A man comes forth. His image is that of importance. He rushes forward, a person in his arms. Impatience and urgency cloaks his fine features. Deep concern flows from his eyes into pools of excess compassion. He stops for a moment and looks down at the person in his arms. The person is scarred, bruised, and beaten. They carry the weight of a thousand down falls and still more await them. Their flesh is torn and mind polluted. Their breath comes in short, painful gasps. He knows he can wait no longer. He stops at many houses and knocks on the door, pleading with citizens to take his wounded solider in. His heart pounds harder and his steps increase into a run. He knows what will happen next. Blackness will take his burden. Blackness will take his love! Down the stairwell they will fall, away from him. Away from his grasp. He must find someone! Rain begins to fall and he struggles through the mud. His charge becomes restless in his arms, yet they do not open their eyes. Each moment is precious, slipping into oblivion like shards of broken class. He whispers softly to his burden. Wait, wait. Just a moment more.  

   Suddenly, he sees a group of people. One of them looks up, eyes shinning with a pleasant joy. The other three are bound together. At last he knows what he has found. He falls to his knees in front of two girls, looking at them intently. The girls kneel down near the deformed figure and look back up at him.

  "Take care of them for me. They are mine and I love them. All that you need will come in advance."

   He turns and leaves, knowing that the person he leaves behind is in the best care. So many thought that they were capable of taking someone like the person he held. Yet, it was the incapable he adored.



-This Christmas, don't judge. Don't judge appearance, background, words used, or history. Just reach out no matter how difficult it is.-

Run Wild. Live Free

   Enough said.

Hidden Feelings

It was once funny,
I could laugh about it,
I could brush it aside and move on,
Now it's a rain cloud tormenting my soul.

Imagination goes to far,
It floats high above the atmosphere,
In a canopy of color.

I don't know why,
You have to play with my eyes,
The picture was so perfect,
I never could have created it,
The black horse,
The clouds rushing down from the mountains,
Their fingers about to overtake you,
Consume your ink-dipped horse,
Carry you away into the emerald foliage,
 That surrounds.

Each color was wonderful,
The landscape was your fortress,
Your realm,
One moment I looked,
Though all was unnerving on its own,
You appeared and my heart was gone.

Now I struggle with an inexpiable longing,
The visual aspect of you riding,
Took me somewhere far away,
I am a fool,
But I once dreamed of something as untouchable as this.

Don't come back and spoil my picture,
It might break my thought of you,
The blue-gray mountains caressing the fields,
You stand in the middle,
A black figure on my imagination.


By Cameo Hockenberry

Summertime Wonders

   Ahhhh, it's beautiful. The dark night of winter has fled into the sky. The cold that once held the earth captive has disappeared into the sky. The aspen trees are a brilliant green and Longs Peak makes my jaw drop every day. It seems that the mountains are always changing and finding ways to appeal to one's senses. I love how all the water trickles in small streams around the rocks. The current is like the rich flow of precious stones. Sometimes I just have to stop and stare at the cliffs that once seemed so forlorn and icy during the winter. The Rocky Mountains are changing into a welcome array of visual treats, and the warmth of the sun has left me with a bright sunburn. I love it all.

  So far, this summer is wonderful. It is just the change that I needed. I have moved out, started working 8 hours a day (verses 8 hours of school a day) and my mind and heart are content. I praise God for all the new changes and blessings. As the weather warms, so does my heart. I have discovered so much in just a few weeks and I can't wait for every morning to start (though I do get tired!).

The Making of a Wrangler

   Watch me. Watch me. I am tired, there is mud on my jeans and in my hair. My makeup wore off hours ago. There are three horses pawing in the barn and mine went sour as soon as we got out on the trail. Still, people are watching. They are watching me. Expectant of a good time and admiring the mountains. I serve them even if it involves getting down and dirty and working till my finger nails bleed.

