Kristine E. Brickey

*Intro: The past four days, I have facilitated a Winter Writing Retreat in Northern Michigan at a location that holds a special magic with magical women. Writing. Sharing. Laughing. Crying. Together, we've shared both familiar adventures and new. The snow was deep, almost as deep as the writing we shared. As each woman opened veins with their pen, we were brought together as only writers can be in such a short time together. I love each and every woman who was at this retreat, and as they shared, my rage built against the people in their lives who caused them pain, who made them doubt their worth, and who did their worst to make them small.  On a cold afternoon following a sharing session, I stomped my way down an ice covered path to write in the full-sized teepee. Fire blazing inside. Comfortable seats. Wind blowing against the canvas. Smoke escaped upwards as my rage built inside of me against the specific monsters who have hurt these women, and the monsters currently hiding in p...

Another unexpected hospital stay. Another discharge without answers.  About a year and a half ago, I spent five days as a patient in Memphis Baptist Hospital during what was supposed to be a relaxing visit with my girls. Five days. IV antibiotics. Multiple theories as to what caused the trouble: appendicitis, rare diseases, perforation, cancer-all ruled out. Follow up with my home specialists showed all was well. Decades of training and experience and their best guess was some sort of bacterial infection in my gut.  After Sunday evening's bout of what I thought was stomach flu left me with some symptoms too similar to my Memphis troubles, I went in for a check. Admitted overnight, again doctors were flummoxed. "Are you sure there's no family history of...fill in the blank with a myriad of grasping straw ideas? You're active. Healthy. No falls." My bloodwork and information complicated the puzzle that my pain and symptoms were creating. I was discharged yesterday, ...

The beauty of the sky Wednesday seemed a mockery of Cappy's relapse. Misty pastel hues a backdrop to his staggering back legs, pain accentuated by the awe of Mother Nature's handiwork. I raced into this awful beauty as I drove west to the vet's office to pick up a new round of steroids for Cappy, taking note of the irony. I was worried, but glad that I'd caught the change quickly, and grateful for my vet who made a special Christmas Eve morning drop so I could get my beloved Mustang dosed and back on track. I couldn't imagine what could have happened on Christmas otherwise. But, it happened anyway. As soon as it was light Christmas morning, I headed out for chores, eager to see Cappy's progress, his second dose of steroids hidden inside his favorite German cookie treat. Cappy was lying near the south side of the horse barn. I was relieved, thinking he'd finally been able to rest, until he tried unsuccessfully to stand. His fronts pushed his body up, so he wa...

I really thought this season was going to be different. Last week, I watched a ridiculous Christmas Hallmark movie...and enjoyed it! Our favorite Christmas tree farm advertised their upcoming hours, and I imagined Chad and I trekking through the fir scented rows to find a fat little tree to hang lights upon and place gifts beneath. Dare I say, as the holidays grew nearer, I confidently felt the jolliness that many associate with it all. Yesterday morning, Grief wrapped around me like a blanket. Uninvited, it slipped upon my shoulders, pushing out the previous week's dreams of holiday cheer.  Nothing out of the ordinary precipitated this heavy arrival, yet everything feels different now. Any desire to drag out Christmas decorations, hang lighted garland upon the mantle, jingle bells, or sing carols evaporated.   I can't help but compare this to what's been going on with Cappy, my poor, sweet Mustang gelding who has slid backward in his comfort level after one too many things...

Today began like most others around here. I woke up way too early, spent a couple hours journaling on the couch with Frankie nestled beneath a blanket beside me, and went out to feed the equines before heading to a 9 a.m. CrossFit workout.  Chad walked outside around 9:45 to open what I call the breakfast gate, the one that separates the boys from the girl so they each eat their own portions. Cinder was hanging out in the center area. Cappy roamed over to stand by our visiting bearded collie, Annie. Little Red was standing knee deep in the hay on the opposite side of the fence from Cappy and his canine friend. Less than thirty minutes later, I pulled into the driveway after an invigorating workout and noticed Little Red lying on his side in the pasture. He's been sleeping a lot more the last couple months, so I pushed down the initial panic as I parked in the garage. Tossing my stuff on the kitchen counter, I kicked off my gym shoes and slipped into paddock boots before hustling ou...

