At the end of February I spent a week at Arizona Music Fest. This festival recruits some of the top orchestral musicians in the country and I was honored to be included this year. Musically, playing with a festival orchestra like this is highly stimulating. All the players are new to one another professionally speaking, or they may as well be since nearly a year goes by between meetings of the ensemble, but clearly everyone brings such a high level or artistry that the combination is unique and spectacular. Music aside, playing in festival orchestras can be a mixed bag for those of us who are new. Often one is walking into an environment with long-standing relationships and people rightfully want to focus on the relationships they have. This can sometimes mean going to a foreign place and having to make your free time interesting on your own terms. I was really lucky to have been housed with a local couple who took great care of me and also introduced me to some of what was available to explore in the area.

I am not sure what I pictured the desert outside of Phoenix to be like, but it was far more interesting than I expected. I have spent some time in the desert, but I guess one desert is not the next, and this one surprised me pleasantly. I cynically thought that there would be no reason to want to live in such a hot climate and even though that week saw a record temperature of 92, I did understand the appeal. There is so much beauty in the Sonoran desert, but it is very different to the prairie, farmland, wetland, and oak savannah that typifies the areas near Madison. While Wisconsin can have brutal winters, the plants and animals around Madison all seem pampered by comparison to their desert counterparts who are constantly living on the edge with little to no water and full exposure to the sun. It was impressed upon me just how important it is to keep sipping water while on our hikes in the preserve. Evidently it is not uncommon for hikers to die of heat-stroke or dehydration in this area. I think because the preserve is not remote from Phoenix it maybe lulls hikers into thinking their proximity to civilization will keep them safe

I had never, to my recollection, seen a saguaro cactus before, and for some reason, probably related to Wiley Coyote running into them in pursuit of Road-runner, I thought they were only slightly taller than a person. I was amused and somewhat awestruck to see that they are more like the size of a tree. When it rains they apparently expand considerably and the folds which we all associate with cacti fill in as the rib -structure expands. My host pointed out some dead ones so that I could see what the internal rib structure looks like.

In retrospect it seems obvious that something which stands up so high and is so heavy would have to have a rigid internal structure. I guess I figured it was just like a giant sponge, but that was wrong. The interior of a Saguaro is quite woody in texture, at least the rib structure is. The rest is probably what I imagined…..Fleshy.

The AZMF schedule is pretty dense with double rehearsals most days and three concert evenings during the course of the week, but it did leave a fair amount of free time in the mornings and evenings to either be social or practice. We had one day off mid-week and I spent most of that day with my host at a horse rescue of all places.

My first experiences with horses were very early. My friend Kostya lived on a large plot of land that included a horse barn and some land on which to ride the horses. Hanging out with Kosty always included a little jaunt down the hill to go visit the horses, though we never got to actually see them. I think we were both too short to see over the stalls, but I think we sensed that they were there and the horses, I’m sure, sensed us too. It would be maybe another 10 years until I got to spend any legitimate time with a horse. My 8th grade Spanish class went to Costa Rica for two weeks where we stayed with host families and participated in various tourist activities. One such activity was a horse-back ride with our group to go see a waterfall and take a swim at the waterfall’s base. The horse I was given for this was smallish, somewhere between tan and chestnut colored, and she looked and felt as if she was about to give birth. In fact she kept stopping to eat grass along the trail and I slowly fell far behind the rest of the group. The tour guides tried to get her to move along a few times and even went so far as to whip her, which I didn’t like, but she was pretty unfazed by their efforts. It seemed like she had endured enough of this kind of treatment that it no longer had an effect. So I had what amounted to a very tall, gently swaying, grass eating chair for about an hour. I eventually did reach the waterfall, but by the time I got there everyone was done swimming and I had to try to get my chair to take me back to the starting point, which she eventually did. I hope her birth went well. She was a good horse who I’m sure would have been more open to connecting with me if she was not appropriately occupied with feeding her almost-horse. I have not been on a horse since then, but not because I had a bad experience. If anything it was a strangely connecting inter-species experience. Horses will listen to people, but they are also intelligent, highly sensitive creatures with their own desires and needs.

So my host Diana took me to the horse rescue with the idea that if I wanted to help muck the stalls and feed the horses their vitamins and refill water, then I could do those things. No pressure. I wasn’t sure how useful I could be in helping, though I did want to. I just wasn’t sure I’d be able to put my fear aside. I felt afraid of being near them and on top of that, I felt sure that they might sense my fear and somehow react to it by kicking me or biting me, neither of which I felt would help me finish out my performing week. I think this fear was founded in a respect for what horses can do, but I also think it was maybe a little overblown. Like dogs, horses seem to like us more than we might deserve to be liked. I asked Diana if the horses could smell my fear and she sort of said that maybe, but that they probably wouldn’t care if I was afraid and that kind of made sense to me. Why would a horse care if I was afraid of it? I was instructed to watch their ears for communication. Evidently when a horse pins their ears back it is a sign that they are annoyed and might possibly decide to do something about it so I watched for that, but I never saw any concerning ear-language. I think the attitude I tried to bring to the stable was that I realized that I couldn't hide and so I wasn’t going to. I was going to be candid about my fear without letting it color my experience. I wanted to be present with the horses in the most positive way I could while also respecting my own limits.

The first thing we did was go to refill water buckets. As I said earlier, it was a really hot week. The horses at this rescue are kept in pens that are largely open to the elements except that they do of course have shade. I was given a hose and told to start at the end at the largest pen which held two horses. Most of the horses at this rescue are thoroughbreds and come from racing through one path or another, but the first horse I met was the only quarter-horse in residence. His name is Comet.

