I was a horse lover. I met this man who - I will know later - was a horse-whisperer. He was searching for a land to live with his cavalry. My parents owned a large property with fields and forests in Dordogne (South west of France). He founds a house in the close neighbourhood and we lent him spaces for his horses. From this time I spent most of my free time into the wild around horses. I could tell hundred epic stories, hundred adventures about this wild side period.
I was slim, I wasn’t not afraid, and I was quite. For this man, I was the perfect “test rider”. We received some disturbed horses and the mission was to turn them into gentle horses! He was making his stuff to communicate with these crazy creatures, and then I had to carefully ride on it.
There was this black one who never knows how to walk, he was just gallop, gallop, galloping. He has been educated in the corral but when we came out for a ride, he had some relapses. I was feeling the trigger under his skin when he was starting as a pistol’ bullet. He was big and powerful. He was galloping in a crazy race against his fear. I had to control my own, lying on his back. Trees were scrolling on our sides, brushing my head and my feet. “Calm down, get the control!”. Against a horse’ bolt strength is vain, mental is the only way out. Breathing, using your mental, and firmly use the bride, then release, grip the bride one more time and release, up to the stop.
In these events I learnt so much. I needed strength to don’t fall down. I needed to use my mind to struggle against my fear, against my partner’s fear.
