Dancing With Life, A Balancing Act....

[~Sam~]

Looking down at my booted ankle, to watch, as the lounge line played out around it with a high pitched whine, I felt inside, a new level of calm. Then, glancing up at my horse who was moving away from me at a full tilt gallop and was still attached to the other end of that lounge line, I thought to myself with the scariest inner calm I have ever experienced in my life… “I’m going to die.”

Many different, immediate futures passed through my mind as I stood there watching that line play out. For one; my hip would be pulled from its socket. Raven was heading for the dead tree pile and there were all kinds of things that I could be ripped apart with and bashed against. If that line tangled at the end of itself, I would be dragged behind this galloping horse until he tired himself and I was long dead. Thank goodness that my life’s lessons don’t come that hard these days.

The line reached its end and whipped free from my ankle. I didn’t even say “Phew!” to myself. I simply stood there and watched as Raven dragged the 50 ft., red braided cotton line after him as he went into the most beautiful 4 beat gait I’ve ever seen.

He was on his second lap around the pasture when he looked me straight in eye and decided to charge me. As he bore down on me, still in a gallop, I reacted instinctively… I raised my arms above my head, to make myself bigger, waved them like a mad woman, and I charged him head on. Doing as expected, he swerved about 10 feet away from me and continued on past me in a dead run. When he came around the backside of the woodpile, he glared at me again and I knew he would charge. I slowly bent down to pick up my whip, stood up straight again, and as he bore down on me I opened a door for him to pass me by with my left arm, while making a “move on by” cue with the right hand held whip. As he went by I gave him a tap on the flank and walked for the gate.

Raven had slowed to a running walk now and beat me to the gate where he stopped and turned to face me, panting. The lounge line was straight out toward me, and I figured out my next move. Stooping in slow motion, I picked up the end and very slowly stood up. By now, I had his full attention so I began to loop the line. “Come on in.” I whispered, “Come on in… that’s a good boy, come on in.”

Halting at the proper 10 foot distance from me, Raven stood blowing like only a horse can. I approached him from the side, whispering all the while, and put my hand up to stroke his neck and calm him. He finally lowered his head in cooperation, licking his lips together in a sign of submission. “Good Fellow, good fellow… Now, tell me what that was all about.”

About this time, Kenny returned home from the store to find me changing the lounge line over for the 9 foot lead rope. I waved to Ken, and signaled that I’d be a minute, for I wanted to walk Raven around the pasture to establish some communication before I opened the gate and led him back to the barn.

So, we walked. Around and around the pasture. Me dragging my feet like a person dying of thirst in the desert, until I knew that my horse was giving me his full attention, not swatting at flies, or spooking at some imagined boogie man. He did finally lower his neck and slowed his walk to match my snail’s pace. I noticed that he had his ear on me and was watching my moves with a focused eye, so we walked to the gate, I opened it, and led him up to the barn and then into his stall.

Closing the mesh gate across his stall door opening, I turned to Ken and asked if he’d like to go inside and have a drink and listen to a real good lesson that I had just now learned.


Continued below….

[~Sam~]

Now, for those of you who don’t know what a lounge line is… it is a 30 foot or a 50 foot line, made out of woven cotton or nylon strap with a bull clip on one end to attach to the horses halter and a plastic disk on the hand end so that the end of the line doesn’t play out of your hand.. It’s used to exercise a horse to ‘supple’ him up before you ride or show in an arena. Also, the lounge line is used to establish close communication with the animal.


One works the animal in ever widening circles, first at a walk, then a canter. Or, if the animal is green broke like mine, at the gait the animal itself chooses. You can correct acting-out up to a certain point, then it’s best to ‘let go’ the line. I did that. Only I hadn’t noticed that I had dropped about 30 feet of the line, and as I turned in place on my leading foot to impulse Raven around me in a circle, the line had wrapped itself around that ankle.

