On the other hand, they're still bad.

Don’t hands matter anymore?

     In the process of learning how to ride, (and the way I ride to this day), I learned the ‘correct way’ to hold the reins.

     This being: The reins enter one’s palms between the pinky and ring finger, in contact with the hand itself. The rein continues up through the palm and exits forward (i.e., towards the horse’s neck), with the thumb  up and flat on the rein.   One held/holds the reins as if they were eggs. Space between the hands in a straight line from the bit to one’s elbows, which are tucked neatly alongside one’s ribs. The height should be no more than a few inches...one very good teacher told me to hold my hands only as high as an extended pinky could touch the withers.  

     Paying attention to what they’re doing has helped me develop what I’ve been complimented on as being ‘good” ‘soft’ ‘following’ hands.

    What inspired this particular post was seeing a photo of a Western Equitation rider with her hands waving about at shoulder height...HER shoulder height. Ah ha, said my now chained anti-Western Equitation demon, another way I can show how superior ‘english’ or ‘dressage’ is to WE.

     But I have learned to keep her muzzled before I shoot off my mouth, so I did a lot of Google Image searching with the search term “hands on reins’.  As hands are always connected to the rider’s arms, every photo had an example.

   What I found is depressing.

     It’s not just Western Equitation riders who don’t seem to know how to hold the reins. It seems NOBODY-not Western, not English, not dressage, certainly not jumpers or jockeys-holds the reins the ‘’’correct’’’ way. I looked at a LOT of photos, from all over the horse riding spectrum, and saw all sorts of styles. I could forgive beginners or horse husbands or kids, but I saw FEI riders making the same mistakes.

  Here is a sample of the rogue's gallery:

     I was amazed at the many ways riders hold the reins. Some hold the reins with palm up, or palms down, or out to the sides. Some were pinching a rein between thumb and forefinger, some as if holding a serving tray, many of the Western Equitation dangling them a foot or more above the neck. One or two pictured women holding the reins as if they were live snakes.

 

    I am including a picture (below) said to be from “Vogue”... a magazine that is published, it seems solely to market stuff to rich women. Look at this photo. I'd originally intended it to be an example of VERY bad hands, but it was just so full of 'wrong' I couldn't believe it. There are so many things wrong about this bimbo on horseback you just KNOW she’s never been on a horse in her life. I’m almost afraid for her...her boots, her bare knees, she’s bouncing up and down without a helmet. If she had pockets her hands would be in them, reins and all. But I must say that is one gorgeous horse. Not HERS, mind you.

 

    I even watch the riders in my own barn. Only one person other than me seems to be paying attention to how she holds her reins. I can’t bear to watch our Barnlord give a riding lesson, as she advocates holding the reins up in the air.

    Yes, I did find some hands that were correct. Finding a photo of ‘good hands’ was far more difficult than I would have ever dreamed.

    This rider’s hands are pretty much exactly what I’ve learned from good books.

But the vast majority of pictures of hands on the reins show them to be anything but correct.

    Which begs the question: is the way one holds the reins that important?

    I confess I am not experienced enough to be able to state conclusively that it is.

   Perhaps I’m looking at it the wrong way. Perhaps I’m speaking only from fairly recently acquired ‘experience’, and the horses I’ve ridden since doing so number equal two.

   Maybe I’m missing something. Because I found this:

   This single hand, apparently that of an older man, is riding in a bosal. I know nothing about this specific bridle/ reins, so I don’t know if this hold is correct or not.

   Somehow, though, I get the feeling that his hand is gentle. How a man’s hands can appear to be sensitive and giving, I don’t know. It just looks to be kind and respectful. It even appears as if he is also holding a rope. One doesn’t think of a roper having good hands. Yet, this is a gentle, giving hand. 

   Maybe it’s me, then? Am I too anal? Are sloppy hands okay now?

Riding wisdom from 1899 is still relevant today

One of the joys when you have time on your hands, is to surf the net without a certain destination in mind.  Often it's a waste of time-but sometimes you stumble on gold.

So saying, I discovered Google Books, and somehow, this poem popped up. It's lovely. 
It's titled "Hands", by W.Phillpott Williams. It was published in "Bailey's Magazine of Sports and Pastimes" (volume 72, 1899) in England.  The magazine itself has at least a dozen  articles,all of them having something to do with the sportsman of that era: riding to hounds, yachting, hunting farm raised and released pheasants (sorry, not much sport there, in my mind). But most of it was regarding horses.  