First, if you haven't read the previous post, "Reflections: Imposter Syndrome be Gone," here's the link so you can understand the crazy power of what happened next.  Reflections Part 1   After sharing that post with a friend, she asked if I'd researched the katydid as a totem. Obviously, I had not. I mean...who does that? Well, she did, and I was absolutely gobsmacked at what the Universe had clearly sent to me when I spotted the well camouflaged katydid sitting upon the green gate.  The article read, in part, that the katydid as animal totem symbolizes transformation, adaptation, and finding one's voice; encouraging the shedding of old beliefs and embracing new opportunities for growth and success, and patience in achieving goals. Also, when the katydid totem appears, it signifies: being in a stage of significant personal change, the need to adapt to new challenges, overcome past failures and move toward success, and encourage the expression of your unique id...

This morning after playing with my horses, I discovered a beautiful, leafy green katydid on the small gate leading out of my west pasture. Not a praying mantis. Not a leaf. Not a grasshopper. An insect that secures its safe existence on faking others out as to its true identity. Wow, Universe.  See, after playing with my horses for the hour before, I began to succumb to Imposter Syndrome. I questioned my skills, my patience, my need to always do more, and for at least a nanosecond, wondered why I felt I was any good at anything.  Ninety-nine percent of the time, I begin training sessions with Cinder and then move to Cappy. However, this morning, since Cappy was already in the west, I started with him. Instead of playing in the arena, I moved our stuff into the pasture. Instead of giving my equines some grazing time together after being separated for breakfast, I went right into a session with Cappy. As we worked on some hoof husbandry skills, Cappy felt more tense than usual, ...

For the last couple of weeks, it's felt like my lovely Mustangs have been all over the place during our training sessions, and I was stumped, frustrated with myself for not being able to figure out the problem. I mean, it isn't as if there was anything extra going on around here: Two dear, beautiful friends died unexpectedly. Another friend had an accident and we (allegedly) may have kidnapped her and her lovely, large bearded collie until the surgeon gives the okay that independent living is two thumbs up. The first Michigan Shawna Karrasch Equine Clinic is happening here in a few days. My website builder went into some bizarre 'oops, something went wrong' lockout, meaning I could not access ANY of my resources to update or send newsletters. AT&T blocked me from even going to my website...malware, are you sure this site is safe? Uh, yeah it's my website! AND DID I MENTION MY HORSES SEEMED TO HAVE FORGOTTEN EVERYTHING WE HAD EVER DONE DURING OUR SESSIONS? Two we...

This piece came about as a response to a prompt from The Book of Alchemy , by Suleika Jaouad, that my 3rd Saturday Book Club recently began reading. Each of the ten chapters focuses on a theme and holds an intro followed by ten pieces created by different writers that each hold a writing prompt.  "How are you really?" was the piece and prompt by Nora McInerny, from the first Chapter, On Beginning. Friday, July 18th, 2025    I am really, really, really happy at this moment, sitting on the soft dark blue cushioned chair that makes me think of my friend Lori-she gave us this entire set, four chairs and lava rock square fire pit table all. Every time I sink into one of these, I smile and think of Lori But I am happy to the max because this day has been perfection. My memoir beta draft is in the hands of three readers. It is up to them now. I pushed away the panic earlier and gave it up to Fate. If they hate it, or love it but tell me NO WAY should it be published, so be it. I...