You can bet your sweet whatever that I will not drop those loops of line again. Matter of fact, the scene, as it unfolded, made me very aware that I Always have to be focused with purpose of moves I was asking of Raven, aware of the immediate actions and body language of myself and the horse, and be ready to act to correct and reward behavior on the count of three.

What has this to do with Balance you ask? Well, several things…

First is; “How do you manage domesticated animals in a barnyard setting?” “How do you get the goat, cow, sheep, or horse to do the things and move in a way that goes with the chore at hand?” In other words, who should I be to gain the respect and trust of the animals in my charge?

I’ve tried just about every aspect of my personality out on these critters who live in my barn.

Some work in some circumstances, while others work in different instances.

I’ve been soft and sweet, offered treats, and I've allowed myself be rubbed against thereby surrendering my “personal space”.


I’ve been loud and aggressive when necessary, only to have some questionable looks be thrown my way when I need to collect an individual.

I have some people telling me that I have to establish dominance, and others who tell me that cooperation and free choice is the thing to do.

Honestly… Sometimes I feel like a Ping-Pong Ball around here. But living with the animals has been teaching me more of the lessons that I need to learn this time around. And you know what? I’m finding that I need to learn a whole lot. This puts a smile on my face, because… The thing that I love most about this life IS the learning.

And as I sat last night, listening to the pouring rain and thunder, I asked myself, “Just exactly, What is balance?”

Quite a few people will say to you; “You have to have balance in order to live peacefully.” And they say it in such a way as to make you think they know what They're talking about. You ask; “What is balance, and how do I achieve it?” But not one of those people has ever described Balance in a way that I could understand… much less how to go about achieving this ethereal state of being.

So, I’m thinking about the way the world spins, and about all the creatures who walk, crawl, fly and swim upon it. Is any living being consistent in their behavior and reactions to their surroundings? Not as far as I’ve been able to observe, and believe me I’ve watched life... a lot.

Everyone of us, mammals, insects, fish and birds, have many different aspects to their personalities. We all need a center of balance to stand upright two legs or to move fluidly on all fours, sixes, and eights… what have you. But to be balanced within and without?

Just think about this; If we achieve that Perfect center of balance… or what many mistake as the way to be… calm, relaxed, breathing deeply, not letting anything bother us… All The Time... We’d be lopsided. We’d go into a space wobble and veer off into the outer reaches of the universes.

I suppose, that if you find yourself on a mountaintop, or in a monastery where everything is peaceful and quiet, you’d have no problem reaching nirvana.

But life ain’t like that. No it’s not. Life in the wilds is not easy or friendly… it’s a matter of survival, pure and simple. If you are a prey animal, the big picture is not paid any attention to unless there comes the “hard look” of a predator lying in wait for a meal. If you’re a predator, you have to think like the prey when you’re hunting, but you have to be able think ahead also. I would hazard a guess that if you’re omnivorous you would have both survival instincts to work with.

We live in world where everything is moving, where everything is changing… sometimes in imperceptible ways. If we drive a car, we have to be aware of other drivers, road conditions, and traffic hazards. If we deal with other humans in the workplace or the supermarket, we have to be aware of how they react to us, friend or foe in other words. If everyone and every creature were living in a constant state of nirvana, Everything would stop. Nothing would move, nothing would change, and life would end. Change is the way of the Cosmos. To remove yourself from the reality of the life you’re living in, and seek to exist in a permanent state of inner peace, well, in my opinion… that would be disastrous.

So what have I come to find is meant by Balance?


Continued below….

[rubymontana]

Oh Sam....you really made me think too hard this morning!!!! That is some gorgeous creature you have there....but then again I am partial to horses. My saddlebred used to psyce out my husband when he would go down to the barn to change water or feed for me. He would come at him in a flat out gallop and stop just short of bowling him over....that was too damn funny. They really do have a beautiful mind. I learned a lesson too, just recently while out walking my little 135 pound dane puppy....NEVER put your hand inside the loop at the end of a leash. He spotted the squirrel across the way and decided it would be such fun to chase it. Well.after digging gravel out of my knees and elbows, I went to the doctor to see if my wrist was broken. Only a bad sprain, and VERY painful, I now type one handed. AH. the beasts we choose to love, they refuse to be tamed completely. But then, don't we? Ruby

[~Sam~]

Understanding that I have, within myself, all of life’s contradictions and opposite qualities that can be named, I have to accept them… temper them, find a way to express them without hurting myself firstly, and others secondly. This helps me to understand the ways of other living creatures, human and not.

