The horses are where I practice. They are my yoga, my sitting.
I love them for their clarity, their honesty, their generosity. I discover – again and again – what is elemental and essential through the horses. It is something I want to share.
I wonder though, if because my blog is called Horse Dancing, people who don’t know or care about horses dismiss it automatically. Or does horse yoga resonate in a wider way?
Tell me what you think? What would you like to see more of?
One last word about timing and feeling when to move.
I am told by Pam White that John Cage would walk in a circle upon arriving at his studio until he felt he had actually arrived. He was also the person who said, “I am trying to be unfamiliar with what I am doing.”
My take away from all of this is that feeling when to move takes tremendous presence and leads to the unexpected.
How are you practicing being unfamiliar with what you are doing?
Many of your responded to yesterday’s post about waiting and readiness. Here are some more thoughts. And some horse wisdom.
I haven’t seen Nelson for a couple weeks because of a bad cold. Thursday was uncommonly warm – balmy even – for November in New York, so we were relaxed together, basking. I could feel that he was happy to see me.
He did not want me to approach him with a rope or halter, but there was something different about his spook today. It felt like he was having me on, as if he were saying, “Look! Do you remember what a big stallion I really am? Do you remember this?” as he arched his neck and showed me all that power. But there was something of the showman, a performance in it. He wasn’t really scared, just playing, extending the game and our time together.
A couple months ago, when Nelson would earnestly spook, I discovered an attunement. I intentionally synced my steps with him. In a quiet, settled way, I moved with him, step for step. Almost immediately, he joined the dance, and within moments we could stop, move, and turn together. I wasn’t asking for anything, or pushing him. Just saying, let’s do this instead. That dance dissolved the fear.
The other part of this story is that when I want to put the hater on Nelson, I don’t go directly there. Each step has its own timing, its own right moment: pick up the rope, approach him, let him touch it, touch him with it, put the rope over his back, move to his “dark side” and then finally, put the halter on. Until he can stand calm and quiet, I keep breaking things down, asking a smaller question, giving him time to answer. I am not in a hurry.
That is the part about waiting for the right moment. The moment that has a “yes” or a “now.” That requires asking the question and then waiting to feel the response. Sometimes it is instantaneous. Other times, there is a longer wait. Nelson has taught me this more clearly than anyone. So have my daughters.
Are you listening?
Today my friends Karen and Allie are getting married at 11. It got me to thinking about timing. Actually, for the past few days, I have heard myself say to friends, “It’s all about timing.” The way things come together vibrationally – a sudden elegant or disastrous confluence.
Timing has to do with feeling when to move and when to wait. I notice that sometimes waiting becomes stalling – tinged with fear and trepidation.
What does it mean to be ready, really? What is the role of decision and intuition?
Sometimes when I think of seizing the moment, figuring out which moment becomes a distraction – a way not to move but to stay put creatively. My whole life, though, has been defined by leaps of faith (more about this in The Journal).
I can get caught up in waiting when I am about to put something new out in public space. I have been ripening FRESH! for awhile now. I want to make sure that it is ready – that I am saying what I really want to say.
Watch for it.
When are you ready? And what are you waiting for?
