Pause for Reflection

[dancinghorse]

I don't do this all that often, so bear with me.  It's about riding, then about writing, and mostly about both.  Sort of.

I've been on book break long enough now that I'm within days of going off it and onto the next book blitz, which means I've got all these thoughts piling up and trying to get coherent.  Some are related to all the horse stuff last week--clinics always get me thinking about how riding really works--and some have to do with the writer discussions around my flist.  I love those, and sometimes participate, but I don't seem to get around to getting them started here because, well, we'll get into that.

This has a lot to do with the way my mind works.

My lessons this morning were more basics on Capria--since Pook was being a total poophead and one Killer Projecting Empath, namely Camilla, was all I could cope with today.  They were all in a Mood.  Camilla was Anxious and Fussy and Grinding Her Teeth.  I didn't sit on her because she was too jangly.  I dressed her up and played with her instead, and worked on Forward and generally established the next few weeks' routine: Go get keed, saddle keed, go get Camilla, saddle Camilla, hand off keed to Joni, work with Camilla.  I want this to become such a commonplace that it's absolutely no big deal.  Then we'll be able to do the riding thang.

And that feels right.  Pook is in the first rush of the pre-spring hormones--he'll get his quality time tomorrow, including a ride.

Amid the lessons and rides, we talked about the clinic and my lessons and riding in general.  I've known for a long time that the kind of dressage I do is not what passes for "dressage" in most of the world.  You might call it "High Church Dressage," in that it's rare, obscure, and practiced in the High Church--Vienna, of course.  The thing is, many riders will tell you that's the kind of dressage they do--and they rattle off the words and claim to understand the concepts and then you see them on the horse and, well, nope.  Joni cited an article she just read in which the author quoted an Old Dead Guy (ODG)...but the ODG never said what the author claims he says.  And the concepts the author is espousing,  with illustrations, have nothing to do with what the ODG meant.  The author has skipped all the chapters on the minutiae of aids and seat and leaped straight to the manipulation of the head by means of the reins.

And this is what happens over and over.  US riders in particular are taught to push with the legs and pull with the hands, and "through in the back" means "I'm holding the horse's nose on the vertical with my hands."  There is nothing happening between the hands and the knees--the rider is at best aware that one does something with the upper torso, but when pointed to the abdominals, pelvis, and thighs where the real seat is, goes abruptly deaf and blind.  And starts kicking and pulling and calling it "throughness" and "engagement" and "collection."

But it's not.

The trouble with the real thing is, it takes years to learn even if you're an equestrian genius.   And the horse can't just do it if the rider isn't there to help.  The  rider thinks he's helping by kicking and pulling, but he's blocking the horse--doing the exact opposite of what he thinks he's doing.  I know about this because I learned that way, and changing it is taking major work.  Capria with kick-pull riding is a stiff, hollow, llama-necked horse with her accelerator stuck permanently to the floor.  Pooka doesn't even stay in the building.

However, a horse trained the other way, to a rider trained my way, rather than being easy and simple and restful, is not a pleasure to ride.  There's nothing to sit on.  The back isn't there.  The hind end is disconnected from the front.  He can't respond to the aids because he has no muscles to respond with.  Everything is happening in the neck and head--and those have a weird, dead feel to them, because there's no engine to drive them.  When I ride such a horse, I spend my time trying to get the hindquarters underneath and the back up, but ignore the head.  Which leads the horse's owner to yell,  "Make him round!"  Meaning, pull his head up and in and hold it there.  Which I can't do because the head takes its position from what the rest of the horse is doing--and pulling it into a headset doesn't do anything to create the feeling of roundness, softness, and power that comes only from the back and hindquarters.

And that's slow.  I'd say the majority of riders who think they want to ride this way give up sooner or later  (usually sooner) and go to the easier, quicker way because they want to show, they want concrete rewards that they can get by riding the crank-and-jam way like everyone else (consider that you're winning awards for being the best at doing it wrong), and the thought of spending years learning basics just does not appeal.

Sticking with it is a bitch.  My problem is, Lipizzans are the original High Church horse.  You can ride a Lipp the usual way, but the Lipp does poorly, does not show very well, and gets a rep for being "stubborn" or "slow" or  "not talented."  Lipps are genetically engineered to be ridden in a particular way, are hardwired for it, and just don't respond to anything else. 

But oy, the pain to the ego.  I came to this thinking I was hot shit--third level, doing mediums and collected work,  starting half pass with my own home-trained horse, had ridden beyond Grand Prix with previous trainers, wasn't I something.  Joni took my reins away, bumped me down to baby lessons, and made me feel about a millimeter high.  Then she took me apart and, over the years, has slowly put me back together again--with the help of a succession of Lipizzans, of whom Pook is probably the most demanding, but Capria is no slouch, either.