  So here it is. My dream come true and I tremble with the thought of it. At one time, I visited guest ranch websites every day and my thoughts were filled with images of taking out rides and absorbing the mountain air. I was young and attracted to the "romance" of working as a wrangler. This included the horses, the amazing rides, and yes.....Even the cowboys. However, life takes unexpected turns and with those turns my dream got a little dimmer. I was stressed and agitated and my romantic ideas got pushed to the back of my head.

  Now, here it is and I have come to the verge of understanding the responsibility that is about to weigh on my shoulders. I cannot fully comprehend what will happen this summer and what I will take on, but let it come. Let my dream arrive with all the good and all the bad. Open the gates and send me the best and the worst guests. Let me show them the compassion and love of a wrangler that is willing to serve. The wrangler that dreamed about ranch life as a kid. It is time to put the turmoil of last summer and fall behind me. I want my mind completely focused on the blessing of this job and sweetness of summer and the new beginning that welcomes me. I am going to give my everything.... I want the dirt to fly and I want to drop any fear that holds me. I wanna ride. Bring it.

   I hope that at the end of the summer I will have something beautiful to report. If I do not have time to blog, then picture me exhausted, but burning with the passion for the dream job that has arrived at my doorstep. I will be embracing all the romance and all the tough stuff that each wrangler understands. I hope that each guest will notice something extra special about me and my attitude.

  Put on the hat. Lets ride.

Musical Extravaganza

   There is nothing like a musical. The notes that cascade out to an awestruck audience, the melody that carries thoughts, the beat that sends the heart pounding in a fit of wonder. An actor stands before a crowd, reciting his lines and yet his mind is running through the song that will escape from his lips in a moment. Anxiously, he awaits the cue, counting each beat as his heart pounds wildly. He knows that he will have to calm his voice to keep it from quavering. Suddenly, he is concentrating on the melody and the meaning of the words. His song takes flight and echos across the walls into his soul, absorbing the lyrics and sensing the emotion. This is the essence of a musical, the ability to say the lines of conversation, while listening to the music.


    Arguably, musicals take just as much work, if not more than a regular performance. If there are dance numbers involved, the effort is an extreme test of mental and physical stamina . The challenge of bringing a musical together is perhaps the very definition of the words “theater”, “performance”, and “star”. Before it becomes a hit, a musical is practiced and practiced and practiced. Until those involved are suffering from a hoarse voice, too many late nights, a weakened immune system, and the songs they sing on “repeat” in their head. A person lives and breaths music. This is the “nitty-gritty” stuff that separates the partially devoted from the truly passionate people. The sweat, the blood, and the sour notes.

    Musicals capture the morals of a story in song. Actors have to temporally separate themselves from the real world and dive into the kaleidoscope of song. If actors do not feel the essence of a song, they cannot transmit the emotions prescribed in the musical to the audience. A musical is giving everything, and holding nothing back to belt out those high notes or mystify with the low, reverberating ones. This is the magic of it. The pulling of the audience or viewers into another place, another time, or just into the song. 

    Duets are even more of challenge as they match voices and looks with the emotions of a couple. Again, if the performers do not feel anything for that split second on stage, the lyrics will bounce off the audience's ears and into the empty hollow of the actor's voice. Further, multiple voices in a group will pull hidden talent from each individual and into the lime light. Musicals provide the chance for everyone to shine.

    Pictured are some of my favorite musicals. The ones that have captured my heart and sent me home singing. Before anyone faints at the sight of High School Musical, let me say that it started off as an after-school project. The effort that each person put in is obvious. It shows in the polished songs that reflect each person's gift. Further, too many of “stick to the status quo”! Anyway, not to jump off subject.







 


    Les Miserables- Perhaps the most fantastic, as I cannot imagine singing every word for that long. The loyal of heart triumph even over death.



    Phantom of the Opera-A scarred reflection is no reason to jump away. Love knows no boundaries.


    An American in Paris- Incredible combination of dance and song. Every second of the 40 minute ballet was entertaining. I never yawned.
 