What I like about this poem is that it is still so very applicable to today's riding. 

Herewith, my friends, is "Hands"

My apology to Western Equitation and the evils of Rollkur

Lifted from "The Mugwump Chronicles" a Word Press blog.

Before I begin this rant, let me relate something I learned from one of my massage clients.

A woman owned a very lovely Arabian stallion. She’d bred and raised him. He was a complete gentleman. She could hand breed him or let him out with his mares. She could lead him past a mare in raging heat without him turning a head or a hair.

He was gentle as a lamb, beautifully bred, well conformed, and perfectly trained.

He could not win in the show ring. 

Why?

Well…then..as now…judges didn’t want to see a gentle, quiet, gentleman of an Arabian stallion. They wanted to see a hyped up psycho on a lead, racing into the show ring on hind legs, eyes bulging, nostrils wide, screaming his head off, dragging his handler by the lead rope. They wanted to see flash and insanity, not a well-trained, quiet horse. A horse galloping, spinning, kicking, bucking was far more entertaining than a quiet stallion you could reliably put a toddler on. 

The tales of an Arabian stallion (or any gender) being artificially jazzed up  before ever entering the show ring…with drugs, whippings, insertion of foreign objects into its anus…are not apocryphal, or even anecdotal. They are true. It’s all to win a piece of fabric. 

The owner was excused from a show ring on more than one occasion because her stallion wasn’t insane. She was accused on more than one occasion of ‘sedating’ him. WHY sedate a quiet horse? She retired him from showing because she was disgusted with the expectations of a registry more impressed with insanity than horse training. 

To continue:

There are times when I have to admit I am wrong.

Now is one of them.

In the past, I’ve been a fairly harsh critic of “western equitation”. Most especially, I’ve disliked, vociferously, the WE’s fashion for the horse to go ‘low and slow’. Their horse’s gaits are so very slow, slow enough that a lame human like myself can easily keep up on foot beside a ‘’’jogging’’ (trotting) Quarter Horse.

What I disliked most, though, was the fashion for ‘peanut rolling”. 

Well, at least he's on a loose rein

This was the form they approved of, one where the horse’s nose is a mere handful of inches above the ground. I could always tell, just by ear, when a Western Equitation class was being held in an arena, just from the coughing of the horse.

I still don’t like it, because it appears to me as if the low hanging heads were forced into that position.

Now I wonder if I was wrong because of typical bias, or wrong because while I’ve heard that the way they’re ‘trained’ is by tying their head high the night before a show, I’ve never actually witnessed it.  Somehow, though, I believe that it’s forced carriage. While a horse at liberty does carry his head relatively low, it’s not THAT low. 

In the past few years, I’ve heard that WE judges have changed their positions and now want to see a higher, more traditional head carriage, and a more natural speed of trot and canter. This is good news, and more power to them.

My bias has showed in my failure to attack the opposite position, that of rollkur , an affectation that is now common in upper level dressage. (This was not intentional. I don’t have the opportunity to see upper level, international dressage.)  

Is this a happy horse? NOT. His rider is a VERY famous and professional rider. This is "rollkur'.

 “Rollkur’ also known as ‘deep’, took the dressage world by storm. No one protested, because deep pocketed donors liked it, and famous riders and trainers did it. Suddenly, the horse that was ‘deep’ was winning despite not being correct.  In rollkur (I won’t go into the biomechanics of it too deeply), the horse’s head is sharply overbent, in some cases, the horse’s chin is literally touching it's chest. (as in the photo above).

WHY this occurred is beyond me. Was is it to give the impression of collection? Obedience? (to me, it looks like abject submission.) Acceptance of the bit? Or, was it more one of “that is so cool looking”? 

I think it is the latter. Dressage people, it appears, are no more resistant to a fad than any spangled, teal colored  spandex ‘western’ body suit than any Western Equitation costume designer. Flash wins ribbons. 
 

Butt ugly, but that's what wins ribbons. Don't think the clothing manufacturers wouldn't love to convince the FEI to accept shit like this in the gravy train of  dressage.

 
Like my friend’s Arabian stallion, substance, gentle, proper training and presentation gets the gate.