If I’m involved in an interactive situation, I begin to recognize how I react of other’s behavior. I think of how my actions will affect the situation for the better and for the worse, and I choose the action, almost instantaneously, to bring about the result that I most wish to have happen. That instantaneous choice is mine alone to make.

In making choices like this, we become creators of our own worlds. It is the only way in which we are individuals, by the choices that we make at the diversions of the path we find ourselves on.

All else has been thought of, written down, painted, played as music, and acted-out in the millions of times. The only thing that makes us individuals, are the decisions and choices we make at those crossroads. There are many choices, many crossroads, and many outside influences.

In thinking such, I have come to believe that Balance is a Dance. A dance of life. A give and take, a moving forward and a moving back, towards and away from.

Sometimes we’re sweet, sometimes we’re sour. Many times we’re, what others call, good. Many times bad. We find ourselves feeling up when things are going smoothly, and then we find ourselves feeling down with no apparent rhyme or reason. I don’t think that any of us can be just “one way”.

So to be balanced, in a constantly changing and moving world, we have to see that we hold all probabilities within us. How we are, in a given set of circumstances, changes the future, certainly. But we must be honest with ourselves and use all the diverse tools of emotions and actions we have been given to keep our balance in this dance of life.

Life to me is, a balancing act, a constant state of mental and emotional awareness of my surroundings which help me to survive. For to survive is to live another day. To live another day is to learn the lessons of life as they are presented to me.

Me. In the center of myself. But I have a right and a left side too, don’t I?… There is “In” and “Out” too. (as in; In to the center of the earth, and Out into the Cosmos.) I am like as to a dust mote that is acted upon by the forces of said Cosmos, and which one of my dualities I decide to use when those forces bump and move me is where that balancing act comes to fore.

These dualities of mine; good and bad, mean and kind, gentle or aggressive, Can be tempered with and by experience. This makes changes a little easier to bear. They might also bring things into a kind of consistency. Consistency is looked for as a positive in the personality. But in the realms of chaos, symmetry and order… consistency becomes predictability and predictability becomes eventual extinction. Nature doesn’t like order, order stagnates… but in stagnancy, other life forms begin to breed and thrive from the death of order.

I’ll leave it for now. I have to go out and Dance the Dance of Life. Slow or fast, I hope your Dance of Life today is a good one.

Sam

[~Sam~]

Oh Sam....you really made me think too hard this morning!!!! That is some gorgeous creature you have there....but then again I am partial to horses. My saddlebred used to psyce out my husband when he would go down to the barn to change water or feed for me. He would come at him in a flat out gallop and stop just short of bowling him over....that was too damn funny. They really do have a beautiful mind. I learned a lesson too, just recently while out walking my little 135 pound dane puppy....NEVER put your hand inside the loop at the end of a leash. He spotted the squirrel across the way and decided it would be such fun to chase it. Well.after digging gravel out of my knees and elbows, I went to the doctor to see if my wrist was broken. Only a bad sprain, and VERY painful, I now type one handed. AH. the beasts we choose to love, they refuse to be tamed completely. But then, don't we? RubyI'm glad your lesson didn't come too hard either, Ruby! And I'm sorry you sprained your wrist and had to dig the gravel out in such a fashion. Yup, there's no chance to "let go" the leash when the loop's around your wrist. Makes you think about the things we do and take for granted, don't it?

Raven has done that to Ken several times since he's been in our barn. I think that he has a sense of humor that can't be beat... and I just read something on a horsekeeping site that said; "Beware the horse with a sense of humor." Hmmmmmmmmmm.

