Critical Sensorium Project

By Celeste Hermes

[celestehermes-blog]

The blue-sky flies by as I’m driving down the highway. Speeding 60 mph away from my problems, into a wide meadow of peace. My soul takes a deep breath as I turn into the oasis of flora and fauna. Green grass, huge skies, and an abundance of animals make my heart whole. As I park, the sun glows on my tan skin, turning me a darker shade of brown, and my hair a lighter shade of blonde.

           Walking through the barn, I greet and am greeted by people who share my passion. We all have a mutual, unsaid feeling of peace that interconnects us. Being one with nature, together, reels us to our beginnings. The same spirit is shared between us and our horses and animals. When I reach my horse, that spirited bond deepens. My heart is radiant, and nothing can tear us apart in this cherished moment in time. Time stops at the barn, but the Earth keeps turning—the sun the only evidence of its existence. Frazier, my horse is a part of me, and when I am with him, I finally feel whole.

           Grooming him, the dust flies up, some sticking to me, and some falling back to the ground. I feel grounded—actually a part of the planet that evolved into making me. The same world that brought me and this 1,200-pound animal together and form this indescribable bond. I saddle him and put on his leather bridle, then take him out from under the tin roof. I look up and remember the calming feeling of rain hitting the roof. The sound is amplified and sounds like a downpour when, in reality, there are only a few sprinkles spitting from the sky. When I reach the yellow light of the Sun, my body heats quickly. The fan is no longer blasting on my perspiration. Frazier and I both try to beat the heat with water. Embracing the incremental periods of time the sun hides behind the clouds, we relax in sweet, short-lived relief. When the Sun begins to peek out from the clouds, we both dread it, but can’t resist its gorgeous effect. The rays from the painted sky cast on the tall grass, reflect off of the two barns, and warms the Earth and our hearts.

           I bring myself up to the saddle and look below me. The ground is far below me. This bliss is only felt when I’m here—the feeling that I am (literally) above my problems. The insignificant problems of my home life are trampled by Frazier’s large hooves, and we can accomplish the impossible. In fact, there is no “impossible”. Our gait quickens to a canter, and the oxer jump set in front of us are all my obstacles at home. Together, Frazier and I hurdle high above them—nothing but a small nuisance.

Riding in the setting sun, I can only think presently. My past isn’t tapping on my shoulder, begging for me to overthink about it. My future isn’t shoving through my thoughts, uninvited. My conversations with my barn family, my relationship with Frazier, my love for nature… my peace: that’s all that is meaningful in these fleeting seconds.

[celestehermes-blog]

           Driving down 183, the radio is tuned to 98.1 FM. The speaker is blasting Josh Turner, and the sound of cars zooming by my open window is almost deafening. I turn onto the country road, and the crunch of gravel beneath my tires replaces the cars. Bumping along the road, I turn the volume down to hear the singing of the birds, and the horses playing in their pastures. I near the parking area and start rolling my window up, the music now the only thing consuming my ears.

           I open the car door and hear my trainer’s booming voice from the inside of the barn, followed by my friends’ distinct voices responding. I walk into the barn and the volume of their voices get louder. I greet my trainer, Paulina, and she asks me how my day was. I respond that it’s better now that I’m here, and everyone agreed vehemently. The fans blowing at full speed in each stall drown out the sounds in the barn. However, the chomping of hay, and horses knocking their buckets against the wall occasionally overrides the fans. Some of the horses murmur as I pass by them, while some are too consumed in their dinner to even notice my presence.

           I walk through the locker room and into the outdoor paddocks, and hear Frazier eating his grain. The fans are just as powerful out here as inside the barn. Suddenly, my thoughts are interrupted by a synchronized squeal from Frazier and his next-door neighbor—Frazier is not a fan of equine company when eating. I scold him, and he goes back to eating as if nothing had just happened. Laughing, I grab his halter and lead rope to take him out of the stall to groom and tack up. José, the barn hand, had his Spanish music blasting from a radio atop a trunk down the aisle. As soon as I notice it, he comes out from the stall he was working in and starts a conversation in his native language. I respond in my broken Spanish, but I manage to understand that he’s asking if I’m riding today and stating how hot it is. This is usually how our short exchanges go, except if I had just ridden, he asks if Frazier was “loco hoy” (crazy today). I always enjoy my interactions with José; he is always so happy, even when it seems there’s not much to be happy about. It makes me realize how lucky I am, and how much I take life for granted. I forget about my worries and focus on the present, just like him.