What is even more offensive is that several people who should know better, went all aboard on rollkur. It’s one thing to say, I want my horse to look like this because I’ll do anything-even hurt the horse- to get the prize.  It’s another, offensive thing altogether to say, if you don’t agree with me then you are obviously a moron. It is utterly criminal for the judges to flop over in acceptance of rollkur, in complete denial of the very rules they are hired to adhere to. 

Dressage ideology used to be based on the concept that things like collection must be achieved correctly and NOT by the use of force. Perhaps in the days since I learned about the basics of dressage, that has been dismissed. Perhaps the line about a horse’s head being ‘vertical’, neither ahead or behind the bit, fell off the page as the regulation was being printed. It certainly is being ignored by FEI judges.

Rollkur is, in reality, ‘overbent’ to a ridiculous degree. The rollkur horse is so far behind the vertical (aka behind the bit) there IS no ‘vertical’. It’s ‘diagonal’. It is achieved, in many cases, by bits that are decidedly NOT a ‘simple snaffle’ or a curb. 
No, they look at this monstrosity:

I see three sets of reins, and this 'double bridle' doesn't look very gentle.

Being ‘overbent’ or ‘behind the bit’ allows for higher movement in front, yet another concept of dressage being subsumed by flash. Now you see upper level horses (like Moorland Totilas) doing “high school’ movements in the same vein as Spanish riding.  I remember watching the World Equestrian Game’s horses in freestyle dressage…and Totilas won, I believe, by his high stepping.  

 This was NOT what I learned of classical dressage in the 70’s. In those days, balance, harmony and symmetry was the desired picture, not the  high stepping (in front and shuffling in back ) of a circus horse. But…when big money/big names take on a fad, even the FEI is not immune to the pressures.

As seems to be the case in competitive horse showing, dressage people are no different from the WE folks in going to extremes. Here’s a photo of a horse being ‘trained’ into carrying its head in “rollkur’.

 

This is not 'training'. It is  TORTURE.

 How different is this from a Western Equitation horse I saw being ‘trained’ by having her head tied by the bit to the cinch of the western saddle on her back? Was this ‘suppling”? Is this picture showing a horse ‘in training’? No. (note, too, how gaunt he is).

This isn’t ‘training’. It’s TORTURE. There’s not a bit of difference in the mindset here: force a horse into a physical position. Not one whit. Different flavor of horsemanship, but still-forcing a horse to hold its head in a way unnatural and uncomfortable, all for the sake of fashion, is CRUEL. It is abuse. It is certainly not Horsemanship. 

Now I begin to see that the WE folks, perhaps, weren't alone in training their horses to go in a specific head carriage for fad reasons, although I can’t think of a good reason for it, any more than I can justify rollkur.  In a nutshell, I believe in allowing a horse to carry his head like he wants. 

So. To the Western Equitation folks, I apologize. I was wrong. I was being a snob. If your horse rolls peanuts WITHOUT BEING FORCED, more power to him…and you.

So now we come to Raven.

Sue and I have been riding Raven on a very loose rein for about a year.

Raven has a long back, so it is difficult for him to shift his weight to his hindquarters. He’s heavy on the forehand. In addition, he had a heavy, ‘upside down’ neck, coming from that heavy on the forehand work. 

Sue came to the realization that Raven wasn’t happy with the typical collection, or being on the bit. 

So she let him have his head, literally. We’re still making him ‘work’ but not “in a frame”. By allowing him to trot, canter and mostly walk on a relatively long, relaxed rein, we are seeing something interesting: his neck has slimmed and has, over time, become arched. His back is coming up underneath us, and he is carrying himself. The underside of his neck is no longer bulging out. Allowing him to ride with his head down allows his back to come up, his weight shift back and his forehand to lighten. 

Here is how it works:

This is the mechanics of equine movement.

Most importantly, he has stopped ‘arguing’. This is not to say they were fighting, but Raven would not ‘listen’ to Sue. 

When she gave him more rein, his resistance stopped. He began to dance with her. His head came down and his eye brightened. 

To add: this is how a natural lowered head looks, and how Raven is traveling now.

Now I’m not saying he’s peanut rolling. Far from it, literally. He’s carrying it where he wants to carry it. The difference in his attitude and happiness is amazing. He always has been a good work horse, always ready to be ridden and worked. But now he is happier, in ways I cannot elucidate. Is it ‘pretty’? That depends on your definition of pretty. I think seeing a horse carrying himself, with a calm tail and a happy face, is far more attractive than a wired up horse in chains.

