Spring, Dust and Mayans

The sunshine felt good today as it shed the last grasps of winter in-lue of the summer rays.  The threats of spring snow seem a distant memory of weeks gone by as the dust rises from the outdoor arena.  Spring is in full bloom, while the first baby of the year runs a few feet farther from her mother every day exploring the new world.  The eternal season of hope is upon us and all around are the promises of good things to come.  The last spring of the Mayan calendar, the 2,012 of our current system.  So here we sit in the changing times looking forward to the future.  I wonder if the Mayan’s realized it would be a Presidential election year?

The real interesting thing in realation to all this is the Mayans figured their civilization would survive 1,112 years longer than it did.  The last leaders of the collapsing empire seeing the inevitable began to offer people as sacrifice to change the fate of their rule.  Unable to appease the Gods the mighty civilization that was too big to fail became a part of history.  The great cities reclaimed by the Jungle, a unified language split into over 70 variations.  Unimaginable wealth buried in the tombs of the greats of the past.  While those who survived the great fall continued to live off the land, clinging to their “guns and religion”.

I suspect if the Mayans got the whole end of the world right, those who know how to farm, hunt and survive off the land will keep praying and living happily into the year 2013.  CEO’s, Lawyers, and a host of others who offer relatively useless services will disappear in despair.  Reclaimed by the jungle the great cities of our civilization reduced to nothing more than a mix of stone and history. If people are not producing something productive and beneficial they need to be called what they are, useless.  Much like the leaders of self absorbed civilizations of the past. I fear many who try to lead us, really aim to sacrifice us to their Gods of power and hate. 

I am glad the sun felt really good today and we are in a season of change.  I love riding outside, having the sun sting my winter white skin.  I enjoy looking at the pasture and seeing my baby run and play but staying ever so vigilant of where mom is.  I am not worried about the end of the world, so far everyone has miss calculated that.  I am still sure the cup is half full.  Not sure what riding in a dusty arena has to do with the history of the Mayans but sure don’t want to be like them.  Still think its funny they predicted the end of the world the same time as a presidential election.

From the Dark to the Light

In the distance is the outline of a man walking his horse; the bright arena lights however do not show color or the details of whom he is.  The horse follows quietly with his head low slowly swaying the reins side to side.  He methodically moves to his destination and in a few steps is out of my sight.  Walking on the edge of the shadow I never come to know who he is only the shape of his body and the willingness of his horse to follow.  Now vanished from my sight I ponder what is ahead for this team of mysterious nature.  The amazing 1000 pound animal and his 150 pound director. Off they go to work to train to find harmony, hoping that tomorrow they might win a chance to compete in the Finals and win a prize.  The work of a night at the horse show.

Often I fill we travel on the edge of light moving forward striving to come to something great.  Others sit farther in the darkness and question, judge, support, mock. Some rest inside the lighted arena already part of the great chase for fame and fortune.  The practice pen will determine in large part how things will go tomorrow.  Yet often the worst night before becomes the greatest run of ones life in the morning.  Sometimes it’s a long walk from the stalls to the pen and an even longer walk back to the same stall after.  Regardless of outcomes there always is a walk.

Right now a lot of folks are sitting in the dark waiting.  A few have already won a prize and gone home while others are pounding it out trying to find success tomorrow. I do see though long periods of no one taking a walk. It is inherently obvious that to get to the practice pen to get ready to show we need to walk.  So why are you sitting in the dark by the stall wondering who is that dark silhouette walking.  Why are you not saddled up and walking?  In my particular case at the moment the practice pen is only open to riders who show tomorrow so I have to wait until 11:00 p.m.  This however is reality my thoughts are more figurative.

When is it time to move forward and put the things that trouble us in the past?  The obvious answer is now, but what if the arena is closed to us at the moment because its not our turn, what do we do as we sit and wait?  Clean stalls, read a book, visit with friends and call the wife. When that is done we write in a blog read another book visit with another friend, all the while doing something but not moving toward what we want we are just waiting.  But then again there is a right time for action and is it now?

