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Deep Freeze
January 16. 2005
We woke this morning to a sheet of ice covering everything after a night of intermittent freezing rain. The only way to get to the barn was to slide there, break the ice off the doors to get them open, and then scramble back up to the house sliding every which way like a crab. I'm very glad no one was watching my very inelegant navigation attempts. Even our poor little garden gnome sat rigid and frozen in his swing, icicles dripping from his armpits, his beard coated and extended with ice, and his nose more bulbous than ever. Stuck in a casing of ice unable to break free. The dogwood, which in three short months will be bursting with blossoms (
http://www.briarcroft.com/dogwood.htm
) is vulnerable in its ice covering as branches snap and break with the extra weight. I feel alot like that myself today.
Every so often I hit a Haflinger shaped brick wall and get stuck too, immobilized and brittle, ready to break with the least provocation. What am I doing spending so much of my shrinking leisure time, and way too much of my hard earned money on breeding, raising, training, supporting, and promoting Haflingers when there are so many other more pressing needs in the world that I could devote myself to.
When chores get particularly challenging due to harsh weather, requiring extra time and physical effort to accomplish , or I see politics in the Haflinger world rear its ugly head causing dissension and conflict, or when I acknowledge the reality of a sadly dwindling market for the babies we've put heart and soul into--I have to say, it seems like I'm eligible for a newly described psychiatric diagnosis to be still raising and promoting Haflingers after 20 long years of hard work. It could be called "Futility Disorder" or more informally the "Sisyphus Syndrome" named after the guy who keeps pushing a big rock up hill, only to have it roll back down again.
I know I'm not alone. There are quite a bunch of us who are similarly suffering. I recall a Haflingers Anonymous support group that Cathy Morris once recommended years ago on this list. "Hello, I'm Emily. I'm a Haflingerholic. I accept that I need a Higher Power to help me take control of this affliction one day at a time..."
There are very different "equine dependencies" represented in this group of Haflinger Anonymous sufferers. It is hard to design a treatment plan when we all seem to have such different types of Haflinger addictions, such as:
There are those who just can't stop themselves from producing more Haflingers--if they have a mare, she is bred, and bred again, and again. If they have a stallion, they keep him intact as he might come in useful someday. These folks are having trouble finding room for all these products of their breeding program--their barns and fields are bursting at the seams.
There are those who dearly love to buy and sell Haflingers almost like a sport. Buying a bargain is a powerful high and reselling at a profit even more so. This is the American way!! Trouble is, profits are getting harder and harder to realize.
There are those who strive to sell their horses for higher prices by creating a Haflinger indistinguishable from other breeds so that they can compete in the same market for the same buyers. Trouble is, it no longer looks or acts like a Haflinger.
There are the "winning is what counts" group who crave more ribbons, higher premiums, bigger shows, fancier trophies but our rather informal and low key Haflinger competitions in this country just are not sufficient. These unfortunate folks are in a constant state of withdrawal as our visible reward system in the Haflinger world is pretty puny.
Then there are those who can't imagine living without a daily Haflinger fix: riding and driving them, smelling their smells, cleaning their stalls, brushing out their manes, scratching their itches, tickling their noses, and reading and writing about them. It is a sad and almost incurable state. The side effects of Haflinger addiction include being stepped on, pushed around, dumped off, swished by dirty tails, and many other painful and unpleasant experiences we'd rather not confess to each other. Yet the sufferers keep coming back for more, all at once realizing their childhood dreams, celebrating their ups and downs with like-minded folks and knowing that Haflingers are part of life, as much as eating, breathing and sleeping.
After all, it's about the remarkable relationship between a human and a horse, a partnership as old as the ages. A partnership solidified in the frozen winters of the Tyrol, when the Haflinger supported the human family in every way, including providing needed warmth. It has absolutely nothing to do with the ribbons, or the inspection scores, or the price tag paid for a particular horse.
Yes, today I hit the Haflinger brick wall, but like the ice that encases the world outside my house, my feelings will soon melt, drip away drop by drop, and the warmth and understanding from my fellow sufferers will help me thaw to the point of budding, blossoming and being fruitful, not futile, again. This feeling happens every once in awhile, and thankfully, I know just the cure. It's time to do evening chores in the Haflinger barn.
Emily
http://www.briarcroft.com/emily.htm