Joni tells a story of how when she went to Vienna to learn to ride, Bereiter Steinriegler of the Spanish Riding School was the instructor.  The first day, he was teaching another student while she warmed up next door--and she was determined to impress him.  She "put the horse on the bit," she did tricks, she was proud of herself.  In the middle of her warmup, Steinriegler left his lesson and came over to her and laid his hand on her rein.  He said very quietly, "Stop that."  That was all.  Then he went back to his other student.

And she spent months on the longeline, learning why she had totally failed to impress the master.

kladruber1  said to me, "You aren't a rider until you can ride a Lipizzan."  I think she's right.  Because they won't accept anything other than High Church, they force you to ride them their way--which is the slow, exacting, no-shortcuts way. 

The good part is, when you do get it, the feeling is absolutely amazing.  It's magic.  You just sit there and ride the wave, and it's all pure power and balance and beauty.  And the horse is totally with you, from nose to tail.

But try to explain this to a rider who has been winning ribbons at the mid to upper levels, getting good scores, feeling superior because you're still dinking around in walk and trot.  You can't demonstrate that it's not dinking, because this rider can't see what you're doing--just sees the nose off the vertical and the lack of fancy tricks and draws conclusions based on a lot of missed parameters.  One of my ambitions to have horses who can do the tricks correctly--then we'll still dink,  but we'll be able to pull the fancy stuff out as needed.  Capria is on the brink of that, if I can get my damned hands to cooperate and start paying real attention to where her shoulders are (we worked on that today).  And Pook will have it soon.  With big shiny bells on.  He can already do an awfully impressive passage that isn't really correct but is more so than what you see in Olympic tests--it's his natural gait.  Blows people's minds when he does it.

Meanwhile however, when I'm riding right, it just looks like dinking.

Which, believe it or not, does segue into Why I Don't Discuss Writing Much Here.  I enjoy the discussions elsewhere.  The problem is, I don't write analytically--I don't spend a lot of time thinking about how I do it.  When I first started teaching it, I had to spend quite a bit of time back-filling and figuring out what I did, then trying to explain how.  I write intuitively, and if I get too hung up on details, the writing gets mechanical and lifeless.  It has to feel right, first and foremost.  Then I worry about the technical aspects.

And that's how I have to ride.  There are riders who read to Grand Prix, just as there are writers who talk a great talk.  If they aren't feeling it, if they aren't operating from intuition first, they can quote ODG's an nauseam, but they're not riding the ride.  I'm a dressage dyslexic--I can't read about it.  My eyes glaze over.  I have to get on the horse and do it.

I dunno, maybe it's a form of magical thinking.   If  I get too analytical,  I can't ride and I can't create fiction--and if I get too hung up on critical thinking, I'll get too critical to write (or ride) anything.

Or maybe I'm a bear of little brain, and I only have enough brain cells to do one thing at a time.  My riding comes along glacially slowly because I'm a slow learner.  And my writing is this seat-of-the-pants thing that can't work unless I shut my eyes and just do it.  All the glittering literati are a delight to watch, but I don't glitter.  I just sort of mumble around in the grass.

 

Note to self: Ripening/Pooka, Rotting/Rooting/Camilla, Sattva (and Sherry Ackerman)

Comments

[dancinghorse.livejournal.com]

Yep... I do think there is definitely a specific way these horses want to be ridden. And they'll tell you once you finally get it. ;)

I'll drink to that!

There's always someone who gets all bent of shape about this, says it doesn't exist, and starts flaming if people keep on saying it does. But, you know, it does.

[lynnesite.livejournal.com]

I identify a lot with what you've written about the writing/riding. My photography is the same way, if I get too technical while shooting the spark is gone, though unlike you I can read about it a little bit. People who like my work most often assume I've gone to photography school or at least taken courses.

Twix had better find us a Joni. I'm getting nervous already. Hellooooo Universe/Mother Ship?! I would like a nearby-Joni now so that I can practice on Q--unlike you, I am crappy at slicing into wee learnable pieces without an instructor's help. Twix is amusedly/tolerantly cooperating in our various groundwork games, looking like a cute hunter pony at 9 months.

Dental time here too--ready to get jealous? The regional super-dentist owes me super-whammy jobs on my two adults *twice* this year, in exchange for photos of mine he's got for presentations. Twix needs it too though, according to my exploring hands today. Gotta call and schedule.

[raithen.livejournal.com]

I hear you on needing to find a local "joni." I have found my Joni, but she lives 9 hours away. *sigh* And we too have a 9 10 (!!) month old filly, and I have 3 years to get MY riding organized so that she doesn't suffer what her mother and aunt have from poor riding and training (not all, but partly, mine). She is a bit pacy as Tennessee WAlkers go, but I can work with that if *I* am riding correctly. ANd she is special enough to deserve every chance.

And thanks for reminding me that I need to call the dentist for Miss JJ!