    South Pacific-Do we judge people because society taught us how?

   
    My Fair Lady-Bias is changed to love in its “loverly-iest” form.

Let Me

 Let me alone,
 Just for the moment,
 So I may sit in the air,
 Feel its cold burn my face,
 Let its icy fingers caress my lungs,
 May the snow catch my hair.

 Let me absorb the horizons,
 May they call me far, far away,
 As I dream of distant places,
 Let me dream.

Let me watch the mist on the mountain,
As the texture and dimension of the sky,
Carries me far beyond,
To the outline of the hills so dark.

Let me imagine,
That someone sees me,
One who writes a poem,
Of the person they see,
Who wishes they knew the real me,
Let them see.
Let me feel the pull on my heart,
Let me be free as I rise.......



 

As Tough As Rocky

    Blood pours from his nose. His eyes are so swollen that it is a wonder that he can see. No matter how many times I watch them, the Rocky movies never get old. I have heard many people say that they are just a repeat of the same story. The story just changes a little bit and, guess who wins? Rocky Balboa, of course! However, I could never think that way about the movies that have come to mean so much more than just watching some boxing.

    Rocky starts off on the rough side of life. The side where surviving is a challenge and doing the bad things always seem to pay more than the “honest” way of life. He saunters through life with his heavy accent and gets mad when anyone calls him a “bum”, which seems like a pathetic insult to anyone living today. He has not tried anything too risky, but a good dose of caution comes from living on the streets. There is only so far that a person can go before things get ugly. He does not recognize the passion or the talent underneath his leather jacket and white t-shirt. He is okay where he's at and there is nothing wrong with that. Still, he tends to notice the beauty of simple things whether he knows it or not. This can be seen in his choice of pets or the girl he is in love with.

    Finally, the saga begins. One event changes his life forever. He has the invitation to fight a champion and the experience will rocket him from a “bum” to one of the greatest fighters of all time. We get to watch Rocky as he goes through life and continually wavers between retiring and taking on a challenge even bigger than the one before it. He marries, buys a house, and looses it. Has a son, but eventually looses his wife. His son grows, but becomes distant. All the while Rocky fights and fights hard.

    Usually, the plot of each movie is set up so that the present challenge seems more formidable or very near impossible when compared to the last. Once again, critics may call out-Guess who will win? Just take a moment. Picture yourself in that boxing ring. Blood is pouring from your nose, your lungs feel as if they will explode, you can barely see, and several of your teeth have been smashed in. Rocky bears a symbolic resemblance to life. I have led a life that is different from most of my friends, or different as far as I can see. We all have hard things in life, but they seem to be essentially different from what others have experienced around us. When we find someone that has been through a similar situation, only then can we truly relate. I know what it is like to stand in the face of life's blows and think- I will never get up, things will never change, people may never accept me. I'm through. I'm through with the pain, the heartache, and the crap that I have to take. I'm done. No more hits, no more pain .Take away this obstacle or I am going to jump out of the ring. Game over. Life is not perfect. It was not created that way. Some days I am not sure if it is a good idea to try again, because as Rocky once was, I am afraid. I get so sick of being hurt that it starts to ingrain fear in me. Fear of the next hit coming my way.

    My story is not new. After all, somebody already wrote the Rocky screenplay. They understood that fear can cause a person to stay in the same environment or routine. However, they also knew that beneath the fear is the willingness to fight for the good. Sometimes I am hit so hard that all I can see is my opponent above me, smiling. Then I hear a voice whisper and say- “I didn't hear no bell......” So I stand again, and each time I gain a little bit more of the heart to take on the next fight. Just like Rocky.

More Poetry

    I am adding the entire version of my "No Longer Alone" poem that some of you have already read. I changed the end of Part 3 a little bit. It shows that I am a hopeless romantic, but you know, I'm not embarrassed!

