Connections

It is still not spring. But it is almost here. I can feel it coming, a whisper, a humming, a drumming that will explode as soon as it stops this damn snowing.

My favorite songs address that same approaching intent. They meander, spiraling notes and flinging points, free and directionless until one seemingly randomly emphasized beat is followed a little while later by another, and then another, and it has created a pattern, and then the notes fall down, down, and up into the pattern, and the song is suddenly deliberate, and growing.

Stand, Blues Traveler

Listen to 2:05 to 4:30.

  

Little Lion Man, Mumford and Sons

Listen to 2:22 to 3:33.

Surya and I are at a similar tipping point in our dressage.

Show Number 4 went quite well. Surya was tense and more reactive than normal, but she was way more relaxed than the constant spooking of the last three shows. We got a 63% in the Starter Horse USDF Test B (and 3^rd in the class), and a 36%, which translates to 64%, in the Open Division USEF Beginner Novice Test A (and also 3^rd in that class). We jumped a clear round at starter height, and got just one rail at the very end of the Beginner Novice round as a result of me misjudging a distance and asking her to wait when we should’ve jumped long.

I was a little disappointed in our dressage scores, but unsurprised at the results. It seems, even doing a new test involving cantering, we can consistently score in the 60s. At home however, by ourselves, we are achieving a beginning. Surya is lifting her back and the base of her neck, going through to the bridle, and starting to really engage her hind end. The feeling is unique. There is a tipping point just before we get there. She tries to go faster, she tries to ignore my leg and go slower, she bears down on the bridle, she lifts her head, she tilts her head, she swings her haunches out… and then she lifts her back and I can direct with the slightest of pressure. It is perfection. We breathe in unison. Surya still gets tired quickly – 15 minutes without getting overbent is about her max – but we are consistently achieving connected self-carriage.

Unfortunately, I couldn’t get that “schwung” going at the show. Because she wasn’t connected into the bridle, I rode defensively. My hands were exaggeratedly wide to maintain a connection with her mouth, my legs added speed and threw her onto the forehand instead of adding impulsion, and she fought every transition. It wasn’t terrible. We didn’t struggle as much as the last show. But we didn’t tip over the edge into connectedness. It’s okay. We just need more practice at showing.

Wednesday night no one was at the barn. The setting sun glowed red through the beige windows at the top of the indoor arena. Several pigeons have taken up residence in the rafters over the course of the winter, and occasionally a light grey feather would drift down through the soft lighting. Or sometimes poop.

I started the ride with walk-halt transitions, and then proceeded to sitting trot. Once my legs were shaking with exhaustion (about 10 minutes later) and Surya was lightly mouthing the bit (she likes sitting trot… what? Maybe because I don’t make her use her back end and trot with engagement?), we picked up the canter. We have directional and speed control in the canter, but for months we’ve focused on using the canter to improve the trot, or keeping her nose up and shoulders and haunches aligned to jump. This past week, we started asking Surya to lift her back and engage more through to the bridle again. Asking is a very delicate process and she doesn’t always understand what I’m getting at yet. The right lead is easier. If I bend her slightly to the outside so as to get her really straight, and then apply leg while keeping the reins steady, she lifts her back and the base of her neck. That canter is beautiful.

We cantered for 10 minutes faster and slower, and then moved into trot. Surya got right to work, engaging her back and her hindquarters, pulling through to the bridle but not bearing down on the bit. When she started to get tired we walked on a loose rein to cool down.

As Surya meandered as slowly as she could around the arena (she knows when we are done, and sees no need to perpetuate an interest in movement), I could almost see spiderwebs of ideas taking form. I thought about connecting our trot work to the canter, the drilling I’ve been doing at the walk to the trot, and the feeling of her lifting her back to increased engagement until every movement feels as connected and vibrant as one perfect step of trot.

In all the trotting, and cantering, and not driving with my seat, and keeping my legs still, and my body straight, and my hands steady, and her bend correct, and her impulsion sufficient, and the myriad technicalities, we’ve been learning to play scales, notes upon notes, in increasing precision, in increasing complexity. But, now, we have a song to sing. A refrain, to hum in the background, until it becomes chorus and verse.