I checked the weather online yesterday because I heard that there was snow coming.  I was concerned because I am having a minor procedure in the hospital tomorrow morning.  Our corner of Connecticut was obscured by lurid graphics, so it was impossible to tell if we are in the 6-12 zone or the 12-24 zone.

I think that I am going to take a page from my Buddhist friend here with the jaunty cap of snow.  Just sit and breathe and let it all happen around me with equanimity.  That is happening more easily for me since I got back from Georgia and my mind and body expanding time with Mark Rashid.

Yesterday, I was riding Capprichio, my lovely black Andalusian stallion.  He has a tendency to yaw on the bits, and pull and generally use his big neck to brace.  He also has a history of suspensory ligament injuries and is twenty one years old, so it is important that I ride him as well as possible, and help him to not hollow his neck and brace his jaw.  We started off in the usual way – a minor pulling contest, and I thought why not try the softening strategy that I learned from Mark.  The conversation went a little like this:

“How about this?” as I halted and asked him with a very gentle contact (.5) to stay soft in the bridle.

“No, I don’t think so.”  He stuck his head straight out and set his jaw.

“Well, let’s try this instead.”  I softly tipped his nose to the side, and when he gave, softened my hands toward the bridle without giving away the reins.  I looked for that warm water flowing toward his mouth that I felt with Mark.

“That’s not bad.”  He softened his neck and then I felt him shift back so that his back came up.

“Beautiful.  Let’s try that again.”  We walked off together, then halted, shifted back and walked forward again.

“Hey,  that’s nice.”  He stayed soft in the bridle and moved forward in a smooth chewy walk.

“Thank you,”  I said.  ” I like this much better.”

“Good job.  I think you might be getting it,” he replied.

Since my clinic with Mark Rashid, I have been feeling that I have more of myself available.  Something about softening my connections with my horses and breathing more has opened my senses out.  It began with my eyes.  During the clinic, he had me trot – a big, lusty working trot from one point to another in the big paddock.  I had to focus on a destination and Go There!  Now!  He wasn’t fooling around.

In the course of doing that, I noticed something interesting.  My peripheral vision opened out and I started to see all the way to the edges of things – not just the spot I was headed,  but all around.  Then I noticed that my other senses were opening too:  I was hearing more, listening out to the far corners of sounds, feeling more inclusively, smelling and tasting with more sensitivity.

That came home with me.  I am feeling more ease, more pleasure, more vitality.  And that aliveness is seeping into my riding and my writing – I feel more improvisational and curious about how changing one thing opens new possibilities.  I am riding on feel, not habit.  Working on my book, I am writing with more abandon.

Can you be peripheral in all of your senses?