Horses, like all animals, live in the moment. They’re in tune with their surroundings—aware of the turkey in the next field, the start up of the truck that brings their hay, or if you’ve got a carrot in your pocket. That presence, harmony and connection is something most of us want more of.

For the past six weeks, I’ve been experimenting with what horsemanship instructor Carolyn Resnick calls the Chair Challenge, “sharing territory” with my horse, Tank. Mostly it involves simply sitting in a chair in his paddock. Some days I read, some days I write in my barn journal. Others, I just sit and listen and look. The theory is that this practice develops a stronger bond between us, by “achieving a companionship experience and connection in the moment in harmony and unity.” We so often only spend time with our horses when we want to do something with them, when we have expectations. Simply hanging out allows us both to relax and become more in tune with each other.

When I first started this practice, my mind scrabbled around like a trapped lizard. I found it almost impossible to sit and do nothing. No matter how much I profess to want a present life, I more often than not careen through my day—racing from checking emails, to working out, to writing a blog post to cleaning the bathroom to running errands.

At first, Tank was puzzled. Apparently, he’s absorbed my “we must be doing something all the time” attitude, and my journal entries record that he nudged me, nibbled on my magazine, journal, and pen. He still tries to do this sometimes, especially if he’s bored, and I have to shoo him away. At other times he’s happy to stand in his favorite spot looking out beyond the fence line, or doze in the corner of his shelter. I love it when he stands near me, gives a nice long sigh, and we savor the peace of being together with no agenda.  That’s when I realize one of the most pleasurable of the benefits of this exercise: harmony, living in the moment, the sheer pleasure of sharing space with this beautiful animal.

While I still have to fight my desire to “accomplish something” when I go to the barn, I’ve also started to crave the peaceful togetherness of sharing territory. Of hearing the tap-tapping of a pileated woodpecker, the haunting cry of a hawk. Of seeing sand, sky, puffy white clouds, scrubby woods bordering the paddocks. Of feeling Tank’s muzzle nudging me or resting for a moment on the top of my head. The quiet within the quiet. No one around, no sound of traffic or people.

Yesterday, I even found myself using this technique while waiting for a prescription to be filled. I stopped fidgeting, checking my phone for the time and mentally ticking off the next three items on my to-do list, in favor of sitting calmly, breathing slowly, and observing what was going on around me.

So what does this have to do with you, most likely a non-horse owner? The lesson is: if you want peace, harmony and connection, stop, look, listen, and be. Slow down especially when you feel called upon to rush. Quiet your thoughts, let your body relax. Let the moment draw out as long and smooth as possible.

You don’t need a green plastic chair and an American Quarter Horse. Wherever you are, slow down. Pay attention. Don’t miss the daily simple pleasures that are right there for your enjoyment.

“Happiness is a sunbeam which may pass through a thousand bosoms without losing a particle of its original ray; nay, when it strikes on a kindred heart, like the converged light on a mirror, it reflects itself with redoubled brightness. It is not perfected till it is shared.”

—Jane Porter

It’s time once again for Link Love, a round up of links I hope you’ll find as entertaining and thought provoking as I did.

Bloggers are an opinionated bunch. We offer stories and advice, hoping to connect with readers and make their lives better. But as Courtney Carver writes in “I Don’t Know What’s Best for You”:

A skill I need to develop—learning how to be comfortable with other people feeling uncomfortable.

Overwhelm. It happens to the best of us. Here’s one way to stop it from derailing your day. 

I enjoy many of David’s posts on his blog, Raptitude. In this one, he shared “4 Absurdly Easy Things I Do That Make Life Disproportionately Better.” What four things would make your list? One of mine: Put the coffee pot on a timer so it’s ready when we wake up!

I read a lot of non-fiction, but I’m embarrassed to say my memory of what I read is often spotty. I’m thinking of trying Michael Hyatt’s ideas from “How to Make Your Non-fiction Reading More Productive.” 

Just discovered the website Art to Self after hearing a podcast interview with artist Steph Halligan. What a terrific idea! I’ve been back several times. One of my favorite “notes”: “It’s Meant to Fall Away.” 

