them. I don't know where all of this is going to lead. There is a small group of us that have found ourselves drawn here to this place in the mountains. There is purpose behind it and if we are patient, we will see what it is.

So let's finish this...


Star and I during our first winter here while we were renting the Purple House of Possibilities.

Corbin was spending more and more time traveling around the world. He made trips to places like Kazakhstan, speaking about how political boundaries don't really exist. That we all share one earth, one water, one air. His mission was to end nuclear testing around the world.

That meant Sharman and I were together more and more and her control was slipping at a fast rate. On one trip home, Corbin told her he could no longer work with her anger and it was the same for me and for Star as well. I found that I was lonely. I missed my circle of women friends and I decided to move back to Texas.

I packed up Star and Gita and what few belongings I had hung on to and I moved back to Seguin where I had family and friends. Initially, I felt more than a little lost; but word of mouth led a breeder and trainer of race horses in Canyon Lake to call me to ask for help with one of her horses. She was so impressed with the changes in the horse that she invited me to come and live there, along with Star and Gita, to work with all of her race horses and young horses.

Her name was Edith and she was in her early sixties and at the most, five feet tall and maybe seventy or so pounds. She was a devout Christian and as far as I could tell, lived off of cigarettes, coffee and coca cola. In spite of her age and Christian beliefs, more often than not she was wearing sandals, shorts and a semi-transparent top with no bra. She was also having an affair with a man in his twenties.

To say it was a bizarre time for me would be putting it very lightly. I got my track groom's license so that I could travel with the horses and my primary role was to keep them sane enough to survive the stresses of racing. It was a time of great self doubt for me and certainly an enormous test of my own faith and beliefs. Especially with scenes like this that frequently unfolded in the barns~

The guys that work on the race tracks often aren't the most evolved and fights frequently broke out. Edith lived in a small RV trailer parked next to the main barn and as soon as there would be yelling, cursing and the sound of things being thrown, Edith would come flying out of her little trailer, cigarette in one hand, mug or coke can in the other, breasts bouncing under her transparent top. She would go running down the concrete barn aisle, sandals slapping, as she yelled at the top of her lungs 'I plead the blood of Jesus on you! I plead the blood of Jesus on you!' As you might expect, faced with that the guys would disappear like mice when the lights are turned on. Edith would then turn to me and say. 'See! The blood of Jesus works every time!'

While I lived there, I had a true 'dark night of the soul', a major transformational point that solidified everything for me and caused changes that remain today. That's another story though and one I will get to eventually. The insanity of living with Edith and her strange sense of Christianity began to take a rather large toll on me and in spite of wanting to stay for the horses, I knew I had to get out of there.

It was finally time to get a job and have my own space again. I actually got several jobs, all part time, but they gave me some flexibility and amazingly, I rented the house and the barn where Star was born. Being able to live on the soil of his birth was exactly what Star needed and we both had a long period of quiet and recovery. We did some healing work when people heard about us and asked, but that was all. It was definitely a time of peace for us both.

I thought I would be able to bring this to a conclusion today but this is long enough. Tomorrow or the next day I will finish and share another 'Star Story' or two.