Wendy Beth Baker - Healing Power of Horses: Lessons from the Lakota Indians

Karla Austin, Business Operations Manager

Jen Dorsey, Associate Editor

Michelle Martinez, Project Manager

Rebekah Bryant, Editorial Assistant

Erin Kuechenmeister, Production Editor

Ruth Strother, Editor-at-Large

Nick Clemente, Special consultant

Book design and layout by devacommunications.com

This book combines the authors perception of Lakota culture and history with accounts set forth in the bibliography. The author does not consider herself an authority either on the Lakota tribe or on Native Americans as a whole. The Lakota people, whose narratives have been recorded and are completely verifiable, may offer a different account of their history. To avoid repetition, the terms Native American and American Indian are used interchangeably. The names of all the Special Equestrian Riding Therapy (SERT) students have been changed to protect their privacy.

Permissions to reprint previously published material appear on page 160. Additional photographs courtesy of: Roger Wilson, Burbank Leader, p. 17; Denver Public Library, Western History Collection, pp. 22, 23, 25, 97; Delores Yellow Bull, p 54; Jackie Heathershaw, p. 109.

Copyright 2004 by I-5 Press

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the prior written permission of I-5 Press, except for the inclusion of brief quotations in an acknowledged review.

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

Baker, Wendy B.

The healing power of horses / by Wendy B. Baker.

p. cm.

ISBN 1-889540-89-7 (hard cover : alk. paper)

1. Teton IndiansDomestic animals. 2. HorsesGreat PlainsHistory.

3. Horsemen and horsewomenGreat PlainsHistory. I. Title.

E99.T34B34 2004

978.0049752--dc21

2003014033

I-5 Press

A Division of I-5 Publishing, LLC

3 Burroughs

Irvine, California 92618

Printed and Bound in Singapore

10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

In memory of Darwin Bogie Carlow.

Acknowledgments

This book owes its completion to Wayne Waters, Hope Vinitsky, and Nick Clemente; my editors Ruth Strother and Michelle Martinez; and Michael McLaughlin of the American Indian Resource Center at the Huntington Park Library. I also wish to thank everyone who has encouraged me to continue riding: my hero Frank LaLoggia, Sandi Kelley, Diane Penders, Dr. Jan Tucker, Dr. Jeffrey Weisel, Nora Fischbach, Ann Berger, Glen Julian, and Nancy Wisler. In addition Id like to thank the Swicks at Wakpamni Bed & Breakfast; and I especially would like to thank David, my mother and father, and all the exceptional people of the Oglala Lakota Nation: I will always be in your gratitude. Wopila.

daybreak

appears

when

a horse

neighs

Brave Bull

PART ONE

First Words

T here are those who feel the sun rises and sets on the back of a horse, and no matter what obstacles life sets in their way, they never dismount. This describes the Oglala Lakota Indians of Pine Ridge, South Dakota.

I am one of those people, too. Despite being some of the best equestrians in the world, the Oglala Indians have had to struggle against poverty and oppression to maintain their relationship with horses. Ive had to overcome two physical traumas to continue horseback riding.

The first trauma occurred when I was ten years old and my knees swelled to the size of grapefruits. They hurt all the time. My knuckles swelled, too. Because my family lived in a medical oriented university town, my mother took me to see all sorts of specialists. She even took me to a hospital lecture hall, where I had to take center stage so that interns could ask me questions about my condition. I was finally diagnosed with juvenile rheumatoid arthritis (JRA).

The most humiliating aspect of this condition was that I had to wear corrective shoes to keep my feet from turning in. These clunky outdated shoes were the scourge of my existence. While my classmates were wearing stylish loafers, I hid my shoes by wearing rubbers over them. Despite this, the kids still pointed at my feet and laughed.

So when I wasnt in school, I stayed at home. When my friends were out riding their bikes, playing softball, or taking ballet lessons, I was at home reading. I also wrote short stories because writing was an escape from the physical pain and the loneliness. When my mother bought me a wheelchair, she also bought me a typewriter.

Occasionally, Id have to be admitted to the hospital for therapeutic treatments. Then, one day after three years, the arthritis mysteriously went into remission. But it left its calling cardmy knees had been damaged. To compensate for this, I began riding horses. And since then, Ive ridden whenever Ive had the opportunity.

The speed, grace, and power of horses give me something I feel the JRA has taken away. When I ride, I experience a state of mind that is like no other. Its an emotion rooted in another part of my beingsomething basic, primal, spiritual, relaxing, dignifying, unifying (almost like a private religion)and it cant be replaced by anything else.

After graduating college, I moved to New York City and found my niche in the publishing world. But the stress of the big city took its toll and my arthritis returned. I found a riding stable north of the city, began taking lessons, and never stoppedeven after moving to Los Angeles. In fact, horseback riding is more prevalent and accessible in L.A. than in New York. (I like to say it is the only major city in the United States where horse trailers are a common sight on the freeway!)

While in L.A., I bought my first horse. Moonshadow, a 16.1 blue roan quarter horse, was described to me by his former owner as a good packer, or trail horse. And for several months, it was nothing but bliss between us. Then the second trauma happened.

Moonshadow, a 16.1 blue roan quarter horse, was described to me as a good trail horse.

It was mid-Septembera typical Saturday full of errands and houseworkand I was fatigued from working all week. But Moonshadow needed to be ridden. By the time my chores were done and Moonshadow was saddled, it was six oclock. The sun would set around seven, leaving time for an hours ride.

I was eager to take him to new places. After we successfully completed several exercises on the mountain trails surrounding my home, we made our way along the path by the creek. The sounds of wildlife were beginning to intensify, and Moonshadow was starting to get spooky; he struggled against the reins. I could feel his energy to resist build beneath me, but I pressed on.

Suddenly, a flock of starlings burst out of the reeds, their dark wings beating the air around our heads. Moonshadow took off like a bullethis black mane flying. We zigzagged along the edge of the creek. I fell off his back, coming down on my hands and knees. There was a loud, sickening crack.