Taking Root

Contemplation, Joan of Arc, and Where Wolves

Puna Region, Hawaii — if contemplation were embodied in a landscape

I’ve been thinking about contemplation this week, about leading a contemplative life, about what that means. There’s a religious connotation to saying that one is leading a contemplative life, a life spent in work, thought, exploration, and prayer — like a nun, or a monk. Contemplation infers a cloistered existence, but I’ve found the act of contemplation to bring quite the opposite.

We have so many words for someone who is spending time alone reading, writing, thinking things through: pensive, brooding, thoughtful, reflective, musing, meditative, philosophical, to name just a few.

At the farm you’ll see us doing a lot of standing around quietly with our horses. You’ll hear us encouraging others to do the same. The horse by its very nature is a contemplative beast. When they’re not eating, moving, or sleeping, they’re standing and being. The time I’ve spent quietly standing beside a horse has taught me more than a lifetime of mentors, masters, instructors, and clinicians combined.

All of this to say, why are we so hard on ourselves when we take some time off from life to sit/lie/stand around and reflect?

I’ve learned how to be an extrovert by quietly watching others and taking notes on their behavior, but I’m not wired that way. My body, mind, and soul demands that I take time away from people to process my experiences. In years past I wouldn’t take that time to pause and reflect and as a result I’d awe myself with the tsunami of reactive emotions that I spilled all over the people around me.

It’s in the quiet moments of reflection that I connect with my story and the stories of the people around me. It’s time for me to order and sort. I notice threads of relatedness and I weave them into the tapestry of my tiny piece of the world in Taylors, SC.

I am often amazed at how far that web really reaches.

For us, story is a medicine which strengthens and arights the individual and the community.

- Women Who Run With the Wolves by Clarissa Pinkola Estés

---

The Last Vision of Jeanne d’Arc, Enoch Wood Perry, Jr., 1903, The Greenville County Museum of Art, Greenville, South Carolina

Write With Me

When I was in high school my greatest wish was to attend The Fine Arts Center, a local school for the arts that is a pre-professional powerhouse of talent. At the time acceptance was usually granted to students in their last two years of school before graduation. Being the overachiever I was, I began applying as soon as I launched into my first year of high school

I was not accepted. My poetry was, “unoriginal, trite, uninspired,” etc. They were totally right about that. I was also thirteen years old.

Desperate to land a solid interview, I had my father drop me off at the nearby art museum and I spent the afternoon staring at pictures. I sat on benches and scribbled in my notebook.

I wrote what I saw.

The resulting poem, Joan of Arc’s Vision, earned a spot for me in the FAC’s Creative Writing Program. I spent the next two years round-table writing and editing my work with people who I still keep up with today, many who went on to change/are changing the lives of other students through the sheer power of their words and vision.

This week I learned that writing inspired by visual art is called ekphrasis.

And I was able to sit in a circle of people with pens and notebooks again in my inaugural Journaling Workshop at my farm.

It was transformative.

There is deep magic that happens when people come together wearing their vulnerabilities and inspirations in a protected circle of trust within nature. The farm came alive as we sat down to write. At one point I had to raise my voice to be heard over a bird singing in a tree behind me.

I spent most of my life projecting my voice in the riding ring. Not once before the journaling workshop have I had to raise my voice to be heard over a bird. Maybe the bird was telling me shut up and write.

Many of this week’s attendees plan to come back next month to keep the initiative flowing. I’ll be introducing new exercises, prompts, tools, handouts and suggested readings every month but we’ll be continuing with the primary theme for now — exploring our wants, wishes, motivations, and desires.

If you weren’t able to join us last month, or you live too far away to join us in person, we have options:

Friday, May 17th, 6:00-8:00 PM in-person at the farm.

Sunday, May 19th 1:00-3:00 PM virtually by Zoom.

And this weekend we have my sister workshop for teenagers, Sunday, May 28th 2:00-4:00, in-person at the farm.

Join us and connect with the circle you’ve envisioned for yourself while gifting yourself time to pensively contemplate — no urgency, no agenda, just insight and discovery.

---

Bramblewood Reading List

I never reference our book list enough.

If you’re hungry for a new book, this ever growing library of titles range from human growth to horses to creativity. If you’re wondering about a book that I’ve mentioned or if you’re on the search for something to inspire you — visit the Bramblewood Reading List.