           After grooming and saddling Fray, I put on my helmet, half-chaps, and gloves, and we are ready to ride. When I’m on Frazier, I am extra alert, listening for anything in the bushes that may spook him. Horses, especially Fray, are known to bolt when they think they are in danger. I have to sing Edelweiss to him to calm him and myself, and as we ride the trust builds. Nothing matters now, except me and him, as I hear his hooves pound the bare Earth beneath us.

[celestehermes-blog]

Driving to the barn, I’m eating my light, pre-barn snack. The kettle corn’s sweet and salty taste is so satisfying. I lick the excess butter off of my fingers, one at a time, and wipe them off my pants. The settling salt in the back of my throat causes a burning sensation, causing me to drink the ice-cold water in my Yeti. I feel quenched, yet I haven’t even stepped foot on the barn. The window is down, and while I turn onto the dusty, gravel road up to the barn, I get an unfortunate mouth-full of dirt. I spit, dismayed, and roll my window up.

           Walking through the barn, I am already taking sips of the water in my hand, I need to be hydrated for the hot ride. Passing through the aisle, horses eating their early dinner on either side of me. Some with molasses, some alfalfa, and some with senior grain, they all munch, simultaneously enjoying the food. When I reach Frazier’s stall, he’s eating his senior grain mixed with his powdered supplements. I decided to surprise him with an apple. Before I lay it flat on my hand for him to eat whole, I take a small bite, and the juices burst in my mouth. I immediately salivate, as the surprise of the sweet apple consumes my taste buds. He takes a huge bite, clearly excited for his treat.

           Excitedly, he walks out of the stall, hoping and sniffing for more treats. I get his grooming supplies and tack after attaching him to the cross-ties. His delight from his small treat reminds me how important, but unnoticed, simple pleasures are in the busy real world. I think about how miniscule my worries are; why do I let a plethora of small things worry me when I am happy, presently? I groom and spray Fray, getting a bit of fly spray in my mouth. I don’t mind though, it’s surprisingly pleasant for a bug repellent. I saddle and bridle him and put my helmet on. Before getting on, I get one last gulp of burning cold water, reviving my throat.

           I hoist myself on and hold my water by the carabiner until reaching the top arena. Frazier, below me, attempts to make a passing bite at the grass when we reach the tasty, green arena, but I yank up on his bridle. Eating while wearing a bit can be a choking hazard to the horse, because grass or hay can get caught in it.

           We are instructed to pick up a warmup trot, and after a good, ten-minute stretch and warm-up, we all get a water break. I can feel the water rejuvenating me as it falls down my throat and settles in my core. I take small, slow sips to avoid cramping while I ride. Finally, we are on to the good stuff—jumping, and in the heat of the Summer sun, sweat trickles down my forehead. I get a taste of my own salty sweat-drip. Fray and I, both sweaty, slow down to a walk to get another sip of water to counteract the taste of dehydration. Taking a couple more gulps, I feel refreshed—who knew something as simple as water could be so rewarding. I realize how much I take for granted, and coming to the stables brings me back, humbles and harmonizes me with nature.

[celestehermes-blog]

           My car-ride snack was gone, but its sweet stink still filled my nose. Windows down on the highway, the fumes of the passing trucks sneak into the car and are ghastly. As I turn off the highway, and onto the barn property, the swarming chemicals almost immediately disappear and are replaced with the concoction of good and bad barn smells.

           Rolling down the loose, white gravel, the upturned dirt and dust is overwhelming. I can’t bare it, so I roll my windows up to avoid breathing in all the dust. For the short period of my window being closed to the time I parked, the vanilla of my air freshener gave me a last whiff of artificial fragrance before spending hours at the stable. I put my boots on before walking out; they smell faintly of sweaty feet but is mostly overpowered by the horses. Once my boots are tied, I walk out of my car, into the big barn. As I walk through the threshold, the trail of the blooming flowers pleasantly surprises me. The sweet is contrasted by the dust stench in the barn. Walking closer to the stalls, the manure engulfs my nostrils. The familiar smells of the barn set off a series of feelings of comfort, safety and peace. I feel at home. Home is where you don’t notice that certain smell that all the visitors notice as soon as they come in. So, I admit, writing this is hard, because, personally, I have to exaggerate what I smell as if I’m a stranger to the environment I have grown to love.

