Horse Mavericks

Part Four of the Art of Believing

I stood in my driveway with the loop of my lariat dangling from my hand.  I remembered what Lanny West had said about doubting (One of a Thousand) and what John had said about believing (Dung Beetles Reaching the Stars).  In times past, I would have respectfully disagreed with both of them.  I would have pointed out all the people I knew who had worked hard to succeed, but ended up ruined emotionally, relationally and financially. 

Some people do become movie stars, athletic wonders or billionaires.  But, statistically speaking, given any population, there were going to be a few people who would succeed.  Both the successful and the unsuccessful had worked hard.  It had more to do with luck or the whim of some Higher Power than hard work. 

While staring at the horns of the dummy and feeling the lumps of the rope between my thumb and index finger, I decided there was nothing to lose by changing my thinking.  Maybe I would never learn how to team rope, but at the very least, if I could quit doubting and getting frustrated with myself, I would have more fun.  I lifted my arm and swung another loop over my head.  I delivered and missed. 

My first reaction was to get mad and make up an excuse:  I was a busy, 34-year-old mother with two children under the age of five.  The explanation seemed reasonable.  I didn’t have time to practice because I put my family first.  In reality, I was being smug. 

Then I told myself to quit doubting, which didn’t help.  Telling myself to quit doubting proved that I doubted.  I had to try something else.  I attempted to reason myself into confidence.  I had thrown good loops in the past, which proved I was capable of roping.  I just needed to do it consistently. 

I coiled the lariat, built a loop and tried again.  I missed. 

Frustration rose inside me.  I took a deep breath and, in an effort to redirect my thinking, I repeated a simple phrase to myself–I can rope; I can rope; I can rope.  It became a mantra as I delivered the loop.   I caught the neck of the dummy. 

Better.  But I needed to add another element if I was going to keep my mind from making excuses and doubting.  Maybe I should try to focus on feeling the swing–something Lanny West had told me to do a thousand times. 

I dropped the lariat.  I circled my arm in space in an effort to mimic Lanny’s arm movement.  I did it several times to memorize the feeling. 

Then I picked up my rope, and while I swung it over my head, I focused on the feeling of the rotation.  I felt the tip of the loop as an extension of my arm.  I went for the delivery.  I caught both horns. 

Better.  But, the way in which the rope had swung under the left horn was sloppy. 

I decided to try one more thing.  In addition to the mantra and miming, I wanted to see what would happened if I visualized the entire process from the swing, to the delivery, to how the bottom of the loop hooked the right horn, then crossed the forehead, swung under the left horn and over the back of the neck.  My instincts suggested that imaging as much detail as possible was crucial.  In my mind’s eye, I not only saw myself catching the horns, but I felt the rotation of my arm and wrist, heard the swishing of the tip going through the air and the sound of the friction of the rope sliding through the hondo.  I picked up the lariat and tried again.  It was a solid catch. 

I became so engrossed in the process that I forgot to get frustrated, doubt myself or make excuses.  I was having a good time.  It was fun learning how to do something new, something challenging, something slightly daring.  I knew I would be able to team rope.  Serenity came over me and I enjoyed the sensations in my arm and body and the peace in my mind.   All the frustration and doubting quieted. 

For a brief moment in time, I experienced what Lanny West had been trying to tell me all along.  Instead of expending my energy in frustration, I channeled it into learning. Even though I was a busy, mother of two young children, I improved more in a single practice session then I had in several weeks.  There was no need for excuses.