And finding the way to dance with this horse is a true balancing act in the way of taming the savage beast... I wouldn't want to do that, Ever. but I have to learn how to work with him safely. Ken told me that he found that out about me 28 years ago and has learned to use a loose rein and a light touch. Bless the man who allows you to make your own mistakes and counsels you after the battle is won or lost. I do...

Have a Good One, Ruby,

Sam

[Southernman]

HiHi, well done Raven, exactly what this lady needs. Rust never sleeps.

And Sam, you're kidding us by telling, that the difference between your paradise and a mountaintop or a monastery, where everything is peaceful and quiet, is to big for reaching nirvana or whatever.


Do Jodo, I'm shure, Raven will be surprised.http://hipforums.com/forums/images/icons/newicons/icon19.gif
http://www.judoinfo.com/star.gifPrinciples and Goals of Judohttp://www.judoinfo.com/star.gif

Judo, which is translated as the "gentle way", teaches the principle of flexibility in the application of technique. This is the flexible or efficient use of balance, leverage, and movement in the performance of Judo throws and other skills. Skill, technique and timing, rather than the use of brute strength, are the essential ingredients for success in Judo. For example, in Judo classes you may learn how to give way, rather than use force, to overcome a stronger opponent.


JudoInfo Online Dojo (http://www.judoinfo.com/)

[~Sam~]

Hi Ya, Southernman!

Well, this old lady can move quickly when necessary... but brute strength? I can haul a 170 lb goat around, no problem. Not, and I repeat, Not a 1,000 lb horsey.

I like the principles of Judo. Balance in form and function. The lessons that I've been taking from a woman who's been training Rocky Mountain Horses for more than 30 years are quite like what you described. The only difference with dealing with a horse, is that they are always testing the bounds of leadership. Raven figured he had me pegged for a push over. I'm in the slow process of removing his initial figuring.

Nirvana, as described by many, is not a bad place to get to, as a respite. Remaining there constantly is where I think the danger to self lies. Shoot, my brain is chocolate pudding now. Imagine if I were to become a permanently spaced out loony-tune.

And this place ain't Ozzie and Harriet, Man. There's all kinds of things going on all the time. Just when I think I have it all together, and everyone is copacetic... things, people and critters show me a new turn of the wheel. I'm wearing Commander Cody out, poor puppy. He dogs my heels all day long. From here to the barn, and back again... many times. Out to the field, down to the stream, over to the guest house... And then there was Joline, an Alpine/Nubian cross, who came into heat this weekend. Nubians, a breed of dairy goat, have The most nerve shattering yell you've ever tolerated temporarily... the heat cycle lasts for 2 or 3 days, and returns every 15 to 18 days. I was ready to take her to the Sale Barn today. Like I said, this ain't Ozzie and Harriet... nor is it Black Beauty...

I guess what I was trying to say was that if you are alone on the top of a mountain, or you have some snowed under guru spouting platitudes at you all day, you might just convince yourself that Nirvana is the place to live. 'Cause in nirvana, nothing is alive but the "Tingle" of your energy. And if you feel the connection to the oneness in that state it's nice. But it isn't a real way to live the life you've been given to live here on this earth.

I'm gonna check out that Ju Jitzu site now... Thanks Juergen.

Sam

[Southernman]

Hi Sam,

most people on this earth would think they have reached allready nirwana, if they could have this, what you have day for day, even if it's combined with a lot of work and sometimes the sound of small fury animals. Thank god, that you never heart me playing on my synthesisers.http://www.hipforums.com/forums/images/icons/newicons/icon16.gif
By this Judo-thing I thought more on the defensive part, the art of falling down without getting knocked out or being heavy injured like in your thoughts than on brute strength. Sam and Raven, les cascadeures de les foretes (the stunt-team out of the woods) sounds fine, isn't it?
I'm shure, you'll manage it, Raven accepts you allready more than you think. Listen to your feeling, not only on that, what could happen, if Raven does this or does that. And mostly you do this allready, as far, as I can check it over the distance.

