Just a Facebook note I wanted to transfer to my skeletonesque blog...
Yeah.. and I just spent like three full hours in Seoul traffic-- something that has convinced me that my childhood desire to never EVER come CLOSE to living in the city was smarter than I knew at the time...
Anyone who knows me knows I'm a bit music-crazy. When I get new music that speaks to me, I listen to it for days and days, just sinking into it-- letting it draw me into what I think the artist is trying to convey. I love many genres of music, but country is of course my first love. Well, I was given some brilliant new (to me) country tunes last week, and they got me feeling all squishy and alive again... So I rolled down the windows and sang along at the top of my lungs... with 8 million Koreans honking and cursing at me in Hangul-- and I'll be damned if that sound didn't take me somewhere that felt alot better than Songnam... So this is just a pretty rough ramble, if you're bored enough, get a beer and read on... :P
So-- this is what I thought about while I was performing badly in traffic:
The circles I ran in growing up were rough n tough-- not really allowing for a ton of touchy-feeley gooey stuff, but I loved my life: horses, cowboys, rodeos-- God, it was amazing.I knew I was lucky.
I had a ton of alone time when I was training for Karin-- often times I'd get to work after I ditched school (haha) and find a list of horses she wanted me to work-- so a ton of it was just me and them. Those were probably the best thinking times I've ever had.
I remember being in the round pen for HOURS talking to those ponies about men, heartbreaks, death, love, how mad I was at my parents lol, or what twirps those roughstock guys were. They always seemed to know what to do to cheer me up, though. so when I think "formative' years in regards to myself-- it was without a doubt that time in my life. Sometimes late at night, I'll lay down and remember the smell of horse-dust and sweat, the wind blowing through tumbleweeds (not just a clever line to a good song), and the sound of hooves hitting the soft dirt.Lord how I miss that.
One thing that I determined at that time from my own studies of the human condition, was that there was no way city folks would ever be able to understand or even contemplate the deeper meanings of life. LOL Sounds pretty silly, but I was pretty judgmental at the time-- so conclusions like that were easy to come by.. But when you think about it-- there are a ton of things that I think people tend to dismiss-- small things are considered incidental and unimportant-- insignificant and unnoticed by so many people in the world.
The joy and bond I felt, for instance, whenever the work I was doing with a young horse paid off-- when he gave in just a little to my asking him to open a gate, side-pass, change a lead, hell even changing his gait with my prompting on a lead line.
My horse Brodie, turning to look back at me as if to say I was crazy to be apprehensive the first time I hopped on him. Of course he wasn't going to try to kill me-- I'm his mom, and he trusted me. Moments like that just got to me-- and I was on the very fringe of that lifestyle. I grew up in town-- I had to kick and scream to immerse myself in the things I loved... So I knew that the whole contingent of *actual* country folks got this concept even more so than myself.
Rodeo was another refuge for my soul-- I loved being around it-- I loved the meeting of worlds where sports met country-- generally with people of similar backgrounds who understood all too well that pain was sometimes necessary for victory. The comradary that goes along with it was always so touching for a gal to be witness to. The first time JD asked me to flank bulls at an exhibition rodeo I about died of happiness-- knowing I was playing a small part in this game I loved so much. It didn't even bother me when some guy with the production staff came over and tried to kick me off teh chutes-- not knowing I was supposed to be up there-- and watching his eyes get big as the local legend Don McGurvin (RIP), one of the surliest old cowboys I'd ever met, marched up to him and told him exactly where he could stick it if he ever disrespected "this little lady" again...
It always amazed me how intelligent these folks were-- something they will NEVER get credit for in the rest of the world--where its a common joke to call someone who's not that bright a "rodeo clown". But those of us who know have never seen harder working, harder playing, and often more profoundly poetic people in our lives.
I wanted to be a part of that world forever. I still do. But my life has taken me places that are so far away that it feels like a different life. The first giant move was to the "dirty" south-- but I've also met people from all over the world. My views of city folks are ever-changing, and I try very hard not to paint them all with the same brush. But what do they think of us? What do they think when they see the slight difference in dress, or the way we carry ourselves? Or how we don't wrinkle our noses at every slight smell of manure and complain.
I've met a ton of city folks who really honestly think that country people suffer from some sort of life-ignorance that is to be pitied and scorned. They often hear even what state I'm from/went to school in-- and immediately ask ridiculous questions like do we have internet in Wyoming... or running water (I wish I was joking). Some of the more cunning ones pretend to find our lovely homes "quaint"-- but snap judgments of naivete and backwardness are pretty common. They think that we must have grown up sheltered and miserable if we didn't have giant cities in skate-boarding distance at our disposal-- often it doesn't occur to them that we might not have WANTED to be close to the city...
Since leaving the west, I've also met a lot of city people whom I dearly dearly love, and who are great friends. Some have even opened my eyes to new blessings in life--things I didn't notice before-- and I am thankful to know them.Some really envy us-- but I think those ones have a little country in their souls as well, and I always try to help them get a little taste of it if I can...
That life will always be a part of me, and I know only those who have had similar experiences can really understand.
I'm grateful that I did let myself leave those places I hold so dear, if only because now I know how truly special they are.
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