I am starting to understand there is a time and a season for everything.  There is a time to practice, a time to show. There is always a time to clean stalls.  There is a time in our life we need to struggle, financially, spiritually, physically, and emotionally.  We do this so when the season for money, spirituality, health and success come we embrace them and make the most of them.  Sometimes it really sucks sitting in the bad waiting for the season of the good, but just as 11:00 will come in just under an hour so to will the good times.  The great depression created the greatest generation, I know the great recession will aid in producing another great generation if when the time comes we get in the practice pen, then give it our all in the show pen.  Life is a season for gaining wisdom; we are gaining a lot right now.  Sometimes we need to just look a little harder at how to get from the dark stalls to the light.  We all however have drew up at a certain time and when it’s our turn we will be ready, as long as we take that walk from the dark to the light.

To love and hate a truck

A couple years ago the time had come to purchase a new truck.  After a long search I found a new Ford F-450, Diesel, crew cab, 4x4 dually, for a good price.  From the start I have had a love hate relationship with the truck.  For starters the truck is white a color I hate.  The interior however is King Ranch leather with heated seats, DVD, navigation, and satellite radio all things I love.  The truck has great power, handles amazingly and the dually gives me the stability while pulling my six horse trailer, all things I love when the truck is running.  The thing I hate is the trips to the service shop and gas stations.  The truck has an exhaust system that traps particles then injects fuel into the exhaust to burn the particles to decrease emissions.  When it works the exhaust cleaning system makes it so I get about 5 miles a gallon.  When it does not work the truck shuts to half power and I have to pull over, turn it off, and hope the computer resets.  If it does not I have to take the truck to the repair shop ( 6 trips for this in just over three years.)  In addition to the poor fuel economy the strain on the engine from the exhaust clean has caused two cooling systems in the truck to crack and need replaced.  I hate the truck.

A couple months ago I had a friend tell me about an exhaust delete kit I could put on the truck.  Basically it is a chip that tells the truck's computer the exhaust is clean and replaces the muffler system with and old standard one.  I took my friends advice a week ago and put the kit in.  My truck now runs cooler and has doubled its fuel economy to 10 mpg while pulling my big six-horse trailer, and 16 mpg when just driving it around.

While driving to Houston Texas and actually passing gas stations I could not help but think of the irony in my truck and the government.  New government regulations are aiming to force car companies to improve the fuel economy in cars, while other government regulations from the EPA made my truck get 5 miles a gallon.  Things like this make me love and hate my government.

I spend my life outside working with the creations of this world.  One of my favorite things to do is pack up some horses and head into the Rocky Mountains and enjoy old growth forests and listen to the Elk bugle.  My 5-year-old son knows if we pack it in we pack it out. I want to decrease my "carbon footprint" and be a good steward of the land.  I also need to be able to afford to drive to the mountains and horse shows.

The truck shows us a solution.  If we get rid of half the government regulations we currently have and allow after market solutions to help performance through the private sector mileage improves.  If I am only slightly increasing my emissions, about 2% in this case, but decreasing my oil consumption by half we are on a good track to finding a balanced solution on how to drive my truck were I need to go and protecting the places I want to go.  With practical solutions to radical ideas we can also start to end the love hate relationship we currently have with our government.  The best part is I now just love my truck.

History and $8 fuel

The highway runs strait and the road beats its rhythm to the tune of the six tires that hold my F-450 to the road.  In tow the horses on board are passing the time while I take in the never ending white line that will take us to our destination.  We travel the great interstates and sometimes highways of a big land.  Every once in a while if I am lucky I can see the great wagon trains moving along side me or a lone Indian watching me cross his sacred home.  The whisper of a west gone by is often louder than the satellite radio that projects the country rock of Eric Church.  All this old mixed with new just keeps on trucking as another mile post passes and the hope of a great horse show waits.  The only disruption to the ride is when I stop and fuel up, currently a very painful experience to the tune of a good 150 bucks or so for 30 gallons of diesel.  As the pit stop ends I hear the voice of those who want our fuel prices to rise to the rates of Europe. I look back at the wide expanse of the western United States and ask why do we want to be Europe when we have all this?

