Teacher: "Any questions?"
Student: "When I do ABC, StumpKicker tosses her head and does XYZ. What should I do?"
Teacher: "Well, like I just got done telling you... When the left foot hits the ground release with your left rein. Then when the right foot hits the ground, you release with your right rein. But your timing has to be right. You need to release exactly when the foot hits the ground. If you are early or late, it will mean the wrong thing to your horse and you'll just be teaching your horse to be worse."
Student: "But that's what I AM doing!"
At this point, the teacher is thinking to himself "No, you're not. If you were, you wouldn't be having this problem. So regardless of what you THINK you're doing, or WISH you're doing, you're actually doing something else."
If the world was a fair and just place, the Universal Soundtrack would be playing Dave Stamey's "Dude String Trail" somewhere in the background:
My point, and most recent epiphany, is that making that next step with my horsemanship is dificult but it isn't complicated.
Really. It's not complicated. When I keep my balance even and in equilibrium with my horse, when I consistently offer the lightest possible good deal before following up with whatever pressure is required to get the job done, when my offer is correctly timed up with my horse's movement, and when I make sure to offer it when the correct foot is leaving the ground, my horse cheerfully and willingly does what I ask. Pretty much every time. Ears foreword.
Simple. But difficult.
What makes it difficult, is that word consistent. I most always get those elements right when we're sitting still or making slow, single movements. Heck I usually get some of them right at a walk. Sometimes I forget or get confused, but usually if I focus intently I can make it happen. Any mistakes I make, I usually have enough time to realize and correct before things turn into a mess. Trotting though? That's another story. That's difficult. There's a lot going on and it's all too easy to start feeling control of the situation slipping out of my hands. Cantering? Really difficult.
Now add in other horses, some cattle, taking slack out of my rope while getting short on the cow without getting rimfired when the cow suddenly decides to make a break in an unexpected direction, and all of a sudden difficult has escalated into freakin' impossible. At this point, my horse is going to do anything except what I want and he's pissed off and recalcitrant about it in the process... and the harder I try, the more grumpy he gets. I mean... what does he expect? I AM giving all the right cues to get the job done. Why isn't it working out how it' s'posed to?
If the world was a fair and just place, the Universal Soundtrack would be playing Dave Stamey's "Dude String Trail" somewhere in the background:
...They show up in skirts 'n sandals
And shorts way up on their thighs
And they thump 'em with their heels
And they jerk on the rains
And them ponies just role their eyes...
My point, and most recent epiphany, is that making that next step with my horsemanship is dificult but it isn't complicated.
Really. It's not complicated. When I keep my balance even and in equilibrium with my horse, when I consistently offer the lightest possible good deal before following up with whatever pressure is required to get the job done, when my offer is correctly timed up with my horse's movement, and when I make sure to offer it when the correct foot is leaving the ground, my horse cheerfully and willingly does what I ask. Pretty much every time. Ears foreword.
Simple. But difficult.
What makes it difficult, is that word consistent. I most always get those elements right when we're sitting still or making slow, single movements. Heck I usually get some of them right at a walk. Sometimes I forget or get confused, but usually if I focus intently I can make it happen. Any mistakes I make, I usually have enough time to realize and correct before things turn into a mess. Trotting though? That's another story. That's difficult. There's a lot going on and it's all too easy to start feeling control of the situation slipping out of my hands. Cantering? Really difficult.
Now add in other horses, some cattle, taking slack out of my rope while getting short on the cow without getting rimfired when the cow suddenly decides to make a break in an unexpected direction, and all of a sudden difficult has escalated into freakin' impossible. At this point, my horse is going to do anything except what I want and he's pissed off and recalcitrant about it in the process... and the harder I try, the more grumpy he gets. I mean... what does he expect? I AM giving all the right cues to get the job done. Why isn't it working out how it' s'posed to?
Oh wait. Maybe what he's receiving is different than what I'm giving.
When I think carefully about it, I AM doing the right things. Just not with the right timing, not coordinated with the right foot and often in the haste and pressure of the situation, not prefaced by that initial good deal before coming in with the "get 'er done" emphasis.
If I were the Governor, my well-intended pardon would be arriving too late to stay the execution.
Just like those students I mentioned above. Y'know, the ones that can't admit to themselves that they're failing at walking and chewing gum at the same time.