Wish you all a fine time,
Juergen

[~Sam~]

Speaking of synthesizers, Southernman... There's a CD I've been thinking of recommending to you. It's a combination of old Psychedelic music from the 60's and Hungarian Folk music. I love it. The group is a young band of Hungarians, and the CD is called:

Korai Orom, Sounds & Vision I think it's available at www.korai.hu (http://www.korai.hu)

Man... these guys Really Cook. I find myself dancing all around the house to their music as I'm doing my work.

I was wondering why you were cheering for Raven to horsedrag me... things are so easy to misunderstand. So.... Yes! I think learning to fall and weave and dodge to keep from getting hurt is the way to go...

Also! I am speaking to a man from Finland who is married to a Magyar woman. She has relatives in Hungary who raise the original breed of Steppes Cattle. I've purchased a Bow Quiver and Arrow Quiver made from their hides... the leather work and lacing are done so well nothing in this country from the Native Americans can compare to the workmanship. I also bought a Hungarian recurve bow, made in the traditional way dating back to the Scythians.

I'm glad you spoke to me today, because I want to find out how the Magyar Horsemen (csikos) train their horses. I find a lot of information about the Tourist trade and tours to Hortobagy-Village to see the Puszta Five being worked. My Grandfather was a csikos before he came to this country in 1904. He worked for a Baron on the Estate. After the Baron died, my grandfather went back to claim some land that was left to him, and gave it to my Great Grandmother.

Mentioning "les cascadeures de les foretes" reminded me that I would love to purchase the tradition cattle working whips that the csikos use. Would also like to train Raven to carry me well enough so that I can shoot my bow from his back at a gallop. And... to do the tricks that the csikos are so pround of. Wouldn't that be grand? To be able to connect with my roots in this way?

And thank you for telling me to look around at the wonders which surround me here.

A Fine, Fine, Super Fine Day to You Too,
Sam

[~Sam~]

http://www.onlyhorsespictures.com/images/a-z/h/hungarian%20horseman%20riding%205%20horses.jpgRidi ng The Puszta 5

Hungarian Csikos
by Jasper Winn

In the dusk we heard the distant snare-drum roll of hooves. A herd on the horizon galloped towards where we stood by a water-crane, a barn and a small hut...

In another lifetime, I was a travelling musician playing ragtime and swing songs in obscure corners of Europe. My act was billed, when it was billed at all, as 'songs about chickens, cowboys and Jesus,' thereby, in one fell swoop, intriguing, warning and offending any potential audiences. The songs about cowboys were about as close as I got to fooling with horses for nigh on five years - until my guitar playing road-buddy Elijah and I got to Hungary, still behind the Iron Curtain at the end of the 1980s.

For reasons to do with economics, glorious autumn weather, ('an old woman's summer' they called it in Magyar), and a half-hearted search for adventures, we found ourselves on a four day walk across the east of the country, guitars slung over our shoulders, sleeping in orchards, and stopping to drink with Gypsies, farm hands and old cavalry officers. We got to the puszta - the Hungarian Plains - late one afternoon, and strode into the flat-as-water grasslands. It was so flat that if you had good eyesight you could look into the far distance and see the back of your own head. We were in the homeland of one of the three distinct types of csikos, the traditional Hungarian horse herders whose unique style of horsemanship and fierce code of independence are as much the spiritual embodiment of the Hungarian, as the cowboy is of the American. As they had done for centuries, the csikos still grazed their horses loose across the plains.

In the dusk we heard the distant snare-drum roll of hooves. A herd on the horizon galloped towards where we stood by a water-crane, a barn and a small hut. A quartet of csikos - whips popping like revolvers, stretched along their galloping horses' necks, culotte-like riding trousers flapping, hats pulled low - rode the herd's flanks, turning the horses in a stream across the plains, and milling them to a halt in front of the long, thatched barn. The herd was coralled for the night. The csikos dismounted. Seeing out guitars they called out greetings. One mounted again and rode off to fetch a bottle of palinka from the stud. Another tumbled out pockets full of wild mushrooms. A third lit a fire in the reed-walled windbreak.

