The Teacher and the Student, which is which?

What is so great about having a horse?

It's all the wonderful adventures that come with it. All of the lessons to be learned and all of the knowledge to be gained.

Granite has opened new doors for me. I am learning things I never knew—about me, about life, about all sorts of things. I am developing new friendships I never thought I would have. It's interesting how one old, flea-bitten gray horse can change everything.

Where once I wanted to stay in bed and sleep, I now get up at the crack of dawn so I can race to the ranch and see this fabulous horse: my buddy, my student, my teacher.

Sunday was one of those days that is just so special. The folks at the ranch were great and we spent quite a bit of time bull-shitting and taking "fat" pictures of ourselves on my iPhone. We have all vowed never to become obese after this session of picture taking. We laughed and laughed about our fate, should we choose to eat one too many donuts and then agreed to arrange a camping trip. Friends are had to find. It's like Christmas came early when you make so many new friendships all at once, just because of a horse.

On Sunday, I realized I am a little fearful, but so is Granite. He has to learn to trust me and I have to learn to trust him. Right now, he's afraid of lifting his feet for cleaning and shoeing. When a 1,200 lb. horse decides he doesn't want to lift his feet, sheer physical strength will not cut it (I lack physical strength anyway, let alone sheer physical strength). Bullying a horse into lifting his feet won't work, either. From a common sense point of view, neither of these scenarios will ever get the job done. You will get yourself kicked, stepped on and who knows what else and that is for sure. What does work is patience, kindness and understanding. Being patient enough to try and try again, kind and gentle in your manner and knowing how a horse's mind works are the keys.

I watched Dave as he helped me with Granite this Sunday. He was patient, kind and understanding, lifting Granite's feet, one at a time—carefully, methodically and firmly, but gently. It was not easy and it will not be easy the next time, but it will be easier. Granite was confused and very afraid. Dave pointed out to me that just below his withers a sweat spot was appearing, and this meant that he was very anxious or nervous. I never knew! Most would think he is just stubborn. But he's not, just afraid.

Horses communicate in an unspoken language of actions and reactions. You have to watch them, carefully. You learn to be observant. I am so glad I could watch that day, as Dave helped me with Granite. Dave has a way with horses and Granite is a better horse today because of his help... and I'm a better owner.

But I do have to admit, I'm still afraid to lift Granite's feet. The front I can do—with some hesitation. But the back I'm afraid to lift. ...If I had withers, I would be sweating like Granite. Why? Because I am afraid and unsure, just like Granite.

Will I lift Granite's feet one day? Yes, I will lift Granites feet and he will lift his feet, willingly and without fear. But, like Granite, it will take time for me to accomplish this. We will learn together to trust each other—me, him and him, me.

Owning a horse tests you; it makes you stop, think and contemplate how you are going to handle certain situations. You have to plan ahead and be consistent. You have to learn sign language: horse sign language.

Patience, which has always been a weak point for me, is my lesson today. No rushing around, no quick actions, no fast learning. It all takes time: slow, methodical, consistent. Once, when I was younger, I prayed, "Lord, please make me a more patient person." Don't ever pray for that. Trust me, he doesn't waive a wand and suddenly you are patient. No, no, no. He gives you tests. I think he is still testing me, 20 years later, and Granite is his newest tool.

Apart from my time with Granite, this week was a sad week. Kenny Guinn died suddenly and it was tough watching his son and my friend, Jeff, and his family go through this pain. I know that pain because I have been there, having lost both of my parents.

Words do not comfort. But hugs help a lot, I think. Solitude is important and patience helps. Death is hard to understand. Sometimes it makes no sense and we feel cheated. Other times, it's a blessing, though always sad.

Having now spent a year and a half at Shiloh, I have watched death and how it fits into our lives. We see at the ranch—not every day, but a lot more often than we want—the passing of some truly amazing creatures. They are loved to the end and they pass on in peace. It is not easy, but it is the cycle of life: a new journey for all of us. We learn from their passing that it is not always the worst thing that can happen; when they are sick and old it is a blessing. When a horse is taken too soon, because of an accident or some illness, it is much more painful and we question it. "How could this happen?" we ask ourselves.

It happens because that is the way life is. It is the cycle of life, which is not about how long you live, but how you live your life. I am deeply saddened by the passing of Kenny Guinn, although I knew him only a little. What I did know of him is this: he was good and generous man, always smiling and always with a kind word. That alone sets him apart as a truly remarkable soul.