Pony Talk

Before I used to blog, long ago, I had a diary. The one with the little lock and tiny key, where the pages were so thin and the lines so close together you could hardly write anything between the lines. I was in middle school/early high school at the time, and mostly wrote about boys I liked. It was silly looking back, but felt good at the time. Then, I started writing as a pen pal to my aunt and uncle who lived in Egypt at the time. I learned much of what that was all about, although too young to understand it all, as it was much greater than my capacity could take hold. It sounded fabulous to me. I did notice that I enjoyed the act of writing. Of sitting down, taking the pen and paper and putting my thoughts on those lines. From my brain, through the ink, to become a life of its own right there in front of me. Although nonchalant at the time, I did make note (no pun there) that the process was remarkably fascinating. Tilting my head, looking at the words.

Then high school came along and I remember the joy of learning proper grammar, sentence structure, and words. My senior year high school English teacher just wanted all of us in class to write well - and go to college. She was an advocate for us all. She used to say right before class, "Cyndi, when you stop brushing that pretty red hair, we'll start class". I would turn so red, try to be invisible and wonder why she always says that. Never knowing that I even brushed my hair that much, much less had a brush with me at school and in class, as maybe I thought the brush was an extension of my hand.

Time ticked on and college came, where writing papers was never bothersome. It was work, but I remember taking it seriously, and trying to apply everything my senior year English teacher taught me. She would never know I thought about all the different things she emphasized and struggled to place in our unappreciative brains. The story keeps going with graduation, going to work, getting married, having a child and living life. The usual. Life swept me away from myself.

I lived in survival mode, crisis mode, autopilot mode and all those modes that 30 and 40 year olds do who are trying to figure out how to pay bills, have a household, a marriage and keep a child alive. It was a magical time, with happiness and many opportunities for learning. During this particular growing period, I didn't have the self awareness to realize how I was being shaped. I was bouncing along the path of life, letting the ebb and flow of energy direct me. It seemingly worked well for me, most of the time.

I woke up one day. Maybe it was over a period of years, really. Waking up here and there, like a turtle sticking its head out of its shell, realizing that there's more to life just awaiting my arrival. Slowly, I took hold and began on a journey of transition. I didn't know I was taking a journey, as my self awareness was developing. Sometimes I think of this journey as selfish, maybe even self-indulging. I've not yet arrived, and will likely not get there until I've turned back into dust. The sparkle in it was that finally, I began sensing my self awareness. This slow, new season felt good like a gentle breeze touching my soul.

I would have never guessed I would love to blog, or farm, or run, or many of the things I do in life. It was too far down the road to see. Looking back, it seems so clear. The camp(s) I loved to go to as a teen were Horse Camps. I was a Ag Economics major (Texas A&M) first, before I was a RN. I wanted an animal of every type from a young age. I took Running as my PE in college. I was fascinated by the Animal Science class of learning to judge farm animals. It was all right there under my nose the whole time.

I'll leave the trip down Memory Lane and time travel to Lovebird Lane. That's the real street sign we placed at the end of the gravel road, that leads to our little house that came with two guards dogs and two donkeys. Part of the house deal. I still remember getting two chickens. Then 4 more. Then Belle, our 1 day old lamb, then more sheep, then more guards dogs, and then goats, and a myriad addition of chickens and barn cats mixed in there. There was loss, but always love. It was a recipe that when shaken, mixed and stirred, slowly became The Graves Farm. No kill zone, no slaughter onsite, no eating the chickens (lamb or goats either). Just lots of petting, love and nurturing animals who have distinct personalities of their very own. Everyone with a (sometimes oddball) name and safe place to live life. Exactly as I would have it.

If my heart cannot be bursting enough, we recently added two miniature horses. I've never owned a horse, and have a huge learning curve ahead of me. I'm still surprised when I drive up to the house and see them. Oh, are they mine? I hope I know enough to take care of them.



This is Diego, whose a 3 year old gelding (fixed boy horse). He's halter trained, loves long walks on the beach, just kidding. He does walk well on the lead, super sweet, loves to be petted, brushed and smell you, your clothes, and your hands. Maybe he's checking for treats. His hooves are super shiny, and he has an ombre tail. Shy. He's very shy.




And then there's Dora. She's a 10 year old mare, has a dark chocolate coat with a blond mane and tail. She's not shy, walks well on a lead, and saddles up easily so that anyone 30-40 lbs or less can ride her. (Let's see, that's Sugar, Maybe, a chicken or a cat.) She's super curious, and is the obvious herd leader of the two. Bossy boots.

They are both surprisingly quiet. David made a stall for them in the barn (thank you, honey!). They are mostly interested in grazing and enjoying the warm sun. I just adore them, and am in awe of their beauty. They're beautiful in a different way than all the others. Something about horses.

Inside, I have come full circle. It's a circle of love, peace and joy brought by those around me. My family, my animals, and the quiet of living in the country. I'm 12 years old again, going to summer camp everyday, right outside my door. I'm running to run, not for college credit. I'm writing because it feels good to write.

I can't even imaging anyone I'd rather take this journey with except David. He's given me my most precious gift, Lauren. He's granted me full access to all my hopes and dreams. He's my crew in every race, most importantly in the race of life. Time is moving quickly. He's there to slow it down, and show me what genuine kindness and love looks like. He shows me everyday.


My rock.



Grateful beyond measure to have this peace in my life,

Cyndi





God shining His light. Calm, bright, and with meaning.