 I took a lesson on him a while ago, and the trainer kept urging me to take up more rein. I found myself holding onto the bit with hands of iron, and I don’t like that. I didn’t feel him ‘seeking contact”. I felt myself with a rock hard grip on his mouth. He took it without complaint, but I..I felt guilty afterwards.

I came to the conclusion that, if furthering my education in riding dressage means using the reins as a weapon, well, then, I’m not going to. If dressage has become nothing more than an overly expensive fashion show, I am out of here. 

I will still ride to the ancient precepts of dressage: harmony with the horse. WILLING obedience on the horse’s part, me doing MY job of carrying myself and working WITH him, not against him. Most especially, I won’t FORCE him to do something that might Look Good but isn’t in his best interest.

The impossible half halt

    In the dressage (and English) riding world, there is this invisible, obnoxious thing called the 'half halt'.

   It's been described in many different ways: it is akin to pushing in the clutch to prepare your transmission to change gears. A way of preparing the horse for a change in gait. A means of telling your horse to collect himself, balance himself, calm down or  speed up.
I read the articles written by professional riders, riders who KNOW how to ride, and they toss the term off as if it was something EVERY one uses-except me. 

  I haven't a freaking clue how to do one.

  Oh, it's not through lack of research and personal training. I've read the books, the magazine articles, talked to the trainers, the pros, even people who claim they can see when a rider does a half halt. I've read articles by people who claim they half halt all the time, every single time they do something as simple as change rein. 


  Every one of the sources knows how to do a half halt...and their descriptions are all DIFFERENT.
  Every single one.

 
  "Squeeze with your calves to stop the hindquarters." "Set your hands without pulling on the reins."" Don't use your hands".  "Push with your seat bones and squeeze the reins three times". "Stop following him with your pelvis." "Stop him and then change your mind."
"Use your core to push the horse up into the bridle".

  Don't start me about 'core'. It's the term du jour. Everything, I'm told, can be solved if you only use your core. Really? I didn't even know I had one until I used a training aid, and now I know I have my "core" "engaged" ALL the time-without any result whatsoever. 


  I have tried. I swear to all the equine gods I have tried.  

 Any 'pushing' I do with it merely scooches me up closer to Raven's withers. He must wonder what in the bloody hell am I doing up there, wiggling and pushing and pulling and squeezing and changing my mind for no reason whatsoever. It shows, too, as he calmly continues on with whatever he was doing in the first place. 

  I've read the Master: Alois Podhajsky. Not once does the word 'half halt' cross his pages.
  "Riding Logic' s W. Museler mentions that a properly made horse is 'taken up by half halts' but that is as far as he goes. "Classical Equitation-Simplified's author takes two and a half pages of very detailed instructions on how to do a half halt and for god's sakes don't use the hands.  This author: moi: doesn't have the brain capacity to be able to do more than a few things at once. And those things are usually "breathe from your diaphragm". "Keep your ear shoulder elbow heel aligned'.  'Engage your core core core core core core'. Damn it that's six things all at once. Now I have to add more?

  I give up. From now on, I refuse to do a half halt, or attempt one. Because I am beginning to realize that, with a million different ways of doing one, it means there IS no such thing as a
half halt. 

  I take a bit of comfort, though, again from the Master, Podhajsky, who said in utter dejection: "I think I better give up riding altogether. I am never going to learn it!"

The OMG moment

     Most of my life was spent thirsting after horses, not actually riding them. 

   As a city kid with few opportunities to ride, I learned to ride  by the following method:

1. Find a western saddled horse whose owner is sufficiently stupid enough to let a green kid get on it.
2. Climb on.
3. Hang on
4. Get off.  

   Even when I finally was able to own a horse, I didn't ride Jordan all that much. He was beautifully trained and I kept him home, where I had no place to ride for the vast majority of the year, due to rain, rain, and last but not least, rain. That's where I learned that a covered arena is one of the finest things a rider can have. Not having one meant that one had perhaps a few weekends in the summer to ride...but with gardens, jobs, a household to keep and a lazy, high maintenance husband (not my current one) it doesn't leave much time for riding.

  I have spent an enormous amount of time afoot, learning to handle, massage, breed, teach (as opposed to train) horses, but it wasn't until 2011 that I began to seriously want to learn to ride. This was after my divorce, after my remarriage to a normal man, after I'd been laid off for the last time, after I lost hope of ever finding a decent paying job again,  and finally accepting the fact and begin enjoying retirement.

