Kristine E. Brickey

"How was the Festival?" So many have asked since I returned from Lexington. Three full days of horses, liberty, learning, and awestriking performances inside Kentucky Horse Park's Covered Arena. It's impossible to answer, to fully explain what happened in such a small time away from home, surrounded by like minded people where horses and their needs take precedence.  How was the Festival?  Quite possibly, life changing. I've committed to showing Cinder at Liberty Fest 2023, not because I like showing, but because the decision will motivate my diligence in our at home Liberty work and baby step progression to my ultimate goal: riding Cinder at Liberty. Each time I ride, I focus on less rein and more inner/leg/body/mind communication and guidance. As we weave our way through autumn trails, colorful leaves cascading upon us, I imagine the rides that require no bridle. A dark blue neck rope hangs inside my trailer, awaiting use, but I imagine it's thick braided pr...

In September of 2020, Reality's Chance Rescue & Sanctuary traveled to Michigan's Upper Peninsula and rescued a group of Mustangs from what has been described as heinous living conditions. Five Mustangs. Panel corral. No free access to water. Clearly undernourished. Footing of at least a foot of, well, let's call it mudnure.  One of those horses was my own sweet little red mare, Cinderella's Story, aka Cinder. One of the others was Cappy, the sorrel paint I've recently begun working with at the Rescue. Cinder and Cappy have very different beginnings and middles of their stories, but I'm hoping they can both have a happily ever after ending. In order to build understanding and empathy for Mustangs and the power of rescue, I'd like to share Cappy's story. According to Cappy's paperwork, he was rounded up in Oregon by the BLM in 2016. His birth year was estimated at 2010, meaning Cappy lived wild on the range for at least his first six years. He was ...

 *Things have seemed a bit heavy lately: many dear friends suffering injuries and losses, and despite all the very positive accomplishments and days in general, I've found myself weeping at the slightest things.  I created this piece in July while attending the New Orleans Writing Marathon, the first since 2019, since 'the pandemic' closed down the world.  I've edited it a bit with possible family readers in mind, and though it might punch you in the belly somewhere around the middle, it ends on a beautiful note. It means a lot to me, and I hope it offers someone who might need it right now some peace and hope. 4:10PM @"The Seance Room" upstairs at Muriel's in Jackson Square w/Janice, Kate, and Jessica "Channeling Spirits"     Channeling the spirits. This was what I opened myself up to while on my way here from Michigan. Wearing my  pendant of ethereal, spiritual connection enhancing stone, I had readied my heart, head and notebook. Yet, these ar...

Today is July 23rd. He would have been 29 years old today, officially as of 9:56 PM, the minute all 8 pounds, 12 ounces of my son made his arrival via c-section. Weeks overdue. Induced. All day labor. Emergency cesarean delivery.  I remember the moment he 'popped' out (literally, I heard the sound) and was soon after laid upon my chest. Somehow, I'd done it. My son was finally in the world with me. As my body's blood pressure dropped dangerously low, Robbie was scooped off of me and the doctors worked to save me. I survived his birth, and somehow I have survived his death. Twelve years, two months, and one week without him today. It seems impossible, but one thing I have learned the hard way is how much I am possible of each day.  People have told me too often how strong I am, and though I appreciate the thought, I know that nobody knows what they are capable of until they need to be capable of things they'd never imagined. 'Before', I couldn't imagine i...

             I wished for a House of Dreams, but forgot that nightmares are dreams, too. Locked inside my head, unable to wake despite my screams, I moved forward, unable to go back. Sunflowers grew upward around me, trying to cage me inside their tree trunk sized stems. As their heavy, seeded flowers appeared overhead, the world around me darkened, hurrying my feet even as I tripped and stumbled over unseen roots. Colors full of meaning swirled, misty moisture collecting upon my face and bared arms. Raging red tinted my hair, firing images of war inside my head. But then, Orange optimism rained upon my cheeks, softening the powerful red, and I stilled, mesmerized with the changing tone. Wanting more, I tipped back my head and waited as Indigo descended upon my face and chest. Imagination filled me with mysteries never dreamed of before. I could have happily stay there forever, soaking them in. Yet, before I’d finished that thought, Blue floated arou...

 A line drawn in the dust The weeds had taken over my flower beds. Gone from home for only a few days, I returned to see amber waves of seeded grass stalking my poppies into submission. Coneflower and Indian Blankets, still green, but fighting for future purple and red-headed blooming were barely discernible inside weedy cages.  With a sigh, I surveyed the wreckage and headed to retrieve gloves and mini-tiller. It was already hot and it wasn’t quite eight a.m. There had been record breaking heat while I camped in Ohio, and clearly it hadn’t been easier here at home. Lugging the tiller over, I decided to first make an effort to clear some of the knee high stalks clear of the rotating blades, hoping to diminish the number of times I would need to stop, remove the pins, strip away gobs of matted stems glued with dirt, replace the blades, restart the temperamental machine, and continue. The flower beds silently begged me to hurry. Tugging at handfuls of grass made me feel li...

Cinderella's Story, aka Cinder, officially became mine on April 25th, 2021. Since bringing her home on that lovely Sunday afternoon, there have been numerous adventures. All of them, each day we've spent together, whether in or out of the saddle, bring us to a deeper level of trust and understanding. One day, I will write our story, my personal "Cinderella's Story." For now, this small, incredibly significant story is one I absolutely have to share.      Friday, Cinder and I joined Rose and Indy for an 8.67 mile trail marking ride. Originally, I'd planned on camping but life has been crazy and too, too busy so I put myself on hold. The ride was perfect. Cinder took it all in: high winds, Milford Rd traffic, lawnmowers and deer, bicycles and dozens of campers setting up in the Kensington meadow.       After our ride, Cinder followed Indy's example and rolled in the sand before easily loading into our slant load two-horse trailer for the hour plus drive ...