   Again, school has begun and I am in the starting to enter the thick of it. I am taking a math class this semester and it is probably going to take up a lot of my time. Still, I am thinking of you all and poetry is so easy to throw out there.

  Till next time!

No Longer Alone

Part 1-

He knew the horrors of battle,

As well as the pains of feeling alone,

Terror, agony, blood,

A familiarity,

To the broken man,

A ruler of legions,

Kingdoms and hills,

Far and wide,

Left to him by a father,

Brutal and anger filled,

Leaving a heir bitter,

Raw with hate,

For those in his way,

No mercy is rendered,

No conscience completed.

Though if one should wake,

In the middle of the night,

Among the dank castle walls,

They would hear the wails,

Of the king,

Scarred by the past.

Morning comes,

He rides abroad,

As tired as before,

Ruthlessly patrolling,

Dirty streets and alleys,

He attempts to strike with force,

A filthy wretch, back turned,

The cloak is torn to reveal…

Dark hair,

Beautiful brows,

Gleaming eyes,

Something pure and free,

Taken aback by such a rare sight,

In a land of turmoil,

He withdraws his hand of wrath,

Staring at something deep,

That called in winter months.

Standing there a woman,

Consumed by knowledge of good.

Down go the walls in a moment,

Crashing in on themselves,

The tender voice shatters him,

With gentle word, she whispers,

Moving gracefully away.

In another moment,

He rides on,

Choking on the inside,

Bitterness suffocating again,

Only to be hammered down,

The thought of her.

Part 2-

He struggles,

To regain former strength,

Yet it is like climbing,

A sheer wall,

He is drowning, pretending, gasping,

Sitting alone watching her face.

She has disappeared from the docks,

The streets and roads,

At night he rides quietly away,

To search,

Searching for soul and for her,

For life encrusted with joy,

Not gems.

Merciful, Lord!

Help him!

One so torn,

So broken,

Heart like stone,

Emotions like glass,

Eyes dart in desperation,

Never to focus,

Unless in rage.

 

Part 3-

Ripping wind,

Harsh environment,

Mirror of the man’s soul,

In a ravine,

Covered with snow,

The ruler sits with men,

Lost in the blizzard,

Crying for help,

Though he makes no sound,

What is the use?

He is ready to die,

How much better than living?

He accepts it with closed eyes,

Ready for the emptiness to end.

Just then, they hear a noise,

Music to hear,

Light bursts forth,

Triumphant and glowing,

Sheep farmers appear,

Yet that is not what the dark ruler sees,

His face melts,

As does the ice beneath her feet.

No more grimaced expression,

Does he bare,

Relief and relaxed lines,

Harsh and rough complexion,

Flee from his appearance.

Men and order,

Saved and restored,

Only, the one truly saved,

Trembles when he sees her,

What to say, what to do?

Her she is,

A blameless woman,

Confident in gaze,

Happy to see them,

Happy to see him!

Daughter of a shepherd,

Goddess of fairness,

He is softened,

Welcomed into a warm home,

Brought to table,

Brought to life.

Cameo H.

Copyright of the poem is MINE.  

Random Thoughts

  I often wonder why I chose such a ridiculous name for my blog. I mean, it's not like very many people would remember "Multi-Faceted Equestrian" off the top of their head. It's kind of embarrassing when people ask what my blog is called. It's like I am rambling off some genetic code for a particular breed of horse!    What was I thinking? And what exactly is this blog about? I can't tell you how many times I have been asked what my blog is about. The truth is that I don't really know! It was originally suppose to be about my life around horses, but I knew I had to include other areas (facets) of my life to keep readers interested. I don't know if I have succeeded. It seems that this blog has branched into other subjects and topics. Maybe I should have named it "Random Equestrian". Hmmm... I like that.....

  Anyway, I hope some of my devoted readers can hang in there over the school semester and enjoy my random posts. I will return.....

Poetry Time!

