Ingrid Schatz, who has danced with me for the past 15 years, told me of a recent study showing that movement improvisation has been shown to be the greatest antidote to dementia! Nearly four years ago I lost my mother to Alzheimer’s disease, after eight years of losing her piece by piece in excruciating increments. I wonder what might have been different had I engaged her in some kind of movement play. Improvising turns on the brain’s circuitry, creating new pathways and connections. Improvising, we don’t now where we are going, we are traveling through time and space without a map, following the wild and ragged heart of the body. Horse Dancing at its best, really. The continual, present-centered, unfolding bodily conversation with yourself, a horse, a lover. A way to get unstuck from the rote, the habitual, the usual. Try this: take five minutes sometime today and lie down in a quiet spot and just let your body move in any way that it wants. Little, big, fast, slow – doesn’t matter. No editor, no instructor, no judge. Listen to the body. Let it speak.
Author Archives: Paula Josa-Jones
The Kind Horse
Some horses in my life have a generosity of spirit that makes them particularly precious to me. My Andalusian stallion Capprichio is one. The Mustang stallion Nelson is another. The glorious Friesian, Sanne, is another. These horses seem to have time to just be, to stand with you, to ask nothing. Just share breath and space. I think it has to do with a certain confidence that they share. Other horses can nudge and fidget – want to know what is next or why are you there. I find myself drawn to these three because there is a sense of kindness and wholeness about them. Moments spent with them – grazing, standing, stroking, even training – are healing, calming, deeply refreshing. Horse peace.
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Slow
I gave myself permission to take my time at the barn today. I recommend it. Maybe you brush your horse longer than necessary, more slowly, savoring the feel of the brush strokes, the gleam of the coat, the movement of your arm over the curves of the horse’s body. Maybe you just stand together and breathe – looking at the summer green, the air moving the trees, hearing the birds, the cicada, the chewing of the horse in the next stall. Do nothing. Be nothing. Get porous, just molecules dancing with other molecules.
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Horse as Litmus
Sometimes the horses elicit people’s darker side, the under-layers of their fears, their need for control, their rage, their sorrow. When this happens, it is like being kicked by a horse, it feels sudden, inexplicable, without reason. Horses always show us the need for balance, and the ways we have fallen out of harmony. You don’t have to ride to find this out. Walk by a paddock, and they will show you your emotions like a funhouse mirror. Stand with them and they will show you your heart, beat by beat.