The Check In(gine) Light Part 2

The day after the ride that had been a catalyst for annoyance rather than delight, I had an immediate opportunity to revisit all those uncomfortable feelings.

I had already decided—that day, I would ride solo. I wanted to ride Fortuna. Since the two of us are in the process of learning how to communicate and understand one another, I prefer to ride her without any distractions so I can simply be present with her.

But when I arrived at the ranch, I saw that David and Jose were also already saddled up. David would ride the Palomino stallion, Tio Oro—who happens to be the father of Fortuna—and Jose, Cappuccino.

Ooooh, I thought, the immediate temptation creeping in. How can I miss that ride?

Now, don’t get me wrong—I love riding with the boys, and many days, joining their crew is exactly what brings me delight.

So, I had to check in with myself - would I change my plan?

But on this day I had already decided - it would be Fortuna and me on a solo ride. And yet, the temptation to join them was instantaneous. It would be nine-year-old David’s first ride on Tio Oro—a big, sturdy stallion, a male horse who hasn’t been gelded and therefore can be a bit spicy.

“Are you coming riding with us?” David asked. His expression was expectant, but there was something else there, too.

“No,” I said, though a bit hesitantly, having already checked in with myself and deciding despite the pull I would stick to my plan.

“I knew it!” David grinned. “My Tio said that when you asked us to get Fortuna ready, it was a sign you wouldn’t be riding with us. You like to ride Fortuna alone.”

I was sort of surprised—and deeply relieved—to be let off the hook so easily.

“Right,” I said, trying to recover as best I could. “You guys can go on a boys’ ride, and we will go on a girls’ ride—Fortuna, me, and Pacas!”

That “Girls’ Ride”? It was an absolute delight.

We meandered our way to the trails. We crossed the river. Sometimes Fortuna suggested the route; sometimes I did. Pacas the dog was pure Pacas—running up ahead, launching herself into bushes, and splashing happily into the estuary.

We didn’t have a schedule. We didn’t have a pace to maintain. There was nowhere we had to be, and no one we had to follow, keep up with, or wait for. It was just the three of us, out on the trails, taking in the evening.

But it so easily could have gone the other way.

The moment I realized the boys’ plan, the voices had started chiming in: “Oh, I don’t want to miss David’s first real ride on Tio Oro.” “Oh, I should really get some video of him.” I could feel the distinct tug of FOMO trying to entice me to abandon my plan.

The thing was that even though I had just experienced the annoyance of the paso enfadoso the day before, and even though I had just written about the check engine light, the pull to ignore my own knowing almost caught me anyway. It almost derailed me.

It turns out that knowing what your spirit needs and actually doing it are two very different things.

We feel pulled. We feel torn. We put off what we know we need. We tell ourselves that it’s not really that big of a deal, or that we are just being “too sensitive.” We think we should just suck it up, compromise, and fit in. That is, after all, what our culture relentlessly tells us to do.

But that sensitivity to the knowing is actually our internal guidance system. It is our inner compass, as author Martha Beck puts it. It is there for a reason.

When we ignore it, we are back to taping a piece of paper over the check engine light, pretending everything is fine.

It seems strange that it should be so incredibly hard to listen to something innate. But tuning into that guidance takes intentional work. There are a million distractions to throw us off course.

We do it to ourselves, and we so easily do it to our animals, too. We often just assume our horses should listen to whatever pace we dictate, regardless of what they are feeling.

That is exactly why I have been riding Fortuna solo. Not just so she can learn to listen to me, but so I can practice listening to her. So that away from the noise and the expectations of the crowd, the two of us can find a way forward—together, in true partnership.