  When I ponder this Idea of being the new Europe I must ask why are we in a hurry to be a “has been” empire? A nation sunk with dept and a spoiled young generation of entitlement who fail to produce and fail to compete and invent.  The sun now sets on the British Empire, the Spanish have had their conquests, and the French seem more interested in color coordinating their uniforms than actually fighting for anything.  Italy has produced some amazing people, art, and philosophy, but Rome is a vanished dream from two thousand years ago.  In other parts the remnants of failed communism are complemented by horse drawn plows and poverty.  Beautiful architecture is surrounded by memories of people who once worshiped Christ but now are Godless.  Islam is quietly fighting and winning its second holy crusade into Spain and France.  Germany is reminded constantly of losing two world wars as it tries to carry the Euro currency.  When I look at Europe I see what is left of greatness suppressed in history, a land of $8 fuel and history.

I am not ready to stand by and see the United States become the next England the former most powerful nation on the earth.  I will not stand by and see my children raised with the idea that we used to be a great world power; we used to be the light on the hill.  The greatest days are always before us, the next Steve Jobs is in Woodrow Wilson Elementary in small town U.S.A.  The Doctor that will cure cancer is attending Freemont Middle School, and the first person to walk the surface of mars in rolling around in a stroller in some Cody municipal park.  Somewhere in the Bible belt is a young man reading his Bible who will cry repentance to the masses, while two Mormon missionaries teach the parents of a future prophet of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.  A young girl in downtown sits at her first recital and will one day change our idea of the power of music.  In the heartland a Grandpa drives his grandson across the field that one day will be the grandsons’ way to feed the greatest nation on earth.

Our greatest days are before us I will not pay $8 a gallon so we can become something that used to be great.  We are not better than the people of Europe or anywhere else for that matter.  We are good people in America and there are good people everywhere.  We are however a nation of liberty a nation of hope.  We are an empire that makes the world better because we are good.  We should not embrace ideas that make us less than what we are. Or allow people to lead us who try to move us into the shadows of a fallen empire long betroved of royalty.  We are one nation under God with liberty and justice for all.  We cannot pay Europes gas prices because we have something here to great to become history.  Looking out the window I see a great sacrifice by those who came here and started our history, now we must continue to write it.  When future generations travel our highways may they see us on our horses and remember to keep this land free and strong, not a picture in a history book.

cities and mountains

I am used to falling asleep to crickets chirping, an occasional horse whinny and the silent sway of pasture grasses.  Tonight it’s traffic, police sirens and the noise of downtown Seattle.  The dark curtains of the hotel room on Sixth Avenue do their best to block the light; I prefer my curtinless windows of home that show the stars.  I love where I live and am very grateful for the goodness of the land my family calls home.  Such an interesting idea home, what emotions it invokes and pictures and dreams it brings to the mind.  I hear some screaming outside and wonder why would you call this wretch of a place home, the same thought the screaming person would have to the stinky horse pasture that surrounds the place I long for.

I look to the beautiful mountains that surround and dominate the skyscrapers that rest at the heart of the city. Why would you ride an elevator when your legs or better yet your horse could draw you to the tops of the peaks?  The winter has been mild but long and the mountains seem to call my name.  They are a voice of a lost lover who whispers for me to come back to those arms that cradle and vanquish the fears and worries of life.  They offer all I need, water, food, shelter and freedom.  The building out my window tonight is a prison wall to tall to escape.  Perhaps the person dancing in the window across the street fills the same way to the wild as I do to his or her city.

The voices outside my door in the hall are loud full of laughter and thoughtlessness. Far away dead Indian Creek whispers over the rocks as a fly rod tickles the air.  From the far meadow the elk breaks the evening silence with a call of authority.  While the quaking aspen play a song for the spruce pine.  Doors slam open and shut now with some running teenage voices squalling with that annoying sound they make when your kid voice is arguing with your adult voice.  Nothing like the crackle of the fire as the North Star gives way to the light show of the spinning planets of eternal time.  Interesting what we each view as fun.

Each of us is living an amazing life trying to figure it all out and to live it.  For some the time is long and well spent, for others long and wasted.  For some it is short and full for others short and empty. It sometimes is full of question and in a grand moment full of answers.  Around here it is lived very fast, at home it’s lived a lot slower.  In the end it is just lived spent and over.   I am just grateful that for me it is spent in a saddle occasionally in the mountains and always with the Lord and my family close by.  I am glad the guy across the street can live it dancing in his window.  I am also glad he has clothes and I have curtains in my hotel room.  In the end though I hope we all can just be grateful we have life.  No matter if it’s in the city, country, or somewhere in-between. No matter if it’s long or short or in the middle.  This is what we have.  I recently heard a wise man say “come what may and love it”.  I love my dear friend Kirk Young, now come what may.

broken ankles, cancer, and life.