The reason that I said this is an epiphany for me and not the sudden yawning of a bottomless chasm of despair is that I can fix this. In fact, I don't even have to be a rocket scientist to fix this. I just need to be diligent and have a study plan.
Let me make an analogy.
I've been trying to improve my roping. I've got the basics down: I can throw an overhand shot, hit what I'm aiming at, re-coil my rope without making a mess. When I'm roping a dummy cow, I'm a shot-making fool. Bet on me and you won't go wrong. However, when I'm on horseback, roping a real cow, things quickly wind up in the proverbial handbasket.
My left hand goes forward and back along with my right as I coil, which translates into me yanking and slacking my poor pony's reins. My left had instinctively clamps on the coils when I throw causing me to choke my shots and miss far too often. When I neck my calf, I am way too slow starting to take my slack, so he runs right through my loop. Then when I get my slack, I'm too slow to make it to the horn and start dallying so I wind up getting my arm jerked by the calf.
Well, I've found that if I take a deep breath and look honestly at what I'm doing, I can identify the various things that I'm actually doing. I can break these actions down and practice them individually until I get good at them. Then I can practice doing one after the other to get automatic about transitioning between them. For example, I practice throwing my loop out, whether I hit anything or not, and then immediately coiling with no wait inbetween. I practice holding my coils in front of me as I coil and not moving my left hand... You get the picture.
The idea is that even though practicing these little bits of things is not the same as reality, I can still improve what happens in reality. Because I've discovered that my real problem is all the time lost just standing around trying to figure out what to do next, while everything is happening at once, or lost to fumbling with basic actions like coiling. If I practice transitions and basic moves until they are smooth, then when things are happening fast, I can spend what precious little time I have on making sure I've timed up the taking of slack with the movement of the calf so he doesn't run through my loop, instead of spending the time trying to remember whether or not it's time to take slack. I can make sure my pony is headed in the right direction so I don't get rimfired as I dally instead of fumbling around trying to remember which way around the horn to wind the wraps of the dally. By using rote practice to take some of these things out of what I have to worry about during the real-time process of roping the calf, I can spend more time on what's really important... and I'm more calm because I'm rushing less, which winds up making me succeed more often.
It's the same deal in the case of my riding. I mean, understanding about good timing and feel is nothing new for me. However, really understanding the difference between the feel I think I'm giving and what my horse is actually feeling of me is sort of a big new deal.
By "watching" myself ride, sort of acting like a ride-along spectator in my own body, I've discovered that part of why I was offering such poor feel to my horse when things got busy was that I was getting physically tired and spending a lot of time and effort on just keeping myself together. Time I should have been spending on offering the right feel to my horse. When I lost forty pounds, found some lower-back support and switched to a much higher-quality saddle that gave me a better riding position, I found a major change in my ability to keep my balance. This in turn meant that all that time I was spending not falling off while riding could now be spent on other things... like feeling where my horse's feet are.
I also started looking at the various riding exercises I do during clinics and everyday riding differently. I didn't necessarily start doing different things, or doing the exercises differently, I just started thinking differently about them while I was doing them. Instead of feeling like the exercise was "for the benefit of the horse" I started thinking of the exercise as being for my benefit. I also started trying to be analytical about them instead of just treating them as something that I did by rote to create muscle memory. I started spending more time looking at what I was doing, feeling and thinking while my horse and I did the exercise. I started discovering that I was missing things or doing them out of sequence or doing them on the wrong side or... but I hadn't been able to tell before because I was normally far too "in the moment" to be able to see what was going on.
For example, half the time when I was backing my horse, he would get stuck. Well, it turns out that half the time, I was releasing (cueing) him when the wrong foot was coming down. Why? Because I didn't know where his feet were. How could that possibly be? I have invested so much time learning to feel him move his feet. Counting footfalls. Feeling how his barrel sways as we walk. Not knowing where his feet are? Impossible!
Well, it turns out I only knew where his feet were supposed to be. I was starting my cues to him when I felt his body shift back, just assuming that his feet were positioned properly. If he moved the foot I thought he did, all went well and I was nicely timed up with him. If in fact his feet had been out of position and he was forced to move his other foot to start backing, I was completely out of sync with him and miscuing step after step. Naturally he would peter out and wind up just standing there exasperatedly.
You know what they say about assumption. "You make an ASS out of U and MPTION." Err... well... something like that.