I went over to the side of the pen where a big blue water bucket needed refilling. I stuck the hose in and watched the horses with a bit of wariness. Comet sauntered over to me with a mission in mind. He immediately mouthed the end of the hose and pulled it out of the bucket. I was aware that I could really do nothing to stop this, but as soon as he released the hose I gathered it up and then watched as he began to lift the side of the bucket up eventually managing to tip it over. He had clearly done this before and in fact some of the horses had extra large water barrels that presumably could not be tipped because of the weight of the liquid inside. So horses like to play games and Comet was clearly playing with me though I did feel that I was not quite getting the game. After grabbing the hose away from him I went back to the other side of the stall where another blue bucket was waiting to be filled. As soon as I stuck the hose in, Comet meandered over towards me, grabbed the hose and pulled it out. I promptly stuck it back in there and this game continued for some time. I would go back and forth between the two buckets attempting to fill them and Comet would come try to grab the hose. Eventually I had the feeling that this wasn’t just a game, but that I was being solicited to do something for Comet. This day was particularly hot and so, using my monkey brain, I put it together that maybe Comet was taking the hose as a way of showing me that he wanted to be cooled off with the hose. I started spraying his cheeks with water and that seemed to satisfy him and eventually I got everyone’s water filled. It was funny how that bit of communication felt so connecting. I was happy to be a participant in something that felt a little beyond my understanding. Comet clearly felt he could communicate with me, but I was much less certain that our communication went both ways.

The longer I spent there, the more I felt that I was being “seen” by the horses there. To be seen is a powerful thing and to be seen by a horse is therapeutic in some way and while I am aware of equine therapy, I admit I didn’t, or still don’t know how it works, but I have a guess. A horse’s gaze can make you feel that there is no place to hide and when you realize this fact then something of your guard begins to come down. Whatever you think you are showing the world on the exterior, the horse seems to see through it. When you are in a situation where you don’t have to pretend, you get calm. Humans are constantly trying to appear a certain way and in doing so we can become trapped by our “identity” whether that is an identity that is given to us by our community or self-applied, it seems to be so native to the human experience that few of us even realize the various identities that we have taken on are only a small slice of who we actually are. Being next to the horses made me feel embodied and connected to my own energy and, to the extent possible, it allowed me to see myself a bit more clearly. Unfortunately I was only there long enough to have a small taste of the potential of horse-time, but something did shift in me that afternoon.

I may be ascribing too much virtue to the horse, but it seems that if you live in a world where the only information you receive is through body language and energy, then you don’t feel the need to tell stories about yourself or your fellow horses. Perhaps we should, as a society, aim to emulate the horse. I think much of our suffering as a society stems from our apeish desire to tell stories about ourselves and show that we are better than another ape or group of apes. Maybe horses would do the same if they had the ability to speak and post to social media, but I’d like to think they are better than that. Maybe I’m just romanticizing the horse.

When we were done giving the horses their vitamins Diana asked the manager if she could turn out a couple of the horses for my benefit so that I could see them run in the paddock. We consulted the whiteboard to see who hadn’t been out in a while and which horses would go well together. Comet was fortunate to be selected and I looked forward to watching him run with his partner, but he seemed more into sticking his head through the gaps in the fence and eating any of the weeds he could reach. I actually think he influenced the other horse to do the same. They were eventually taken back to their stalls and a new pair was brought out. This pair wasn’t as interested in weeds, but also wasn’t too interested in running. They just kind of meandered around giving very tiny bursts of speed here and there, but then slowing on the verge of breaking a sweat. I wasn’t attached to seeing them run anyway. When I was a kid, we would go with my grandfather to the track in Connecticut and watch the horses racing. My grandfather seemed to know everyone there, but that’s neither here nor there. The most exciting part of the racing was to see the horses all get lined up before the race. You could really see their individuality in the lead-up. The racing itself, well, it is a spectacle, but it’s not for me. To be in the presence of a horse feels like plenty and I got a lot of that. In the end I did get to see one of the horses let loose and it was impressive for sure. This horse was strong, agile, and assured. To be a witness to that innate confidence was a gift.

Race horses, much like human athletes hit their peak fairly early on in their lives. But when they are done racing, where are they supposed to go? They don’t get hired to give commentary on ESPN Horse+. Though I would enjoy seeing some former racehorses in ill-fitting suits and obvious toupees speculating about this year’s Preakness favorites. This rescue and ones like it are a way to give horses quality of life as they age. I think there was a horse there that was in her mid 30s and hadn’t seen a race track in a long time. It was strange to think back on how old I was when she was born. Third Grade? What a lucky thing to find yourself in a place where kind people take such good care of you. If I come back as a horse, I wouldn’t mind finding myself in those circumstances.

I was so wrong about how this experience would unfold and bizarrely it ended up being a major highlight of a trip that was not supposed to be about music, not horses. I don’t know what this experience means exactly. I don’t have any horses in my orbit that I can spend time with, but if any equines to enter my life, I would be open to exploring that relationship.

Though I longed to be back with the horses, that was my only field trip to the rescue. I did have a chance to go to the Musical Instrument Museum on my last full day. It was news to me that this existed, but I got a hot tip from my hosts when I arrived that this was a place to see. I enjoyed exploring the exhibits which are divided by geographical region. Though they didn’t have that many important violin-family instruments, there were so many fascinating instruments I had never seen and there were recordings of music from around the world to listen to as I walked through the exhibits. Here’s a goat-shaped bagpipe for your pleasure.