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The zen of riding
Sep. 5th, 2006 08:45 amI thought that after a week off our lesson would not go very well. The day was cool and grey with the mountains partially shrouded in clouds. The arena sand was damp and the brown, grey, silvery blue and green of our surroundings were quite soothing. We got to work and Phoebus was somewhat resistant. Not terrible, but not enthusiastic- basically his usual self. After warming up we got some good right lead canter transitions, but as usual we still missed a few times. We went to the left and for the first time Phoebus threw in a right lead, which surprised me greatly. We did lots of trot-canter, canter-trot, trot-walk, and walk-trot transitions. Peggy had me push Phoebus for quicker upward transitions, and a bigger trot, without rushing it. She told me to get him rounder, explaining that although the horse was in a frame, he was not as through as he needed to be. I could feel the tension in him, and she encouraged me to try and get him to stretch. She said that it was okay if he put his head and neck down some, as long as he brought his SHOULDERS up. This is something Bent had me work on in the past, and at the time I didn't really understand it. I wondered why he had told me to lengthen my reins, and why he seemed glad when the horse lowered his head and neck. I thought he was simply trying to get him to lengthen his stride, but it never occurred to me that he wanted the horse to use his back more. I had thought that the more advanced your horse, the higher his head and neck. Now I finally understood what Peggy was telling me. The horse had his neck arched and his face on the vertical, and was holding them there himself, but his back was not rounded and his hind legs were not stepping through as much as they should. It wasn't that he was completely hollow, like horses I've ridden in that past that stick their noses in the air and travel with a stiff neck, it was more subtle. At first Phoebus simply continued to hold himself, but as I concentrated on staying centered, stretching my legs down, and visualizing his body molded around a ball, he began to respond. I tried to relax and breath more deeply, and I noticed his neck dropping a little and felt his back get more round.
"There!" I heard Peggy say, "Good, now, don't quit. Don't be so safe all the time. Keep it." The trot is bigger and it's harder to sit, and I know why she's saying this- it's easier to just bebop along at a more collected trot where the horse isn't expending as much effort and is happy to just hang out.
I think about tension and I feel Phoebus holding tension in his side, even though he's relaxed his back over the topline. I ask him to give on the inside rein, and he refuses. It's an argument he insists on having time and again. I tug on the rein and he continues to resist, sticking to his guns even though they're not loaded-- he's wearing draw reins for just this sort of thing, so I take up on the draw rein and insist. He fights it for a good dozen strides, but the extra leverage makes it possible for me to force the issue and eventually he gives in. "Good!" Peggy yells, "THAT'S the kind of fight you want to pick and WIN!" Phoebus tries a few more times, but eventually gives in and I'm able to slacken the draw reins again (I don't like them but I admit they can be very useful on occasion). He starts giving to the regular reins and his circle gets rounder and his stride gets more free.
Peggy starts telling me to put the horse more into the outside rein, which I've been working on anyway- we work on doing shoulder-fore and bringing Phoebus's shoulders in a little and pushing them over as he tends, like many horses, to travel crookedly with his shoulders to the outside. We're still going to the right, our harder side, and suddenly I get it. I can feel the connection from the hind legs to the bit. It's like Phoebus's hind legs are the wall outlet, my body and the reins are the extension cord, and his head is the fridge (cuz that's where all the food goes in ^_^). It's like there's a current and a circuit and I'm part of it. I've felt energy coming from the hindquarters before, and caught it in the bridle, but this is different. It's like I'm part of it, instead of being on the outside and just reaching in to direct the flow. "Very nice," I hear Peggy say, "that's excellent". I tell her about my discovery and she nods. "Now you know," she says. "I remember when I figured it out, what horse I was riding and exactly where it was. Now you want to get that all the time." Ah, always the clincher. We work a little more and keep the connection. I go to the left and lose it. I try to get it back and it's harder, but I find it a little bit. We spend the last few minutes discussion the lesson and dressage philosophy, and I try to absorb everything I've learned. My martial arts teacher used to say that when you learn a technique and perform it correctly, the feeling should be like the ringing of a bell. Each time you do it thereafter you should try to replicate those actions and get that same feeling, like an echo of the original tone.
"We're like monks on a mountaintop," I say. "Especially Phoebus." Poor gelding jokes...
"There!" I heard Peggy say, "Good, now, don't quit. Don't be so safe all the time. Keep it." The trot is bigger and it's harder to sit, and I know why she's saying this- it's easier to just bebop along at a more collected trot where the horse isn't expending as much effort and is happy to just hang out.
I think about tension and I feel Phoebus holding tension in his side, even though he's relaxed his back over the topline. I ask him to give on the inside rein, and he refuses. It's an argument he insists on having time and again. I tug on the rein and he continues to resist, sticking to his guns even though they're not loaded-- he's wearing draw reins for just this sort of thing, so I take up on the draw rein and insist. He fights it for a good dozen strides, but the extra leverage makes it possible for me to force the issue and eventually he gives in. "Good!" Peggy yells, "THAT'S the kind of fight you want to pick and WIN!" Phoebus tries a few more times, but eventually gives in and I'm able to slacken the draw reins again (I don't like them but I admit they can be very useful on occasion). He starts giving to the regular reins and his circle gets rounder and his stride gets more free.
Peggy starts telling me to put the horse more into the outside rein, which I've been working on anyway- we work on doing shoulder-fore and bringing Phoebus's shoulders in a little and pushing them over as he tends, like many horses, to travel crookedly with his shoulders to the outside. We're still going to the right, our harder side, and suddenly I get it. I can feel the connection from the hind legs to the bit. It's like Phoebus's hind legs are the wall outlet, my body and the reins are the extension cord, and his head is the fridge (cuz that's where all the food goes in ^_^). It's like there's a current and a circuit and I'm part of it. I've felt energy coming from the hindquarters before, and caught it in the bridle, but this is different. It's like I'm part of it, instead of being on the outside and just reaching in to direct the flow. "Very nice," I hear Peggy say, "that's excellent". I tell her about my discovery and she nods. "Now you know," she says. "I remember when I figured it out, what horse I was riding and exactly where it was. Now you want to get that all the time." Ah, always the clincher. We work a little more and keep the connection. I go to the left and lose it. I try to get it back and it's harder, but I find it a little bit. We spend the last few minutes discussion the lesson and dressage philosophy, and I try to absorb everything I've learned. My martial arts teacher used to say that when you learn a technique and perform it correctly, the feeling should be like the ringing of a bell. Each time you do it thereafter you should try to replicate those actions and get that same feeling, like an echo of the original tone.
"We're like monks on a mountaintop," I say. "Especially Phoebus." Poor gelding jokes...
