I am not a horseman . . . although I’ve always thought it would be cool to be one. I certainly admire others when they ride horses, especially when their bodies seem to be at-one with the horse, a seamless union, a hand-in-glove orchestration of movement, a marriage of human and equine beast. It could aptly be called a symphony of athletic prowess equal to what is displayed in any other sport.

I’ve watched as expert horsemen and women have shown off by riding two horses at the same time; both animals running side by side in tandem, with the rider’s feet distributed one-foot-to-each-horse’s back.

Dangerous? Without a doubt! Complicated? No question about it!

But I’ve never seen the horses split apart without spilling the rider. Obviously, it can’t be done. You can run them around in a corral, or on a straightaway. But if the road forks . . . LOOK OUT!

Such has been the ride we have been on the last few years, investing in a naturalistic, homeopathic approach to healing all the while embracing the medical model, too. But there is a fork in the road up ahead. And we have a choice to make. We can’t ride both horses anymore.

We all make multiple decisions every day, don’t we? What to wear, what to eat, where to invest our time and energy? We make political decisions that we hope are in the best interest of our country, our community, our neighborhood . . . or (at least) ourselves. We make mental and/or emotional decisions, too, allowing ourselves to ponder, plot, or imagine certain things.

And sometimes we say, “Decisions, decisions, decisions,” in an attempt to reveal our frustration, or our busyness, or engage in a bit of lighthearted fun.

But some decisions are more grave, more weighty, more profound. We make decisions about faith; whether to believe in a Supreme Being, or to entrust ourselves to a friend, or to evaluate the diagnosis of a medical professional in light of the plethora of health and wellness ideas floating like cottonwood in the air. And in those times we face the proverbial Great Divide, where to stay on middle ground is impossible, because the only footing available is only as wide as a razor blade.

So, what do we do? We cannot ride both horses any longer; to try to do so is foolhardy at best, and deadly at worst.

The only thing to do is step out in faith. You weigh your options on a scale, and barring any great leaning you simply take a step. If you immediately lose footing and start to slide down the slope, then you course correct and choose another option. But if not . . . you ride that horse until you can dismount safely, or you keep on riding if that seems profitable.

We plan to give our chosen approach about 30 days. If there is no marked improvement, we will dismount, wrangle the other horse we left grazing in the pasture, then saddle up and ride into the sunset. We remain hopeful for positive results. In fact . . . thank goodness we have options from which to choose.