   Thus I began leasing horses, which in four cases was a expensive exercise in masochism. My "owners' (those who owned the horse) were whack jobs, shysters, or outright psychopaths. I had given up on leasing a horse after two years of pain and frustration when out of the blue, Sue offered me the use of Raven. For free. It works out beautifully for both of us: she works full time, I can do things during the time she's working, (i.e. have the farrier out or the vet check), sort of be her Girl Friday. (doesn't that date me. Now it's Personal Assistant. Whatever). I started blogging about it, too. I was truly lucky, but Sue took her time...a VERY long time...before she allowed me to ride Raven without her being present. I promised her I would not ride him without her permission.
One woman at the barn said, 'why don't you ride Raven?" I said, "Sue doesn't want me to ride him without her being here." "I won't tell. She'll never know." "True...but I will." 

I could have snuck in a ride when she was at work, but when I give my word, I KEEP it.

  When I decided I wanted to REALLY learn to ride, I realized that the best way to acquire the necessary balance and self confidence so vital to properly learning to ride could only be done by riding bareback.

   When you're ten years old, rubber boned, and convinced that you will never die, you learn to ride by osmosis.
  When you're in your late fifties, are brittle boned and all too uncomfortably aware that there are things worse than death: paralysis from the neck down, for instance; you learn to ride by conscious effort and a great deal of trepidation. And a helmet.

   Thus I embarked on learning to ride by going back to basics: bareback. 

   I don't ride every day. Perhaps I would have come to this moment sooner had I done so, but there again, I have a Life. It is full to bursting with things that have nothing to do with horses. It means I ride maybe two times a week. 
  Thus the OMG moment I had a month ago took..oh, four years.

   But it was worth the wait. 

   Last month I was riding Raven alone in the arena.  (I was given free rein ((pun fully intended))to ride whenever I chose several years ago.)  I felt comfortable. I asked, inadvertantly, for collection..and GOT it. It was an incredible feeling.

  I've held off writing this till now. First, Life got in the way, but also, I wanted to BE SURE.

  Within a week of that collection ride, I was riding..again, alone, bareback..and felt the connectivity I'd only felt a few fleeting times. This time, though, it lasted the entire ride. I was 'plugged in' to Raven. Our spines were connected. I felt comfortable, balanced, at home. I felt SAFE. I was relaxed and assured. I realized I had achieved something, very quietly, very softly...I had learned balance. I was one with Raven. He proved that to me within moments by shying suddenly and I rode it out..as I usually have...without a problem. I waggled my lower legs. I was as secure on his back as if I were locked on. There was two of me..the bottom half was horse and the upper half was human.

  That was thrilling, but I've learned to not expect too much. However, it has remained. I went a week without riding, then me, Sue, Gretchen, her daughter JJ, and another woman who was riding her QH..were all in the arena.  Everyone was swapping horses. Raven is the only warmblood and JJ had stars in  her eyes after riding him. "He's Fun. He's like a rock star" she oozed.

I know the feeling...warmbloods will do that to you. 

I got aboard first and he was HYPED...there was so much energy going on in the arena and he fed off it like a sponge. Really, if there'd been no one else, I wouldn't have risked it. He as that much horse. But perhaps that was perfect, because without warning, we were trotting. I was relaxed and happy. Comfortable, balanced, steering without hanging onto the reins. 
 I was sitting his big booming trot bareback. Sue was on Gretchen's mare and her face said it all: LOOK AT  YOU!!!! oh my gosh! 
Oh my god, I thought, that was so easy. It was my eureka moment, but I'll type OMG because..well, it's 2016. Nobody has any idea what 'eureka' means anymore save us oldsters.
  
   A week later, she insisted I ride in her saddle. We are going to trot, she said, and I was ready to try, after my first two successes. But Raven can be lazy. He's got a long back and consequently is always on the forehand unless he's been suitably warmed up, as he had been by Sue. This time he was more than warm, he was hot as a pistol and ready to rock. I asked for a trot and began posting his trot like I'd been doing it all my life. Up down up down and I was even on the correct diagonal. It was easy. It was HIM doing the bounce, tossing my butt out of the saddle just enough. I have to keep my hands low, now I know, but I wasn't hanging onto his face. I was balanced and comfortable.

