Emory Ranch Airport

01/09/2026

https://m.facebook.com/story.php?story_fbid=1317496827082202&id=100064656920072&mibextid=wwXIfr

There’s something quietly radical about the way Amy Grant has returned to new music.

After years away from releasing a fully original album, she hasn’t come back louder, faster, or bigger. She’s come back softer. Wiser. More intentional. And her new song, The 6th of January (Yasgur’s Farm), reflects that choice in every note.

The track doesn’t push. It doesn’t demand attention. Instead, it invites it — slowly. Like a conversation you didn’t know you needed, but don’t want to end once it starts.

Listening to it feels like watching someone take in the state of the world — the division, the exhaustion, the longing — and respond not with answers, but with compassion. It’s faith expressed as humanity. Hope expressed as listening.

That’s what makes this release feel so timely. In an era of constant noise, Amy Grant chose stillness. In a culture obsessed with immediacy, she chose patience.

And maybe that’s why this song is landing the way it is. Because when an artist waits until they truly have something to say, the music carries weight. It doesn’t fade quickly. It stays.

This isn’t about charts or headlines. It’s about meaning. And if this song is any indication, Amy Grant’s next chapter may be quieter — but it’s also deeper.

If you’re curious why so many listeners are leaning in instead of scrolling past, this song is a good place to start.

10/07/2025

Horses are emotional sponges. If they can’t flee or fight (their natural coping strategies), the stress turns inward.

This is what I feel is happening in those moments of freeze.

What cannot be expressed, must be absorbed.

Horses, as prey animals, are deeply tuned to flight. It’s their natural form of processing overwhelm — movement is medicine for their nervous systems.

But in domestic life, this natural discharge is often blocked:

Fences replace open fields.

Halters and ropes limit choice.

Social dynamics may be fixed.

Humans may not recognize subtle signs of stress.

So the horse can’t flee, and often can’t fight (they’d be reprimanded). What’s left?

Freeze.

The third survival strategy, often misread as calm or obedience, is actually a state of nervous system shutdown — a silent scream.

The Freeze Response as a Philosophical State

Freeze is not just a nervous system condition — it’s a spiritual and existential posture.

It is:

A dimming of agency.

A withholding of essence.

A state of holding life at bay — not fully here, but not fully gone.

In this state, the horse is not being in the present. They're surviving it.

What is lost?

Vitality. Curiosity. Authentic expression. The very soulful aliveness that makes horses who they are.

Freeze is a kind of suspension of self, a quiet grief of not being able to be what you are: fluid, alert, and responsive.

Horses don’t just feel their own bodies — they feel ours. They read:

The invisible language of our posture and breath.

The underlying emotional current, even beneath the words.

The unspoken becomes, for them, a felt truth.

When a horse lives in chronic stress (whether their own or ours) and can't move it out, it doesn’t disappear — it moves inward:

Into the gut (ulcers, colic).

Into the fascia (tension patterns).

Into the behavior (aggression, withdrawal).

Into the soul (a loss of sparkle, curiosity, connection).

We say they are “sponges” not because they are passive absorbers, but because they are relational beings — deeply attuned to the field around them, designed to keep the herd (and now, us) safe through feeling everything.

The Path Back from Freeze

Coming out of freeze is not dramatic. It’s quiet.

A lick.

A sigh.

A blink.

A moment of curiosity.

The body begins to trust the present again.

Philosophically, this is a return to aliveness.

Not just survival, but existence with agency.

And that’s a sacred gift that we can give to our horses by becoming the guardian they need in these moments.

05/27/2025

He stands in silence. Without a rider. Without glory. Only an empty saddle and a heavy, hunched body. Before you is a monument to the horse that went through war. His rider did not return. And now he stands as a symbol of all those who fought without a choice, who carried pain, weight, and death on their backs.

This monument is located in Lexington, Virginia. But its meaning is universal. It honors all horses lost in wars — especially during the American Civil War. It’s known as The Riderless Horse. And in its silence, there is more sorrow than a thousand words could express.

This is not just bronze. This is grief. This is honor. This is a memory of those who had no voice, yet served until their final breath. His lowered head is a prayer. His empty saddle is a loss. His posture is a testament to loyalty that asks no questions — it simply goes… until it falls.

We bow not only to the soldiers who fought. We bow to those who carried them — through mud, through fire, through fear… and still moved forward.

Because sometimes, the truest heroes are silent.

04/02/2025

RIP Val Kilmer
"There's no normal life Wyatt.
It's just life.
Get on with it. "

03/28/2025

03/08/2025

🚨✈️ SoCal Air Show 2025 is almost here!✈️🚨
📍 March Air Reserve Base
📅 April 12-13, 2025
⏰ Gates open at 8 AM | Show starts at 10 AM
🎟 FREE admission!
Don’t miss this high-flying weekend of excitement! 🔥

02/14/2025

We are gearing up for our second intro to Equine Assisted Therapy with Catherin Hand, Mindfulness with Dr. Beth Turner, therapeutic riding and more. If you know anyone with a medical diagnosis: physical, mental or emotion, first responders, veterans and the families of all the above, please share this flyer with them and ask them to share also. If you would like to learn HOW to do these modalities, please contact me asap as we are holding training sessions for the next couple of weeks. And don't forget that we have 30 horses and ponies that are looking for their forever homes. Please come and visit and find your forever friend!!