It's been a rough couple of weeks around here if I'm being totally honest. Covid. Fallout symptoms of exhaustion and a heaviness in my lungs and chest that keep my 'to do list' out of attainment. I am not a person who enjoys idling when there are so many things I love.  Yesterday happened. Everything was 'fine', in that nothing was really wrong...but there I sat, crying on the couch because a familiar website morphed before my eyes into a new display. Not a big deal...except, it suddenly was more than I could take.  It was the final thing, sent me over the top. Off the edge. My body shook. Tears wouldn't stop. Whatever energy reserve I had fizzled away, leaving me empty and depleted. Similar reactions had been happening in less dramatic versions the last few days, but yesterday was top notch meltdown. Eventually, I recovered, got my ducks in a row, so to speak, and moved on with other things. I took care of some less physically strenuous tractor/pasture work...

Even as 2024 taught me the power of prioritizing joy, so much so in fact that I have vowed to pursue this goal even deeper in 2025, there are still days where I feel life weighing upon my heart. This morning, as I enjoyed my morning ritual of coffee, word puzzles, and snuggles with Frankie in my little couch nest, a wave of melancholy washed over me.  I know it stems from grief.  I know it will always be with me, a lesson that solidified during my time with Becky Howell of Equine-led Holistic Success (formerly Meeting Place Equine). I stood in the barn aisle, listening to my body, asking my shoulder where and why the tension originated from. (Yes, I was initially rolling my eyes behind my closed lids...until I heard my body respond.) First, the word pain. I was stunned. Astonished. I'd truly only complied with Becky's directions, never expecting results from what I thought was a too hooey-hooey ask even for me!  And then, as I listened with a slightly more open mind, my s...

Oh, what a weekend! My heart is filled in ways that should not surprise me at this point in my life, yet here I am. Jammies on (it's only 4:45 p.m.). Hydrating. Reflecting on the Somatics Work 1 clinic that wrapped up here earlier this afternoon. Today, I did a demo for the group with my Mustangs. I brought both horses into the arena and haltered them, playing with them for a bit before everyone walked over. Becky Howell, the clinician and founder of Meeting Place Equine and I agreed that too many eyes focused on Cappy might be a bit much for him, so we decided to use Cinder for the 'observation' demo. I let Cappy back into the pasture.  Becky asked me to lead Cinder around while she pointed out different aspects on Cinder's body. Despite the windy gusts and crinkling of fall leaves spinning down (much more enrichments than a bubble machine!), I was tickled to hear comments about Cinder's symmetry, balance and connection. Moving close to the fence where the seven wo...

Nestled snugly in familiar surroundings, I find my breath and reflect upon the last few weeks. Four unexpected days in the hospital, terrified by words like cancer, my future went hazy and filled with uncertainty. Honestly, I went to a dark place for a while sitting in Baptist Memphis ER's waiting area. I imagined my husband and loved ones left behind, mourned all the things I wanted to accomplish with my Mustangs, unfinished writing projects, and a vanishing future. Fast forward a few short weeks to today. Clean bill of health, home from an inspirational and challenging horse behavior clinic, Cappy's successful dental procedure accomplished this afternoon, and a future without limitation. Today, I cried tears of gratitude, overwhelmed as I pondered the journey that brought me to where I am now. During the final day of the Rachael Draaisma clinic, I experienced a huge 'Aha!' when I heard her guide me to do less. Calming signals (horses offer these for multitudes of reas...

    SOOO many big things recently! Farrier was coming at 2:30 (he has been at least 30-45 minutes early every single time in the three years we've been working together) so I brought all 3 of my equines into the arena to play/halter to be ready for him. I still get a little anxious about keeping Cappy under threshold once his truck pulls in the drive & my mini donkey can be, well, quite a donkey about being haltered unless he's in the proper frame of mind. So, of course, my lovelies were all eager to come in and play, and halters were all on in like maybe 5 minutes. Guess who is running an hour behind schedule? Yup. Time to pivot!      Taking advantage of my new arena, we played with the rings (3 hard rubber rings linked together, a dog toy purchased for my horses) and both my Mustangs are now holding them in their mouths for a two count!       With plenty of time still to kill, we moved to the Reverse Round pen (RRP). For those unfa...