           I walk through the tack room, feeling congested from the dust and dirt that’s strayed across the concrete floor. Walking through, I smell the hay and grain of Frazier’s early dinner. As I greet him in his stall, the indescribable scent of Fray makes me happy. It reminds me of the memories we’ve shared together. From me jumping three feet for the first time, to me crying on his neck after a break up, to our first ride. His scent triggered these moments, and I hug his big neck, nudging my face into his shoulder—I’m safe. I take him out to the aisle and ready him for our ride. As I brush him, the dirt flies up, prompting a small allergic reaction by a sudden sneeze. I then get the fly spray and cover his body with the refreshingly scented spritz. The functional horse perfume lingers in the air as I pick his hooves. His slightly muddy feet give off a stench that prompts me breathe through my mouth. Finally, I put on the leather saddle, girth and bridle on Frazier. The trace of the leather mixed with the hay, manure and dirt comprised all together made the familiar smell of home.

           I get on Frazier, and we head up to the arena, revisiting the choking aroma of kicked-up dirt road. Finally, we arrive to the arena where the dirt is gone, and riders are trampling the thick grass. Willing Frazier into a trot, I take a deep breath in. Taking in the newly cut grass, and the fresh air that flows at the top of the hill, I feel love and peace with Frazier and the Earth.

[celestehermes-blog]

I am gripping the rough, hot steering wheel, wind whipping my hair back as I turn off the highway. The cool breeze stops immediately as I slow to the unpaved road. The sedan tumbles its way up to the barn and stops near the muddy dirt.

           Stepping out of my car, the ground is soft and welcoming. There’s no concrete or man-made floors separating me from the Earth. Walking through the heavy barn doors, I greet the horses in the stalls. Their muzzles sniff my clean hands, searching for treats. The warm tickle on my hand from their upper-lip creates a bond between me and the 1,200-pound animals. Some of them, as I’m walking down the aisle, will put their weight into my hand to encourage a friendly forehead-scratching. My hands immediately get grimy from horse hair and dirt. I rub my hands together—a pathetic attempt at cleaning my hands. The heels of my worn-in paddock boots hit the hard dirt ground of the barn aisle, and I turn to find my horse. The artificial wind from the numerous fans hit my already sweating arms, as I get temporary relief from the hot, Summer temperatures. My horse takes my mind away from my discomfort, and when I feel his soft hair against my fingertips. This physical touch spurs an emotional connection between him and I. I rest my head against his shoulder, ignoring his mane brushing my face. Tension that rested in my muscles from the obligations and stresses from home is released.

           I put on his rope halter, completing the knot, my fingers working as a mind of their own. The muscle memory of grooming and picking at his dirt covered hooves, brings me a sense of peace and comfort. At least if I fail at everything else, I know I can succeed at taking care of Frazier. The soft saddle pad rests on his bony back followed by the sturdy leather saddle. Putting my hair in the hair net, I toss it up in my helmet; it’s a tight fit, but my neck feels the fan, and I get a temporary relief from the heat.

           One boot in the metal stirrup, I swing my leg around Frazier, my butt hitting the saddle. Deep in my seat, my leather gloves grip the braided reins. The texture is button-like, reminding me to tighten my fingers. This is one of my bad habits. I can feel a tug from the bit when I close my hands firmly around the reins, and worry I’m hurting him. In so many ways, Frazier and I are connected, through my legs on his side, my bottom on his back, and my hands to his mouth. I physically destress and relax my body, so he catches on. Doing this can prove to be difficult, as horseback riding can be dangerous, and my life is always at risk. Frazier relaxes into me, and I feel his weight in my reins.

           I dig my heels down into the worn Ariat boots, as I ever so slightly squeeze his body. This wills him to break into a trot. 1-2-3-1-2-3-1-2-3… the rhythm continues. Posting in the saddle, I move up and down with him, controlling him through my slow post. As we continue in the long straight away his trot elongates, and his neck falls more into my reins. Aware of my hands not giving out, we keep the extended, dressage trot through the corner. My outside tightens as my inside heel presses into him to hug the rail. Later we are instructed to change direction, so I tighten the left rein. I change my diagonal by sitting twice through the bumps of his trot.

