Dizziness. The sun stabs my scalp and causes flashes to flare up on my retina. Right now I can still get to safety before I land between the hooves of the two ponies. They have been fighting each other for just ten seconds, but a kick is a kick and fucking hurts. I yell at the ponies, but they don't respond. So I save myself like a thrown-dropped rodeo rider to the other side of the gate and can't withstand the erupting tear flow.325Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ7DlrUuq9SV
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End. Sense. Nothing anymore.
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Life up here in northern Germany is so fantastic. Meadow, forest, field, air. My berth is located 15 meters as the crow flies from the horse stables, the riding lessons and food as well as lodging are free and stables, riding and teaching children on the lunge is part of my daily work. I am currently fulfilling a girl's dream with my beloved four-legged friends of all imaginable sizes.
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How can I suddenly be afraid of horses? Or more importantly: How do I get rid of this panic fear?
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It is not a mood and also not a moment state. It is a grueling fact that has been creeping in for a few days. And I can't do anything about it.
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The sad fact that I have to cancel the internship, I inform my boss a few hours later. The next day I will travel home.
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Too much thinking blocked. But sometimes it can also be very useful. Just like now.
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I look out of the train window and watch the wind turbines passing by in the fields and meadows.
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When, how and where did my personal horse story begin?
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At the age of four, I sat on a horseback for the first time, at the Christmas market while pony riding. My pony had torn loose and we were now free in the arena. I was scared in panic because I feared that the pony could jump over the gang with me and run through the city center.
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In a mixture of fascination, excessive respect and passion for these graceful creatures, I had my first riding lesson at the lunge at the age of seven and cultivated my hobby every Friday after school. Western movies, hobby horses, Barbie horses and Wendy comics complemented my luck, but could not replace the high feeling of actual riding. During my studies in Berlin, only the carriages in front of the Brandenburg Gate and occasional heaps of horses on the street asphalt reminded my four-legged friends, and so I was happy to be able to move back to the country after my studies and ride again. But I wanted more.
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Looking for an extended riding holiday, I came across the advertisement for an internship in northern Germany on a pony farm.
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And now? A life without horses?
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Impossible!
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Distance?
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Probably.
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Going for a pony walk?
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I lean back in my train seat, close my eyes and take a deep breath.
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My plan is not a plan. And that feels damn good right now.
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I haven't lost anything and can start again. Where, how and when I want.
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And maybe this time I'll exchange the English riding style I'm used to for a western saddle.
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