Three years ago I sat quietly in our arena and watched one of our mares foal.  Within an hour the beautiful little sorrel filly was up and about showing of her socks and fancy moves.  I believe it took maybe two hours and she started to lope around the arena, if that’s what you wanted to call it. Watching her that morning her feet seemed to never touch the ground.  Within a few minutes of seeing her, my friends’ grandchild named her Gracie, a very fitting title.  Just a year ago it took me all of five minutes to have her saddled and moving around the arena once again, this time I was enjoying the view from her back.  Every day she is a joy to ride, she can already slide a good 15 feet effortlessly, and her flying lead changes are often undetectable to even a trained eye. Four days ago she pulled up lame on her right front foot.  Yesterday my vet confirmed all the pain and fear in my gut, she had fractured her ankle.

Ten years ago I sat at a church in Rancho Cucamonga California, waiting for a young man from Montana to arrive.  Stepping through the door was a 6’4” ranch kid, who was built stronger than the church.  His smile went from one big ear to the next, his hug was enough to crush anyone, and his laughter was just part of his normal conversation. For the next six weeks I would train him how to preach the gospel of Jesus Christ.  For the last ten years he has taught me how to live it.  No elegant sermon I have given has come close to being as powerful as his smiling humble witness of the power of the gospel.  A few days ago I was prompted to call him and see how his surgery to remove his cancer tumor had gone.  Time got away from me but last night my wife reminded me of the need.  My call was answered by the same smiling voice filled with joy.  His body was battling infection; his spin now had four tumors, his lungs three, and two on his left leg. His only negative comment was the light at the end of the tunnel seemed to be a little farther away than last time we talked.  I hung up the phone turned on the computer and started to look for a flight to Seattle to see a dying friend.

As we look into the eyes of Gracie and Kirk, something is present that is amazing to me.  Threw the light that shines out is hope, happiness, and life.  Some times in life we look too much at the cross and the crown of thorns.  We forget to peek into the empty tomb were an angle reminds us not to look for the dead when they are among the living.  So affixed on the suffering we don’t let the fire burn within us on the road to Emmaus.  So worried about the heaviness of the sand we forget we are being carried by the Christ who overcame that cross.  I have personally witnessed the prayers of faith kill cancer, and comfort those who are on final breaths. I have seen foals born to run and play and win great prizes, and seen foals laid to rest. Yesterday a vet and phone call reminded me of the pain of life.  The two suffering in that pain let me gaze at the eyes of the Savior. One set of x-rays showed a broken ankle, one phone call expanding cancer.  Yesterday I had a horse pass a vet check and bring me enough extra money to buy a flight to see a friend who is living, and treatment to a great filly.  His arms are stretched out to us still, his tender mercies are abounding.  This is life eternal to know the living God; I know Jesus Christ is alive! We had a good talk yesterday and everything is ok, he just needs my help holding a horse and a friend the next few months.  It’s amazing what you can see in the eye of a horse, and hear in the voice of a friend.

sliding stops and bumper stickers

It was that quiet time of the afternoon, when the air is calm and peaceful.  The sun was still sharing her warmth but falling softly into the caress of West Mountain.  The stalls were all clean and the fresh scent of shavings filled the barn.  I had finished my lessons for the day and it was once again just me and my horse.  We rounded the end of the arena and hit the strait line and started to build speed.  By the middle of the arena we were at a good gallop and within a few strides we reached a full run.  Just a few strides away from where I wanted to stop my horse jammed on the breaks; I jammed my back and poked him in the belly.  He then grabbed his hind end out of the dirt and leaped forward, I slammed the back of the saddle. He grabbed the bridle and then I intentionally kicked him into the fence in front of us, pulled him around a few times and off we went again. Rounding the end we hit the strait line and did the same thing all over again, and again then one more time.  Now both our kidneys hurt and the air expelling from our lungs was filled with silent anger.  I took a deeper breath then urged my horse on; we turned the corner hit the strait line and built speed.  This time I communicate well, he listens, the rhythm is perfect and when I say whoa thirty feet later the slide is over.  We came together trusted one another and got the desired result.  To perform a great sliding stop a rider and his horse must travel on a straight line, build speed, and be in sync.  When these things happen in good footing conditions the results are amazing.