           My muscles warm, loosen and relax after we slow to a walk. Taking my feet out of my stirrups, I wipe the sweat rolling down the side of my face. Soon enough the water break is over, and with a squeeze we go from 1-2-3-4-1-2-3-4- to 1-2-3-1-2-3. Asking for a canter, we go to 1-2-1-2-1-2. The rhythm moves me to let my ankles fall farther into my heels. Pointed to the jump, I am more aware of Frazier’s gait. 1-2-1-2-1-2 jump! We escalate three feet in the air, and I am ecstatic. I hover over the saddle as we work together as a unit, 1-2-1-2 another jump! My heart swells with pride, love and peace. In this Summer evening, cantering through the soft grass, we are unstoppable.

[celestehermes-blog]

Rolling down the white rocky dirt path, the car bumping on the rocky road, I look at the wide open green field and the bunnies hopping across to the neighboring property. Dust rises behind me in the rear-view mirror, and peace overwhelms me. All personal anxieties are immediately gone when crossing the heavy gate between the two white, stone columns.

           Horses are grazing on the left with people riding in the arena at the top of the low hill. Life slows down, paralleling with the slow 15mph down the road. Finally, at a stop, I get out of my car. The barn is a large white metal structure with dirt floors and old wood stalls. Ears immediately perk, and all the beady eyes look at me as I walk into the barn. A thin layer of dust covers the surfaces of everything that resides in the barn. I lay my keys down on the table and make my way to my horse’s stall. Above me, hanging from the tin roof are baskets of flowers, and fly catchers. Precious, one of the several barn cats, is lounging atop a tack trunk with a teal saddle pad as his cushion. I turn and walk through the dirty white locker room. Right outside the door I see Frazier.

           Frazier is eating his hay and flies are swarming. The fan blades are spinning hard, creating a lulling ambiance as his mane gently blows as the artificial wind hits. I greet him. I was looking at him before, but now I see him. We make eye contact, and suddenly my heart fills with love, and brain with endorphins. His soft face reminds me that I am loved and relied on. His perked ears show me that he’s looking at me with as much intent as I am to him. I unlock the rusty gate and unlatch the blue nylon rope halter attached to the side of the door and walk in. He chomps at the hay for one more large bite before lowering his head, accepting the halter.

           Leading him out, I look down at my black leather boots and make sure his hooves aren’t going to step on me. These are my worries when I’m here at the barn; are we both safe right now? Rather than when I’m at school, “who said what about who?” I latch the cross ties to each side of the halter. I calm him by rubbing the crest of his dappled grey neck, hair and dirt pile in a lump that quickly is caught by the wind and travels its way slowly to the floor. Watching this was peaceful, as it reminded me that everything returns back to the Earth someday.

           Walking to the tack locker room, through the rickety door, I pick up all my tack and grooming box. I set everything down on the saddle rack and bridle hook and grab my favorite black brush with yellow bristles. From withers to hind quarters, I brush long strokes flicking at the end of my stroke, the dirt flying into the air. This is therapeutic and overwhelmingly satisfying. Today, I chose the lavender saddle pad over the light blue. I set the pad atop his swayed back and add another black half pad to cushion the deep brown English saddle with beautiful white stitching. Once I finish, I lead Frazier to the handmade, wooden mounting block. The sun’s light blinds me, as I come from the dark barn.

           The visor from my helmet can’t shield me from the Summer’s evening light. One foot in the stirrup, I wrap my legs around Frazier, and look down at the ground, twice as tall as I was before. I ride to the grass arena. Frazier, panicked, looks all around him before walking further. We arrive at the painted white fence with the grass greener than usual, after a Summer shower. Frazier’s neck is high in anticipation, and all my focus is to calm myself to transfer my energy to him. His visual cues are my reminders that all that matters is making him feel safe. The sky this evening is so big, and as we are riding over the brightly colored jumps, a gorgeous, painted sunset begins. After our ride, when I’m ready to go home, dark has flooded the sky. The moon casts a silhouette of the horses, as I drive away… back to the real world.