This made me laugh:

Introduction by Ted Kooser: The next time you open your closet, this poem will give you reason to pay a little more attention to what's hanging inside. Gary Whited is from Massachusetts and his most recent book is Having Listened, (Homebound Publications, 2013).

My Blue Shirt

hangs in the closet

of this small room, collar open,

sleeves empty, tail wrinkled.

Nothing fills the shirt but air

and my faint scent. It waits,

all seven buttons undone,

button holes slack,

the soft fabric with its square white pattern,

all of it waiting for a body.

It would take any body, though it knows,

in its shirt way of knowing, only mine

has my shape in its wrinkles,

my bend in the elbows.

Outside this room birds hunt for food,

young leaves drink in morning sunlight,

people pass on their way to breakfast.

Yet here, in this closet,

the blue shirt needs nothing,

expects nothing, knows only its shirt knowledge,

that I am now learning—

how to be private and patient,

how to be unbuttoned,

how to carry the scent of what has worn me,

and to know myself by the wrinkles.

American Life in Poetry is made possible by The Poetry Foundation (www.poetryfoundation.org), publisher of Poetry magazine. It is also supported by the Department of English at the University of Nebraska, Lincoln. Poem copyright ©2013 by Gary Whited, “My Blue Shirt,” from Having Listened, (Homebound Publications, 2013). Poem reprinted by permission of Gary Whited and the publisher. Introduction copyright ©2017 by The Poetry Foundation. The introduction’s author, Ted Kooser, served as United States Poet Laureate Consultant in Poetry to the Library of Congress from 2004-2006. We do not accept unsolicited manuscripts.

Here’s the story as I’ve heard it: many years ago, Brad Isaac was hanging around comedy clubs and doing open mic nights, and had the chance to ask Jerry Seinfeld, who was performing in the same club, for his advice for a young comic. Seinfeld replied that the way to be a better comic was to create better jokes. The way to create better jokes was to write every day. Get yourself a large, year-at-a-glance calendar, Seinfeld advised. Write some new material every day, and when you do, mark the day on the calendar with a big red X. “After a few days you’ll have a chain. Just keep at it and the chain will grow longer every day. You’ll like seeing that chain, especially when you get a few weeks under your belt. Your only job next is to not break the chain. Don’t break the chain.” 

Don’t break the chain.

Recently, I’ve put this idea into practice, with good results. For years I’ve been saying I want to sketch more, and now I have a compelling reason to hone my skills. I’m preparing to join Laure Ferlita’s Blue Walk tour in England in August, and I want to be able to sketch what I see. Back in January of 2015 I challenged myself to sketch for 31 days straight, and saw a vast improvement, so I decided to try sketching every day again. I started Sept. 26, 2016, and I’m still going.

Of course, you can apply “don’t break the chain” thinking to any habit or practice you’re serious about continuing:

It’s a remarkably effective technique, but it can seem a little intimidating to commit to doing something every day. Here are a few things that made the process easier for me:

My goal was so small it felt ridiculous not to meet it: five minutes of sketching every day. Most days, I spend more than five minutes, but having such a small, and very, very achievable goal makes me pick up my pencil and sketchbook. Even when I’m tired, distracted or simply “don’t wanna,” five minutes is still doable.

Every day in my calendar I’ve written the word “sketch,” so every time I check my to-do list I’m reminded of the habit I’m building.

Place whatever you need for your habit in a prominent place. I store my sketching things next to my favorite chair in our family room, and I carry a small sketch kit in my purse.

Use a visual tracking system so you can see the chain. Mark the calendar day with a big red X, as Seinfeld suggested, or print out this free “Don’t’ Break the Chain” calendar. There are also “Don’t Break the Chain” apps for both Apple and Android.

When I tire of sketching items in my family room, I take my sketchbook to the backyard, the barn, or a coffee shop. I’ve sketched from photos and from life. I’ve tried pencil, pen, and watercolor. I’ve worked on larger sketches for more than one day.

Creating helpful and positive habits can make us happier. I know I’m happier when I actually do the things I say I want to do, and the technique of “Don’t Break the Chain” has helped me establish a regular habit of sketching. Not only do my sketches look better, I’m also less afraid to sketch in the first place, since now it’s just something I do.