I went over to look at the 'saddle-horses'...or more correctly the 'girthless-pad-horses.' Each had a felt square, edges bound in leather, simple stirrups dangling - but there was nothing in the way of a girth to tie the pad onto the horse. A csikos gestured at one of the animals, suggesting I gave it a go. Grabbing a handful of mane, I vaulted on. "Nem! Nem! Nem!" I was admonished; that wasn't the csikos way. The correct method was to mount using the stirrup, stretching one's right arm over to the other side of the horse to hook one's thumb into a ring and hold the saddle in place. Sacrificing elegance to success, I managed to get on top of the horse with the pad, approximately, between us both. Being on a horse again, in Hungary, made sense. And if chickens and Jesus had little to do with cantering across the puszta, it was certainly a time for cowboy songs.

We sat late into the night singing, drinking, eating fried mushrooms and stretching a dozen or so words of Magyar into stop-start conversation about horses, whips and dancing. Somehow one of the csikos managed to work those same meagre words, fleshed out with a bit of finger-counting and some mime, into a description of the 'puszta otos' - 'the Great Plains five.' Simply put the 'puszta otos' involved a csikos standing on the rumps of two horses and driving three more before him at a full gallop. As 'Roman riding' it's a trick practiced in circuses and rodeos across the world, but the Hungarians have raised it to an art form, and made it their own expression of ecstatic horsemanship. The image stayed with me long after I left Hungary.

The csikos are descendants of the Magyar horse tribes who settled in the Carpathian basin some thousand years ago. The Magyars were bowmen and light cavalry experts from the Asian steppes, and their horses were mostly the Turkmen type. It was they who were at the root of Hungary's great horse traditions. From their fast, lightly equipped mounted warriors, evolved the hussars of the 18th and 19th centuries, who in turn became the template for light cavalry the world over.

The dead flat expanse of the plains encouraged the development of ever more refined horse-drawn vehicles (indeed the word 'coach' is claimed to come from the name of the village of Kocs famed for its cart and wagon builders), and experiments with harness systems and arrangements of horses - pairs, teams, tandems, unicorns, five-in-hands - anticipated developments in other countries and made Hungary a primary player in competitive carriage driving as it still is today.

The third strand of horsemanship came in the form of the csikos and betyars. As an uneasy peace descended on the plains, the region became famed for its lyre-horned white cattle, its spiral-horned raki sheep, an Alice in Wonderland type of Mongol pig with pelts of long, curly blonde hair, and of course horses. Oriental Arabs, Thoroughbreds and half-bloods were imported and then bred into a plethora of Hungarian breeds.

The csikos were the hired horse herders whose clothes, riding style and equipment reflected a life spent accompanying the free-grazing horses across the puszta. Csikos spent days and nights with one catch-horses always bridled and to hand, ready to ride down strays and stampedes. Their saddles were girth-less and simple so they could be thrown onto a horse's back and mounted within seconds; the csikos of the Bugas region sped things up even more by always riding bareback. Perhaps it was the boredom of long hours alone that motivated the horsemen to teach their saddle horses ridiculous tricks, but the csikos claim a practical purpose for each. Whatever the case, the csikos became a by-word for superbly trained horses, and seat-of-the-breeches riding skills.

In the mid 1800s an Austrian artist, (and a man after my own heart), Adam Koch, painted his vision of the csikos spirit - a horseman so at one with his horses that he could float above five of them, effortlessly surfing a wave of pure horse energy, in the 'puszta otos.' Perhaps he had actually seen it performed, but legend credits the image to his romantic imagination, and claims that it was only a century later in the 1950s that a csikos in the Bugas finally managed to perfect the 'Great Plains five.'

A couple of weeks ago I returned to Hungary for the first time. I was on a tour of horse based enterprises to see what was on offer in the way of horse tourism. A whistle-stop gallop around riding schools, horse shows, Arab studs and cross-country riding centres. I got to ride horses left, right and centre: but I wanted above all to track down the puszta otos.