If you know of a book that has transformed or changed you in some way and don’t see it on the list, let me know. This library is constantly, organically growing. The books that have meant the most to me have always found me through someone who discovered them first. The literary cycle of life feeds me.

I’m staring at a stack of forty books right now that I haven’t had time to read yet. It doesn’t matter. I will read them eventually and money spent on books is money sent to an author that is never, ever paid enough for the time that it took to create the words that will change your world.

Let’s discover things together and support writers and the farm as we go.

---

Paid Subscriber Meet Up

Speaking of time for creative mind wanderings and finding your inspiration with fellow contemplatives, my first communal call for all paid subscribers to Stable Roots will be Friday, May 3rd, 6:00 EST.

I won’t be coming with handouts (sorry,

Laci Olson

) but I want us to use this time to hang out, talk and see where the spirit leads us. I have absolutely no doubt that we’ll leave with a sense of where the next meet-up will go. Think of it as your space to say whatever you want. And we don’t have enough of those, really.

Kind of like Saturdays at 11:00 at the farm.

More details will arrive in the subscriber chat (that I will create this week) here on Substack.

---

Summer Camps Redux

I received a message from client that had taken riding lessons with me years ago. She doesn’t ride anymore but routinely signs her kiddos up for summer camps. Her message was filled with concern because my camp schedule emphasized groundwork and she didn’t see the point of signing up if her kids didn’t get “saddle time.”

Camp is a space where we often see repeat attendees, but most of our campers arrive to learn more about farm life and horses, many for the very first time.

In my mission for our little farm to do our part for changing the world, we begin with teaching self-awareness. Parents should be thankful for this. There are few sports and ventures these days that lead with human growth rather than achievements. For many of the people who ride or do groundwork with us every week, it’s the only time in their crazy schedules where they can breathe, sink into the landscape, and just be themselves for an hour.

The horses support this. I mean, they really, really support this. Inevitably, the people who spend time with the horses on the ground exploring classical in-hand work and cutting edge equine physiology grow leaps and bounds as riders without trying.

Requiring all potential lesson students to first immerse themselves in groundwork changed my life. I can sleep better at night. Most of my professional career was spent using smoke and mirrors, often at the horses’s expense, so that people could leave with a vague sense of accomplishment. I don’t have to second-guess my methods anymore. I am now fully able to stand behind and appreciate every tool I disperse because I know that it has the best interest of the horse and rider at heart.

Also, if someone isn’t able to place a halter on a horse’s head and lead it from point A to B, they have no business riding a horse.

In summer Connection Camps, we learn how to independently lead a horse on the ground, how to steer, how to stop. How to line a horse up at a mounting block. We learn to read the horse’s gestures and literally speak horse. We explore equine bodywork and anatomy. In our downtime we learn about our human selves and learn how to read our own cues and how to follow our inspirations in moments of quiet contemplation.

Can I brag enough about how many of our long-term students become veterinary professionals?

Or how often I receive requests from previously unknown veterinary students to come learn our methods because they don’t have the skills to navigate their equine rotations?

Our tiny farm in the upstate of South Carolina is changing the horse industry one lifelong student of the equestrian arts at a time. If you want your child to be an eternal scholar, capable of independent thought and discernment, then our camps are the place to be.

You can learn more about summer Connection Camps here.

And you can contact me if you’re interested in adult camps. I’m so excited to be launching them this fall.

---

Photo by Grégoire Bertaud on Unsplash

Running With the Wolves

My creative offering this week is a little series of thoughts on where wolves, as in the creatures with paw pads, have intersected my life in the most unlikely places.

Find La Loba: The Wolf Woman, Keeper of the Bones here.

Where wolves. I just giggled when I read the first sentence.

Werewolves.

The essay I’m working on now is based on a prompt that I gave my journaling workshop this week — use numbered lists to explore a topic. Use numbers to order paragraphs. Use numbers, however you wish to generate a series of thoughts.

My personal topic is: Ten Times I Said No To Love.

Yours could be very different, or you can join me with mine. Play with numbers, create lists of anything you wish, and share with me what you create.

I am always, always happy to read your words.

Safe travels out there. I’ll be back next week with essays and contemplative thoughts and my weekly roundup of happenings in my world within Taking Root.

Thank you for joining me on these journeys.

Love,
Kim