  I have always loved poetry. Whether it was Edgar Allan Poe who created "The Raven" or Alfred Lord Tennyson who captivated me with "The Lady of Shalott". Recently, I was in the mood to create some of my own poetry and sat down to write "To Capture the Emotions", a free verse poem. I am not exactly sure what inspired it, perhaps it was some recent feelings that I have been struggling to express.

 Anyway, I hope this blog will eventually contain a lot of my poetry, but please be patient with my entire blog as school starts next week. I hope to manage my time better and post some more of my works, but school (and my horse) comes first!






To Capture the Emotions

You almost have it,

The perfectly formed emotion,

The feeling you wished to portray,

To give breath to,

To give life to.

Suddenly, the page gives way,

The emotions cascade into,

A million reactions.

To capture emotion on paper,

Seems so dull,

Compared to this raging storm inside,

To this feeling burning inside you,

Words merely dance around,

Expression only drains its color.

Its vibrancy dies with explanation,

Like a candle in the wind,

Like a phantom void of life.

How exactly do you do it?

Create words to express a feeling,

So passionate, so raw,

So painful, so sorrowful,

So joyful, so energetic.

To capture the emotions,

Is to cage a rare butterfly,

You will keep it caged,

Never to comprehend its true beauty.

Cameo H.  

 

Blogger Award

1

   1)      Favorite little kid’s book (as in, kindergarten or younger)?
“Good Night Moon”. Mom read it to me so many times that I eventually memorized it all.

  
 2)      Favorite mid-elementary book?
The list goes on! I liked just about everything. I don’t know if this counts but my mom read “The Hiding Place” out loud as part of a unit study. It ended up being one of my favorites. I also loved The Kingdom Series and the Knights of Arrethrae by Chuck Black. He is still one of my favorite authors.

 I also enjoyed “The Door Within” trilogy series by Wayne Thomas Batson.

3)      Night owl or morning person?
A total night owl. I tend to come alive when it gets late. The latest I stayed up was 4:00 in the morning watching the “North and South” miniseries with some friends. It remains as one of my best memories!

4)      Do you like being that way (referencing the above question)?
I need to work on going to bed early because it gets hard on your body after a while. The more I stay up late the harder it is to get up and get my work done.

5) Plays or musicals?
 Both! I lean more towards classic musicals. My favorite musical is Phantom of the Opera. My second favorite is Les Miserables (I sing a song from this one every day. Seriously, it’s ridiculous.) I also like My Fair Lady. As for plays, I don’t think I have a favorite yet, but I do enjoy A Doll’s House and Romeo and Juliet. Really, I would rather go to a play or musical then the movie theater.

6) Favorite secular Christmas song and favorite Christian Christmas song?
I like “Peace on Earth” by Casting Crowns. I’m not too particular.

7) If you could choose what your dying words will be, what would you pick?
I don’t think I would say anything.  I would just die.

8) Which do you think is more important: justice or mercy?
 Mercy. (Unless you are Batman)

9) Why to the above?

I think that both of these go hand in hand. We should uphold justice to the best of our ability, but mercy should be the first thing we think about. Justice often comes with time. People write whole essays on this  type of question!

10) Book and/or movie that’s going to come out that you’re excited for?
The next season of BBC’s “Sherlock”.

11) If you could pick a fantasy weapon someone’s already invented (i.e., lightsabers, the Ring, Shardblades, etc.)
I have no idea. Maybe Frodo’s glowing sword?

12) Frodo or Sam?
 Sam. I have always said he is my favorite LOTR character. Even over Aragon, Arwen, and Gandalf.  I use him as a role model of a true friend for myself.

13) What do you like to snack on, or do you not snack at all?
I snack on just about anything that is available. Trail mix, a bagel, yogurt, or the couch..... Whatever I can get my hands on.

14) Three words that people often use to describe you?
According to my sister I am bossy, honest, and studious. Ever get the feeling your sibling thinks you are boring???

15) What did you want to be when you were little?
I wanted to be all kinds of things. A veterinarian, a figure skater, a wrangler, a professional mountain climber.