With Barbara my translator, (I was going to need more than a dozen words of Magyar to understand what was going on), I drove down to Tanyacsarda in the Bugas plains. The csarda - roughly 'horse farm' - was pure tourist show, the equivalent of a daily rodeo, but the csikos were as authentic as dude ranch cowboys. Sandor, one of the horsemen, knew exactly who he was:

“I am a csikos who shows people who know nothing about horses, what a horse and rider can do together.”

Their tricks were the survival techniques not only of the horse herders of the plains where there could be a 70 degree difference between summer heat and winter snows, but also of the betyars ('free men'), the 18th century outlaws whose weapons were the knife and the 12' bull whip, accurate enough to flick a man of the end of a cigarette, and whose horsemanship was based on the skills needed to steal horses and outrun the soldiers sent to hunt them down.

The csikos entered an expansive field dotted with trees, watercranes and broken-down wagons, at a full gallop, saddle-less, whips cracking. One drove five horses, in a cat's cradle of reins, in the puszta otos. They were as much a part of their Magyar felver - Hungarian half-breds - as centaurs. Skidding to a halt, the four horsemen jumped to the ground and their mounts collapsed, flat out, beside them.

"This was the only way to hide a horse in the enormity and flatness of the plain," I was told. The horsemen stood on the barrels of their steeds, circling and exploding their whips inches above the horses heads, "And this got them used to gunfire.”

The riders lay back in the folds of their mounts' stifles, hats pulled across their eyes.

"The most comfortable place to siesta on the puszta, and your horse is always to hand - you're always ready for escape." One by one the animals sat up like dogs, and the csikos fitted themselves into the sentry-box-like shelter between their front legs..."the only dry place in the summer storms that sweep the plains." The horses scrambled to their feet and the riders swung back onto them. One produced a red handkerchief and the others gave chase.

"We call this roka vadaszat - 'the fox hunt.'" Feinting and twisting at the gallop, canting their horses into the corners like motor-bikes, they snatched the handkerchief from each other, hanging off the horses' necks to avoid attack, or whirling them round in sudden clouds of dust.



continued below.....

[~Sam~]

After the show, back at the stable lines, Barbara explained that I could ride a bit. Sandor looked doubtful, even more so when I removed the English saddle he'd put on the proffered horse. I vaulted up onto the half-bred's back and trotted, then cantered and then galloped around the arena. The horsemen looking on with the keen anticipation of those about to be mightily entertained paid me the compliment of rapidly becoming bored.

"They say you've got a job, if you want," Barbara shouted,
"So you can get off now."

My showing-off had the desired effect, and my interest in the puszta otos was going to be rewarded. From the Tanyacsarda I was driven to the newly-built carriage driving centre of Kincscem Lovaspark at Tapioszentmarton. There was stabling for 160 horses, and in a grid of arena four-in-hands and pairs were going through dressage practice. Imre Ledacskiss, manager for owner Janos Kocsi showed me round.

"Some of them are practicing for the World Pair Driving Championships in August - just down the road at Kecskemet - and our whips have a good chance."

In the yard a tangle of horses were being bridled and arranged in rough rows. They nipped at each other and skittered around whilst skeins of reins were sorted out. A stocky cskios, in long loose trousers, his whip looped over his shoulder, stood at the back holding a pair of enormous felt-soled boots. Imre, Barbara and I walked out to the open country beyond the yard and waited. A few minutes later there was a mad jingling of bells, the sound of 40 trotting hooves and the cracking of a whip. Viktor Buck hove into view bobbing atop two horses with eight horses pulling ahead of him.

"That," said Imre, "is the 'pusztan ten.' Viktor is one of only three men who can do it - but even more amazing is that he doesn't couple the horses to each other; he holds them together with the reins only."

