Horse Mavericks

It has been two weeks since I have seen Lanny West.  I have been waking up every morning trying to think of something to write about, but my mind is as dry as the Mojave Desert.

Lanny has a way of putting things so that they stick in my head.  I can almost hear him saying, “There are no excuses.  There’s no such thing as hot or cold or tired. If you’re gonna make it, you have to do it.”

Nonetheless, the excuses pile, one on top of the other.  Now it is Tuesday morning.  I’m just now writing something down, but the vast desert in my head seems to be extending its borders and there is no water in sight.

What does making it mean, anyway?  For me, it is writing Lanny’s biography.  It starts with research, then a rough draft of a manuscript.  To make it means gathering over a 1000 readers for this blog and publishing the book.  

Whenever I think about what I want to accomplish, a hunger rises and nags me.  It’s old and obnoxious.  I want this project to get done.  When I feel like this, one of Lanny’s stories haunts me.  

He had practiced and worked for years in order to win the Oakdale roping in 1987.  When he finally won it, he thought he would be happy.  He thought his drive would be quenched and his hunger satisfed.  Instead, when he got home and the adrenaline of the event ran dry, he lay in his bed and felt sick to his stomach.  The purpose of his life had been stripped and now what was he supposed to do with his time.

Lanny is telling the truth when he says there is no such thing as excuses if I want to make it.  Excuses are like pissing in the dry desert wind.  I am just gonna get all wet.

But when I make it and the book is published, if my experience with success will be anything like Lanny’s, there will be nothing but this same desert of emptiness to negotiate–the same desert I am in right now.

It begs the question:  Is all this striving and trying worth it?  After all, once I reach the goal, get paid and the glow of prestige fades, then what?  More of the same?  So why continue?  Why keep trying?

A vision of Lanny pops into my mind:  He is in his barn with a loop dangling from his right hand the coils in his left.  He has a faraway look in his eyes, but he is staring at the horns of a roping dummy a few feet away from him.  Energy gathers in his muscles, he takes a deep breath and the loop slices through the air with each rotation.  He delivers it.  It catches the right horn, swings under the left and I can hear the sound of a snap and the friction of rope sliding through the hondo as he pulls it taut.  A smile brightens his face.  

“When you rope,” he says, “you have to learn to stay in the moment.”  In other words, be focused.  Don’t think about anything else, concentrate.  ”There is no better feeling in the world than staying in the moment.”

“What you’re good at,” I say, “isn’t just how to rope.  What you are good at is getting in the moment.  That’s what makes the difference between a good roper and an exceptional roper.”

“That’s exactly right,” he says.

In the end, the state-of-mind, which helps us reach our goals and be great at whatever it is we do, is the same state-of-mind which helps us be content.  We must learn to concentrate and enjoy what the moment has to offer.  

Suddenly the desert, which is dominating my imagination, comes alive.  I can see the contorted cacti; the roadrunners and the lizards scurrying across the sand.  Then I think about how beautiful the landscape is after a wet thunderstorm.  Flowers peek through the sand.  Cacti bloom in bright reds and yellows.  Joshua Trees display a bouquet of white.

Lanny West is right once again.  There is no better feeling in the world than staying the moment.  The reason I keep writing is because it just feels good.

Photo by ChuckthePhotographer