he affectionate young mare definitely had a stubborn streak, but I was convinced that she would respond to a gentle, patient, firm approach. I had agreed to help Dad with the young bay he called Lady.

Lady had responded well to Dad's training, and her badly cut, left front leg was healed enough to allow for a rider. She saddled up easily enough as we re-assured her with soothing talk and affectionate rubs and pats in all the right places. She tensed up as we tightened the cinch, but she remained cooperative.

I must have wondered once again, as I often have, why these big, powerful animals generally allow us so much control over them. Is it out of ignorance of their own might, or is it an inbred attitude of cooperation? Is it from an intelligent realization that life will be better for them if they work with the human? In part, maybe it includes a respect for and devotion to humans.

The party began as soon as I swung into the saddle. I was the rusty one and in short order felt fortunate to land on my feet following her last successful buck. At that point, beyond all reason, good or bad, the will to win took over, for each of us I suppose. I climbed into the saddle again, with renewed resolve and reviving savvy from experience decades removed.

Of course, with a saddle, I had the advantage over Lady; in addition, a bridle allowed me to keep her head up, somewhat. She finally settled down, reluctantly moving forward at my urging, but she maintained the tense feel of a powder keg between my legs, ready to explode upon sufficient provocation. After a few turns around the corral, Lady started to relax. Riding her into a small pasture, I tested her willingness to stop, go, and turn in response to the reins and bit.

When I attempted to take her through an open gate into a much bigger pasture, she balked. As my urgings became more forceful, her resistance became more intense. It was time to emphasize firmness. I requested a small whip and used it convincingly, I thought, but it only made her more crazy with every lash. Lady would not go into the bigger pasture. She brought back memories of Rebel, my horse as a boy. Raised in cougar country as a colt, Rebel's imagination rivaled that of any English teacher I had experienced; especially on our long, moonlit night rides in the mountains. There had been places he simply refused to go or insisted on giving wide berth.

A fear of cougars seemed unjustified here in the pasture. I saw absolutely nothing for Lady to fear. Baffled by her recalcitrance, I realized I could draw blood, or yield. I contented myself with another short ride in the smaller pasture before we unsaddled her.



Shortly thereafter, a veterinarian informed Dad that Lady was blind. I realized then that she could probably see the fence posts but not the wire. She had good reason to fear the unknown. At this gate, or another, she may have once experienced the horrors of the unseen barbed wire. I knew little of her history. Whatever her reasons, suddenly I lamented having tortured her with my determination to go through a gate she clearly dreaded.

As an apostate who at times musters greater passion than compassion, I sometimes yearn for the whip to drive the point home to those who will not budge from their illusions. With Lady, I could easily acquiesce; entering the big pasture was not really important. Likewise, without comment, I generally allow people to go their own way with their convictions. However, some misguided beliefs unfairly castigate others, discourage reason on critical social issues, or severely polarize families, communities, and nations.

For these reasons and more, I will continue to speak out against some ill-founded persuasions. If motivated by more than the love for a good fight, I can find a constructive way to champion reality. Clearly, it involves respecting the unrecognized fears and blind spots of the deluded.

If I keep reminding myself, I might internalize the lesson of the blind mare I once tortured. Hopefully, if or when I am deluded, I will be treated with as much civility, toward a better conclusion.