There was a powerful shouted command and the herd broke into a canter. "It's all in the knees - to follow the movement of the horses. And you need to be a little bit crazy." Imre was commentating, as Viktor casually pulled one or other of the handful of reins to keep the bunch tight, then loosed his whip, sending it out over the heads of the horses, any one of which alone would have been a difficult ride. There was the repeated crack of the lash in the air as the team surged into a gallop.

Viktor spun them in a tight circle, leaning back, at ease with the forces of gravity, centrifuge and ten spirited horses.

"What's really amazing is that he takes any of the horses here, and just puts them into the team. No training...but for him it works. By August, and the World Pairs Championship, he'll be doing twelve, and after that...who knows."

"After that," I pointed out he'll be able to exercise your whole yard in one session. A useful man."

As Viktor galloped the horses in tight spirals through the gathering dusk, he was a vision that even the most imaginative artist would have felt fell into the realm of the fantastic - a figure of mythology, a chariot of night drawing darkness across the Great Plains of Hungary.



http://www.kinga.com/horseman.jpgAncient Magyar Horseman

I hope you don't mind me sharing this with you... It's amazing the things you find when you type in "Hungarian Horsemen". Below is the whip I was speaking of in the reply above....

http://www.smcm.edu/Academics/Scholars/Trip2000/e02.01.jpg
Bridgette receiving a first hand demonstration of the Hungarian horseman's abilities with the horse training whip

http://www.smcm.edu/Academics/Scholars/Trip2000/d15.01.jpg
Preparing a horse for battle by using a whip that cracks like gunfire above the horse's head

[Southernman]

Hi Sam,

I saw exactly a cisco performance like this in the mid 90s on a round trip through Hungary. If I remember correct, it was here, at Hortobagy (http://www.hortobagy.hu/publikalas/index?lap=76)

Yes, this ancient Magyar horsemen are still wellknown here at Bavaria, thanks to their repeated visits here more than 1000 years ago, the people built lots of castles and nearly every church over a age of 1000 years has a verry thick wall around it, to give the people and their cattle shelter during the visits of this kind of Magyarian tourists. The revenge of the old Bavarians was the christianization of the Magyars step by step[/url] and the bewaring of this old buildings as tourist attractions until today and today it are not only the hungarian tourists, who pay. http://hipforums.com/forums/images/icons/newicons/icon16.gif
What I like most on Hungary of today is the fact. that they are since a few months member of the European Community, what means a big chance for peace in this part of the world, special after this Cold War shit and all this stupid wars throughout the last 3000 years.
May be, later this summer, I'll do a Harley trip to Hungary, but there are still other things, I'ld like to see, like the midnight sun (http://dict.tu-chemnitz.de/dings.cgi?o=3001;count=50;service=en-de;query=Christianization) at northern Norway or Brocelliande (http://www.earlybritishkingdoms.com/archaeology/paimpont.html) in western France.

This hungarian Synthesizer band I'll check out, at the moment there is no much info to find at the web-adress you gave me, only the name of the group is displayed on the middle of the screen. May be, it's my Linux machine and its security police, I'll try it later again on a MS-Windows based PC. I think, it should be no problem, to get their CD here at Munich.

Wish you again a fine time,
Juergen


[url="http://dict.tu-chemnitz.de/dings.cgi?o=3001;count=50;service=en-de;query=Christianization"]

[~Sam~]

That is So Cool! You seeing this dream of mine in the horseflesh. Damn! I wanna go too!

Here's another link to Korai Orom...

http://www.cdroots.com/country.shtml

and

http://www.cdroots.com/hungary.shtml

http://www.cdroots.com/fono-korai.gif
Sound and Vision (blue) </I>- Korai Orom - 12.99
... Their ability to fuse psychedelic rock, Eastern-European folk influences and shamanist tradition is stunning. The ingredients of this rich mixture are tribal percussion, pagan flutes, shamanist trance rock, ambient soundscapes, bizarre Hungarian voices harmonising with burning guitar leads; it's all in there. The music of Korai Orom is overwhelming, visionary and at the same time humane, natural, mindexpanding... real earth psychedelics.' - CROHINGA WELL (Belgium)

Enjoy........................