When I was little, there were lots of westerns on t v.  So, I thought I would like to ride a horse.

Then I got to ride a horse.  It was not an enjoyable experience.  My brother brought his quarter horse from Colorado to pasture it on my Dad’s farm in Ohio.  He invited me to go for a ride with him to cut our Christmas tree from the back of our farm.

So there we were: a big brother who was a pretty good horseman, a fairly well-behaved quarter horse named “Sugar,” a nine-year-old kid who had never been on a horse, a two-bitted axe, and (on the way back) a six-foot pine tree.

You can tell this story is not going to end well, can’t you?

Actually, nothing tragic and permanently debilitating occurred.  That was thanks to my brother and to Sugar.   However, it was most definitely not a fun experience.  My brother complained about me to Mom.  I still remember what he said: “He sits on a horse like a sack of potatoes!”

I have never seen a sack of potatoes riding a horse.  I think that may have been my brother’s main point.

Life is like that.  Sometimes you get what you want, and find out that it is much more demanding than you had ever dreamed.  The analogy between riding horses and life holds at many levels.

First of all, I suppose that you need to start off with a horse that is suited to your skill level.  Beginners need a fairly docile horse.  Galloping is neither required nor wise at this point.  Wanting to do too much or to be too much too fast is not a good idea.

The path matters too.  Most of us are not good enough at life to stray too far off the more straightforward paths.  And there are some paths that even a master horseman ought not to attempt.  As an addict, I have a tendency to want to ride my horse over a cliff.  However, we are not talking about the winged horse Pegasus here.  Horses and their riders need to be careful as to what path they are taking.

I have often been told that horses (as well as other animals) can sense fear, and that it is important that the rider not show (or feel?) fear.  A certain amount of confidence is essential to riding.  When I was little, confidence was not something I had learned to either spell or have.

Balance is important in riding.  I am not naturally a balanced person.  I tend to lean to the right.  Then, I tend to overcompensate to the left.  Before long, I’m looking up at the belly of the horse, hoping that she doesn’t kick me or step on me.

Finally, those who learn to ride a horse are those who get back on the horse after they have fallen off or been thrown.  Life is not easy, and we will fall off or be thrown.  An old movie about a rodeo rider (“Lonely Are the Brave,” I think it was) had an experienced rider say, “There never was a horse that couldn’t be rode, and there never was a cowboy that couldn’t be throwed.”  That may not be good English, but it’s a good truth to remember.

EPILOGUE

Years after my Christmas tree expedition, my wife and I took our kids to a stable to ride horses.  While the kids went for a ride on a beginner’s trail, I chatted with one of the wranglers.  I admitted to him that I was not a horseman, that I was, in fact, afraid of horses.  He was a nice guy who could have sold an Eskimo a freezer.  Somehow he got me up on a horse (for free!), and had me riding by the time my kids got back.  My kids, especially my oldest daughter, were amazed.  So was I!

Anyone care to go for a ride with me on a horse named “Life?”