Right now our country is in the quiet time of the afternoon when some amazing things can happen.  We just have to come together and insure good things do happen.  We have to stay the course of a straight line to fiscal responsibility, start with small reform and build on it, then stay in sync to the finish.  If we don’t everyone will get jammed around, hurt, and in the end be angry.  It is time to start coming together.

For the past thirty years spending by our national government has been out of control with one exception.  For a brief period in the 90’s we put together a contract with a Republican controlled congress, Democrat President, and balanced the budget.  That flat spot in the chart is beautiful, especially when compared to the skyrocket spending of the last three years.  We must balance the budget, create a fair tax system, and then have the discipline to stay the course.  No one has ever used a credit card to pay off their mortgage and gotten ahead.  The government has never given anything to us but what they have first taken it away from us.  The government cannot give us free health care, housing, food, bail outs etc...The money they spend is ours. We pay them what they give away, and they are spending more than we give them.  I will not just surrender and give them more!

 I firmly believe by small and simple things are great things brought to pass.  It starts with you, be involved, go to caucus night get people on the ballot that will stop the spending.  Get them elected in your district.  When we have a black congress again the blue President can’t shove things down our throat like healthcare reform, auto bailouts and out of control budgets. Course we would have to pass a budget if he did bother to send one, but that’s a whole nother blog.  It’s very simple we just have to be active and start to build speed.  Get the right person elected in your area and let’s have a black November.  Yes that’s right black like the numbers on a balanced checkbook.  I don’t care what party, we need people who can work within a budget, say a good housewife, business owner, accountant most everyone except a lawyer we have enough of those already.

This next thought could be dangerously honest but here we go.  Growing up I think I knew one “African American” aka black kid, she was a foreign exchange student.  I went to high school with 3500 people, I was prejudice but not racist.  In my mid twenties the Lord sent me to southern California for two years.  I actually met, talked, and worked with a lot of black people. I also met one very inspiring former White Supremacist T.J. Leyden.  As a result of this I was no longer prejudice.  Now in my mid thirties every time I hear Barak Obama talk about how everyone that disagrees with him is racist my blood boils.  When his wife goes off on how he could get shot at the gas station because he is black, it makes my blood boil.  Every time he plays the race card it sparks the fires I had put out a long time ago. Unfortunately our first HALF black president has made me more prejudice, his race propaganda is dividing.  Every time he tells me how closed minded I am because I am conservative and then in the next breath says he will not back down or compromise because his way is the only way.  The blood is so past boiling.  I am sick of the divide he strongly helps create.

The best way to help the most people is somewhere in the middle it always has been always will be.  When the founding fathers were in a fight about how many representatives for each state they came up with something called the great compromise.  We don’t need to reinvent the wheel we just need to start using it again.  The time has come to find something good and common in all of us as Americans, we need to unite.  The best place to start is within the Republican Party.  We need to stop hitting each other in the knees so we can win the gold medal and just start putting our best skaters on the ice to win first and second.  If we always disagree on when to stop we will just bounce around.  We have the power in our own little town, county, state and nation to pick a good strait line, build speed and make something great happen.  The time to start is this quiet afternoon.  Let’s figure out how we can get rid of people who divide us and replace them with ones who unite.  It is a challenge and in my case the place to start is with the hands typing the words your reading.  I hope we can stop fighting the rhythm of liberty and start sliding into happiness once again. Makes me think of my favorite sister in laws bumper sticker that says coexist.  With our current leadership neither side is willing to do that.  It’s time to stop running in circles and get some things lined out.  If we start with the finances the rest gets easier. The way to fix that is to hire responsible people who can work together this November and fire those who will not. I want a new bumper sticker that reads “Retire Hatch, Fire Obama”.  Now I just need to figure out how to fix my back after the jamming stops, feel free to send me some ideas on that.