As I was driving home from the
barn in a downpour Friday night, I remembered that I love the rain. It is an
easy thing to forget, since it’s cold and wet, and sunshine is much more
conducive to happy jumping around feelings. I spent close to three months ensconced
in San Francisco
last summer, and per Mark Twain, it was the coldest winter I’ve ever
experienced. I disliked my job, my living situation (I was basically crashing
on a friend’s couch), and the city was so expensive I could barely afford to
buy food let alone buy a horse. So it didn’t help that it rained All. The.
Time. I never wanted to see water again.
Rain forces introversion and
meditation. It drowns out everything in the past, and the future, and
compresses the world to the small sphere in which you are standing. In this universe,
every problem, every flaw, is magnified. But so too is the potential for
inspiration.
My Awesome Rider Friend and I
have a running argument about whether or not dressage is boring. It came to a
head when we were watching Rolex and I was obnoxiously quoting various books
I’ve been reading while she rolled her eyes. We were watching coverage of the
cross-country portion of the event, and I wanted to go back and watch the
dressage some more.
“Why do you like dressage so much?”
“Because I…!” I answered
vehemently.
Truth be told, I’m not quite
sure. As I’ve been taking lessons from my trainer and riding every day, I discovered
that I used to communicate by crude stick figures drawn with a stick in the
sand, and now there is this whole world called writing, and I’m just learning
the alphabet. But why do I want to learn the language of dressage in particular?
Why not jumping? Why not barrel racing? I intend to do eventing, so jumping
will come (no word yet on barrel racing).
I can give all the stereotypical
answers. Dressage is not just about speed; it’s a dance. It is precise. It is a
foundation upon which all else can grow. More than that, though, dressage is
about the here and now. In competitive jumping, you look to the next obstacle
before you are done with the current one. Dressage is about this line, this curve, this second, this
exhalation, this instant. It is the
cessation of striving and the building of potential.
I equate it with Bikram Yoga.
Bikram is a practice of yoga created by the Indian Bikram Choudhoury (for a
great blog on Bikram, read Keep It Locking). It is a series of 26 postures done
over an hour and a half in a room heated to 105 degrees F. The postures are
accompanied by a set dialogue developed by Bikram and his senior students. Each
posture works different groups of muscles, simultaneously building strength and
flexibility. People work for decades to achieve the full expression of each
movement. If you’re doing the class right, by the end you’re so exhausted all
you can do is lie flat on your back in the final savasana (complete relaxation, or Corpse Pose). It is very
challenging and sometimes confusing. You can reach a plateau that stretches
(pun intended) for months. The heat is oppressive, and if you panic your vision
will go spotty. But that is the point. Maximum effort with minimum drama.
Breath in and out calmly through your nose. Relax everything except for those
muscles you are actively using. Think of nothing but the practice. Grunting,
straining, wishing it was over- distractions only. By the end, you will be so
deeply calm that you can use any one of your muscles to its maximum ability
with no extraneous energy. Thus, Bikram is called moving meditation.
When I think of dressage, I think
of Bikram Yoga, and the Friday afternoon in the indoor arena, just me and my
horse dancing, our breath comingling in the quiet dusty air, while all outside
it is pouring rain.