  Today summed it up. Sue is on vacation and I have Raven to myself. I was in the arena when Missy came in with her grey Saddlebred/Arab cross, Jester. And the barnlord came in. Was she going to give Missy a lesson? Because if that's the case, I will evacuate. I don't mind leaving if someone is paying for a lesson. But, no. She's just there to watch us ride.

 Now that I know what being balanced and in harmony with him feels like,  I had felt something amiss with Raven's walk, so I asked the barnlord to spot me. Is he off on his right fore? She demanded I trot. So ...I trotted. Sitting his trot bareback, I went down the arena, again...comfortable and balanced. I don't think the barnlord knew that I have only recently been able to sit the trot. She had me go round and then said, no, he's okay. 

  Like it was an everyday thing for me, to sit the trot bareback. Like it was an every day thing.

   IT IS STICKING. I am on my way! I can truly say for the first time that I am learning to ride, and I can credit riding bareback for it all. I have learned balance, harmony, and most of all, self confidence. It can be a long slow trial for older folks...I am 61 now, soon to be 62, but we CAN learn to ride. It just takes time and the right horse. And the willingness to accept that starting at the beginning is usually the best way, especially if you go bareback.

   I CAN RIDE!!!

My best teacher is the one underneath me

    The saying is that one doesn’t really gain mastery of a skill until she’s done it 10,000 times.

    It may be so. What it is saying is that one must practice, practice, and practice. I know this works. There are skills I learned in the military that I practiced so often that they did become automatic. For instance, I can probably still strip down-and re-assemble-an M-16 with my eyes closed, even so many years after retiring from the military.

   I now know, too, that as one ages, that ability to gain and keep a skill, such as riding, seems to take longer.

   Riding, for instance.

   I got back into horses in early 2011. I had never been good at riding before, as I’d not been a regular rider as a kid. Nor had I lived in an area where there were horses, or when I did, I couldn’t afford lessons, or, while in the military, didn’t have the time.

   The children who are blessed with riding lessons in their early days are truly lucky. Most of the horsemen I know are like me: they had lives that didn’t include horses up until their children left home and they had enough time and money to indulge in their passion.

   I owned Jordan for the last five years of his life, and rode bareback, but I was still working and didn’t have an arena in which to ride.

  So. I’ve been riding, mostly bareback, since 2011. I’ve had a few lessons, picked up several good books, but still, I’ve relied mostly on just getting comfortable on a barebacked horse.

  At times I’ve grow discouraged. I will never get this, I would think. I certainly don’t have ten thousand hours atop a horse, even at this point. I’m old enough, though, to know that, starting so very late in life, I will NEVER be the rider I see all around me. If I can be a little bit better than I used to be, that is good enough for me.

I didn’t put a deadline on my desire to be a better rider. I decided, I won’t push it. I will relax and just enjoy the feel of a good horse underneath me.

   It was with a sense of astonishment, and I should say, pride, when I made a breakthrough last month. I have found my core and can engage it. Why that makes a difference, or whether it does, I don’t know. I don’t really think it matters, despite the fact that it seems to be the cause de jour lately.

   I was riding Raven, bareback. We were alone. I have been practicing turning him and moving him without reins. He’s so very patient and willing for me. He’s a good horse.

   I-and I hate to use the word suddenly as often as I’m going to in this post- but I suddenly felt as if I was truly plugged into his spine. I’ve had brief glimpses of this feeling, but this time it wasn’t ephemeral, here and gone like mist in the wind. No, this time, that feeling of my spine being connected to his in one fluid, crystalline piece was here. I was balanced. I was IN the horse, not on him. I was amazed. I lifted both my legs off his sides and wagged them back and forth and felt as solid on his back as if I were truly plugged into him. He spooked at something, went sideways, and I hardly moved. I even laughed.  It was a lovely feeling.

   Three days later I got back on…and felt it again. And the next time. And the next.

I am balanced. I am comfortable on his back. This feeling, it’s here to stay. I have finally learned to sit on a horse.

   That was more than enough for me. I felt proud. My patience and Raven’s teaching had finally been translated into muscle memory. My confidence has climbed several notches.

   I wasn’t done with breakthroughs.

   Two days ago, I led Raven into the arena. I hadn’t planned on riding. It was raining very hard, the wind was blowing into the arena, and all the horses have been confined to quarters, because our monsoon has arrived and the paddocks are fetlock deep in water.

   Raven is a horse who wants and needs work every day, and I knew he was very fresh. I thought it’d be safer to just lunge him.