So I started asking myself as we got soft and slowed to a stop, but before we rolled into the backup, "Exactly where ARE his feet right now?" It didn't take much time... even when I had to lean over and peek it was pretty quick.... but then when that first foot came back and hit the ground I KNEW which rein to release. Since I didn't have to waste time wondering and figuring out, I more than made up for the extra time I used stealing a peek... and he began backing much more smoothly.
I've also been practicing releasing even when I wasn't riding so I wouldn't have to spend time thinking about my hands on the reins and if I was throwing enough slack or too much or whatever. I would just think release, my hands would release and I could move on to thinking about other, more important things, like "Did he really reach back as far with that foot as I'd like? Could I get him to reach further next step by shifting my weight slightly?"
So I guess my amazing epiphany is that the devil is in the details and self-honesty is the path to righteousness. What the unfortunate students I mentioned above just don't get... and I didn't get until recently, is that it really is just as much how and when you do it as what you do, and if you haven't got all three, you haven't got your horse. And you can prove easily to yourself that even if you think you're doing it right, you're not. Because your horse isn't coming through. When you get it right, he will come through.
Simple. Not complicated at all. Difficult though.
However if you're willing to take a deep breath and work on becoming habitually, honestly observant of yourself, you can get some things working.
That's my theory and that's what I'm trying to do these days. Seems to be working because the more honest and accurate I get, the more my horse is coming through for me.
I also started looking at the various riding exercises I do during clinics and everyday riding differently. I didn't necessarily start doing different things, or doing the exercises differently, I just started thinking differently about them while I was doing them. Instead of feeling like the exercise was "for the benefit of the horse" I started thinking of the exercise as being for my benefit. I also started trying to be analytical about them instead of just treating them as something that I did by rote to create muscle memory. I started spending more time looking at what I was doing, feeling and thinking while my horse and I did the exercise. I started discovering that I was missing things or doing them out of sequence or doing them on the wrong side or... but I hadn't been able to tell before because I was normally far too "in the moment" to be able to see what was going on.
For example, half the time when I was backing my horse, he would get stuck. Well, it turns out that half the time, I was releasing (cueing) him when the wrong foot was coming down. Why? Because I didn't know where his feet were. How could that possibly be? I have invested so much time learning to feel him move his feet. Counting footfalls. Feeling how his barrel sways as we walk. Not knowing where his feet are? Impossible!
Well, it turns out I only knew where his feet were supposed to be. I was starting my cues to him when I felt his body shift back, just assuming that his feet were positioned properly. If he moved the foot I thought he did, all went well and I was nicely timed up with him. If in fact his feet had been out of position and he was forced to move his other foot to start backing, I was completely out of sync with him and miscuing step after step. Naturally he would peter out and wind up just standing there exasperatedly.
You know what they say about assumption. "You make an ASS out of U and MPTION." Err... well... something like that.
So I started asking myself as we got soft and slowed to a stop, but before we rolled into the backup, "Exactly where ARE his feet right now?" It didn't take much time... even when I had to lean over and peek it was pretty quick.... but then when that first foot came back and hit the ground I KNEW which rein to release. Since I didn't have to waste time wondering and figuring out, I more than made up for the extra time I used stealing a peek... and he began backing much more smoothly.
I've also been practicing releasing even when I wasn't riding so I wouldn't have to spend time thinking about my hands on the reins and if I was throwing enough slack or too much or whatever. I would just think release, my hands would release and I could move on to thinking about other, more important things, like "Did he really reach back as far with that foot as I'd like? Could I get him to reach further next step by shifting my weight slightly?"
So I guess my amazing epiphany is that the devil is in the details and self-honesty is the path to righteousness. What the unfortunate students I mentioned above just don't get... and I didn't get until recently, is that it really is just as much how and when you do it as what you do, and if you haven't got all three, you haven't got your horse. And you can prove easily to yourself that even if you think you're doing it right, you're not. Because your horse isn't coming through. When you get it right, he will come through.
Simple. Not complicated at all. Difficult though.
However if you're willing to take a deep breath and work on becoming habitually, honestly observant of yourself, you can get some things working.
That's my theory and that's what I'm trying to do these days. Seems to be working because the more honest and accurate I get, the more my horse is coming through for me.
...or maybe it's just that my teacher and coach, Bonnie Stoehn, is a damn good trainer.
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