Category Archives: the dance

the whole, the parts

After I wrote the post on Nelson, talking about the “basic, homogenized body”, I thought about the other side of that coin:  the separate and distinct flavors of the body.  A little like the difference between Western cuisine, which strives for combinations of flavors, and Japan, where there is more of an emphasis on meals consisting of distinct foods, each retaining their own individual taste and appearance.

When I first started to ride, I was overwhelmed by all of the sensory information from my own body and the horse’s body – like trying to listen to about five hundred radio stations at once.  After about fifteen years of sifting and sorting, I can (often, not always) selectively tune into one channel at a time.   It happens quickly – like a momentary check in:  my hips, my legs, his mouth (I feel that in my hands through the reins), each of his legs, my spine, and so on.  This requires a light, quick body-mind, one that doesn’t bear down or get stuck in one place.  No over-thinking, no aggressive fixing. Corrections happen in a flow, awareness is dextrous and global.  That is the goal.

I can feel my lovely trainer, Brandi Rivera, smiling as she reads this.  She has seen me get very stuck, heavy-handed and frustrated.  When that happens, I am usually not tasting or feeling much of anything.  The parts have gotten thick and mushy, like a bad soup. At that moment, I find it helps to tune into the fluid base of the breath, and from there let the mind bloom out to the feast of flavors once again.  It’s the same when dancing – sensing the whole while feeling the relationships and qualities of the parts.

 

 

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The Dance: Nelson’s Tango

Today I was working with Nelson, the Mustang.  My work with him is about helping him to get more comfortable with all the stuff around him, and more able to roll with new information, new challenges, like being able to have his feet trimmed, My relationship with Nelson is more than that, however. Over the months or working with him, I have come to love him, and to approach our dance with reverence and appreciation.  I  learn something new each time I am with him.  For the past few weeks, I have noticed that the texture of my body – the way I feel my cells are aligned and humming  has changed since I first started.  It feels like I have been homogenized – my body is expressing one thing, instead of a million little messages.  That makes things easier for Nelson.  Today he felt nervous, usually a sign that someone else has been in working with him – he was discombobulated and edgy.  I have learned not to react to any of that, just to stay in my basic, homogenized body and wait.  At one point, he started his dance of moving one way and then turning and moving off the other direction – a prelude to running.  Instead of trying to block him, I just blended my steps, so that I was matching him exactly, as if I were trying to learn his dance steps.  I could immediately feel the shift in him – he looked at me as if I had done something very interesting and then walked over to me for a pet.  Another lesson in horse dancing for me.  Thank you Nelson.

Stormy Weather

Into the Vortex by Pam White

The other day I took my horse Amadeo out on a lead line to do some ground work.  We got into the arena, and suddenly he was arching his neck, blowing like a stallion, tail flagging, spooking, little rears.  Sweat poured down my neck.  I wanted to run.  The last time this happened, five years ago, I was walking him at a new farm and he spooked, pivoted and kicked out, catching my thigh full force with his hoof.  I went down.  I had a shoe print, a big lump and a colorful leg for about a year.When that happened,I felt caught in a storm – fearful, helpless.  It felt personal.

Hurricane Irene, on the other hand, catapulted us into an odd kind of stillness.  After putting away and securing  all potential projectiles, including dogs, cats, plants, we fell into obsessive storm watching.  On the television and out the windows.  Trees waving, rain whipping in sheets, images of the sea wild, surging.  On the farm, the horses safe inside, chewing hay, breathing, shuffling in the straw. The Irene storm felt impersonal – something that happened with all of us – a kind of communal event – something to share.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Letting Go

From Tilt Photo by Pam White

Yesterday we took one daughter to college.  Tomorrow daughter #2 goes off to college.   Two weeks ago, I made the decision to sell my gelding Amadeo.  I have come to see, painfully and over a long period of time, that I am not the best dance partner for this horse.  Holding on to him is clinging to an old dream.  Like trying to hold onto my girls as they launch into their new lives. There is something about these kinds of emptying changes that is uncomfortable, violent.  Hurricane Irene steaming up the East coast feels like this – inevitable, unpredictable.  What I can do is bring in the plants and the lawn furniture, gather the cats, make sure that the girls’ laundry is done and that they have what they need. Love them.  Look for a loving home for Deo, with someone who can dance his beautiful dance.  And most of all, hold myself gently through all these passing storms of change.