   Raven, though, had other plans.

   He dislikes ‘dope on a rope’. Sue can free lunge him, but I am not that adept at it, so I tacked him up with a lunge line and asked him to ‘walk on.”

   He turned and faced me.

   No.

    It wasn’t arrogance, or stubbornness, or an obstinate refusal. It was just a polite no.

    “Come on, Raven, walk on.”

     His warm brown eyes bored into mine.

     No. Get on.   

    “Really, Raven? Don’t you want to work?”

     Get on. I have something to teach you.

   Okaaaaaaaaaaay. So I untacked him, left him free in the arena while I ran for my bridle and helmet. When I returned I could see he’d rolled, which I had hoped he’d do. It’s good for their spine, and I suspect he’s not had a good roll in three days.

   I bridled him and mounted. The wind was howling louder than the rain, but I trusted him to be calm as always.

  I settled myself. I always give him a carrot per side, reward for standing until I’m ready to move off. Seat bones? Got ‘em. Core? cough cough there you are. Arms, click click cuffed to my ribs. Shoulders back, head up. Breathing? Nope, I still to this day can’t remember to breathe when I ride. Someday I’ll pass out and fall off.

    We walked off, sans reins. I like to let him drop his head, stretch his topline, and just generally walk the kinks out before I touch a rein.

   I’ve been practicing my hands. I imagine my upper arms to be handcuffed to my ribs. I pretend I am holding a baby chick in each hand. Now I can feel Raven’s mouthing the bit. That’s a new one, too.

   Once we were both settled and ready to ‘’’work”” I picked up the reins. I cheated by looking at where I try to keep my thumbs on my laced reins. (I love laced reins, more for their looks than anything else, but having a definite spot for my thumbs helps me a LOT). C’mere, chicks, hop into my hands, we’re going for a ride.

   After several rounds of the arena, I thought, what happens if I just gently squeeze those chicks. Not even to hurt them, just to see what happens.  

   I have to explain a failing of mine. I don’t take verbal instructions very well. It’s not obstinacy, or arrogance. I just get easily confused, especially if the instructions are multi-faceted, as riding almost always is. It’s hard for me to put two legs, two arms, two hands, all doing different things at the same time. Let’s not forget that I must also think of seat bones and weight shifts and which side is out and which in.

   Thus, when taking instruction or lessons, I’ve listened and reacted backwards. I would tell my teacher, I want to learn to do a half halt. (a subject always one of contention. Every rider I’ve ever met does a half halt differently and can’t tell you how. They just Do it.) So my instructor would say, do this, do that, do the other thing…THERE! Did you feel it?

   Well, no. I’ll say “yes” but I know I didn’t do it. I think, I’ll memorize what she just said, and I’ll repeat it the steps in order, and by reverse engineering, I should get the same result.

   But it doesn’t ever work right. I’ll do it the same way and if I’m alone, Raven continues on serenely as if I never asked a thing. If I’m being taught, I eventually get a GOOD, you did it! But I am lying to her.

   It’s a case of Raven figuring out what I want, due to the instructor’s voice, and he does it. Hey, don’t laugh. This is a horse in front of whom we must spell ‘c-a-n-t-e-r’  because he loves it and will at the mere breath of the word. One of these days he’ll figure it out. He already knows “C”. The rest will come, sooner than later.

  I think Raven just responds because he hears me wishing he would do it. We both know I didn’t make him do it, I didn’t do the steps right or at all. He’s just a kind, loving teacher.  

   Which is another reason I prefer riding bareback, and alone. I can fumble along, take things at my own pace. If I accomplish nothing but enjoy the ride, and he’s happy, I’m good.

    But this time…this time I was listening to him. I squeezed the reins, gently…and felt SOMETHING. Something Different. Something…collected.  

   What do you feel?

   “Oh my god, Raven, what did you just do? Can we do that again?”

   Can YOU?

  

   It wasn’t until late that night, in bed, that I, rehearsing what I’d felt, finally understood a phrase I’ve heard so often but have never experienced. 

 I dropped the reins, we did another round of the arena, then I picked them up and asked the same way.

   I felt Raven “come up underneath me”. His ears were pricked forward, his neck arched so beautifully and for the first time in my life, I knew I was riding a collected horse.

   I finally know the best teacher I will ever have is the one underneath me.

   I might finally be on my way to learning how to ride.