I’m a big believer in small beginnings. Layers of experience. One on top of the other. And before you know it, you’ve mastered something.

Like these two vaulters who are learning how to approach the equestrian vaulting horse in preparation for the mount. You can see they’re a little timid. This is the first time they’ve done this. Shakespear is awfully large. But as we moved from walk to trot to canter, the smiles got bigger and bigger on their faces. They became more exhilarated. That’s what happens when you’re sprouting wings.

You have to run out along the longe line, facing forward, with determination, towards the horse’s head, like you mean it. Commitment is what this is. And, as the horse passes to your right, which he inevitably will because his legs are a lot longer than yours and he has four of them, you raise your arms and all of a sudden the handles are miraculously there for you to grab onto. You run a few strides alongside of the Irish Draft and then punch your feet forward and let your hips swing up.

We stopped there.

I don’t have video of the cantering. All that cantering. Because in the absence of our experienced teenage vaulter who can demonstrate all of this to the newbies, they got me instead. And as I felt Shakespeare's long stride picking me up off of the ground, I was suddenly all smiles too.

I like the idea of passing down this knowledge from the mature to the young. Funny how you can be my age and not have the lithe body with all of that budding potential in it like these girls and still teach them how to play their strong physical (and spiritual) selves like instruments.

It reminds me of this framed poster of a painting by fabulous artist Michael Parkes that hangs in my daughter’s room. Leda’s Daughter. I think it speaks for itself.

Small beginnings.