16) What question would you liked to be asked, and what is your answer? How about 
“Will you marry me?” from the perfect guy? If things were right, I would obviously say “yes”.

17) If you could go to lunch to meet a person from history, who would it be?
There are a lot of people that I would love to meet. Eleanor of Aquitaine, the geographer Ibn Battuta, Victor Hugo, Teddy Roosevelt, or any of the Bronte sisters (they wrote some of my favorite classic romances including Wuthering Heights by Emily Bronte). I guess I would just have to choose! 

                Thank you Liddy for the nomination! I didn’t realize that I had been nominated till Hannah D. pointed it out before the home school ball. I definitely did not deserve to be nominated because I tend to be pretty lax with blogging during school semesters and I miss a lot! Anyway thanks for the nomination, it was fun answering the questions and hopefully next time I will be paying attention. Love ya all!

My Nominations are-

Emma D.

Ruth Anna 

Abby D.

Sorry if you were already nominated....

Three questions to add to the above-

18) If you could have any expensive car in the world, what would it be?

19) Who is your favorite actor and/or actress?

20) Do you have a favorite horse breed? 

 

 

 

To Touch the Shattered Part

 

          A woman enters a room. She is clothed in a brilliant white dress with golden seams. The room that surrounds her is filled with mirrors. The mirrors represent the reflections of a person’s life. The air is damp and the wind blows. It has taken the woman a long time to gain access to this room. In the center of this room is the largest mirror. This one represents the person’s heart. It is broken. The woman kneels to pick up a shattered piece, cutting her finger as she does so. She does not recoil or cry out. For she knows the greater pain remains in the shattered part. The broken pieces of a person’s life…….

          It breaks my heart to think that I can look into a person’s eyes and talk to them every day and never see their “shattered part”. Too often we think we know a person and what they have been through. Or we dance around on different, less painful subjects that steer clear of the real aspects of life. Further, what if we make it into the painful areas of a person’s life? Can we be trusted with what we find there? The “shattered area” is the most heavily guarded for that reason-Misinterpretation by other people. People go about with the reflection of a smile, a happy attitude, a pleasant demeanor only to hide the real level of their emotions.

         

        I would feel honored to uncover the shattered part of a person, to be their loyal friend, worthy of their trust and the guardian of their pain. I understand that there is always the risk of getting hurt while coming close to the pain of others. Then, the real challenge would be for me to go deeper then the surface level conversation of my own life to express what I have been through. Everyone has a broken mirror, but the decision to allow someone to look at that mirror is a challenge. 

Copyright is Mine. Please ask or cite my blog before using any text!!!

Image from Bing Images.

The Barn

 

I just thought I would post this little blurb real quick. I am still suffering from a cough and runny nose, but at least I have recovered from downcast emotions!

 Truly, I am sick of being sick. Today, I made up my mind that no matter how awful I felt I would go to the barn and see my horse. Oh, how I have missed her and it pulls on my heart strings to think that I have spent a limited amount of time with her over the fall semester and even over the summer of 2014. As I ran my fingers through her furry coat I almost felt like crying. So this is what students that own horses feel like; like we are being ripped towards two different places. One place holds the challenge of higher education and the other place is a peace filled barn.

 Anyway, I tend to think my darkest thoughts when I am not feeling well. I even get cranky and anxious. I guess it’s the fact that all I do is watch movies or lay in bed. It’s the perfect recipe for depression and irritability. However, the trip to the barn in the howling wind was a pick-me-up. Further, despite the weather, I found my surroundings to be filled with pleasant things. Like when the sun hits a bunch of blowing snow. It’s almost like someone threw a bunch of diamonds in the air to reflect the sun’s beauty. As I walked into the barn with my horse to escape the cold these gems blew through a window above our heads. At the same time a magpie took flight through the flurry, its silky wings glowing.  At last, I have found some peace, right here at the barn.