Exciting News (!) and Other January Steps

There's lots of news, relating to my goals for 2012, and some of it's pretty exciting!

First, one of my goals was to get training assistance with Pie and Drifter, both to work through some of their holes and issues, and to work with me and them together so we can deal with the issues I have due to my fall and how I interact with each horse.  Pie and Drifter will be moving to Black Star Farm in Wisconsin around March 1 for at least 30 days and perhaps longer.  Heather there is a long-term student of Mark Rashid's, is one of his very few approved trainers/instructors (I believe there are only 6 worldwide), and I know her and her family well and have watched her work with a number of horses over the years I've been attending Mark's clinics at her farm.  She's very good with the horses, can deal with whatever comes up in a quiet and effective way, her methods are consistent with Mark's, and she's also a good instructor.

She will initially spend about a week to 10 days working with and evaluating each horse.  After that, I'll be going up there (it's about an hour and a half drive each way) several times a week to work with her and the horses.  And we'll see what we see.  One thing I've asked her to do is give me an honest evaluation of whether either horse isn't suitable for me.  I've told her that I believe both of them can be good horses for me, once we get by this point and our immediate issues, but that I really want to know if I'm wrong about that with either horse.  One of my goals was also to get a Western saddle that fits both horses (if that's possible), preferably an About the Horse saddle.  Heather has a number of these saddles and we'll be able to try out different tree sizes so I'll know model and size to buy, either new or used.

I'm very excited about this and can't wait for March to get here!  We're waiting until then because at least there's a shot of doing some work outside in March.  As things go along, of course I'll be updating all of you about how Pie and Drifter and I do.  (Once things warm up and dry out a bit here, Dawn and I will go back to work here on what we're working on - it's amazing to say, and it took a lot of work to get here, but Dawn is now very familiar to me, and she and I know how to work together.)

Second, I had a goal to develop a mindfulness/meditation practice.  I've been working to do some daily meditation, and to bring mindfulness to everyday life.  I'm also taking a drawing course - I find drawing to be a very mindful practice.

Third, I had a goal to improve my fitness, core strength and balance.  I'm starting a t'ai chi chih course this week - it's great for balance and also has a strong mindfulness/body awareness element.  I'm going to be starting some strength training shortly - more about that as it comes along.  I've upped my walking time and speed as well - I'm up to about 3 miles a day.  I've also modified my diet to elimate pretty much all red meat - we're mostly vegetarian, in fact vegan since we mostly use olive or canola oil rather than butter - with only occasional chicken or fish, and some eggs.

Fourth, I had a goal to take some lessons on trained horses.  I have calls in to two dressage instructors, and hope to start taking some lessons with one or both of them soon.

I'm pretty pleased with how 2012 is going so far, one step at a time . . .

Post-Traumatic Stress After Serious Riding Accidents

Apparently, post-traumatic stress symptoms are common in people who've experienced traumatic accidents, such as traffic accidents, involving broken bones, or head injuries, or hospitalization.  It also makes sense that this happens after a serious riding accident.  One common symptom is refusal or reluctance to engage in the activity that led to the accident, and envisioning possible negative outcomes from engaging in the activity.  Some of you in your comments have noted my dread/lack of enjoyment from riding my horses, and that's certainly true.

This understanding comes as a relief to me - I'm a bit slow on the uptake, apparently.  I'm not old, or incompetent, and my horses, while they may be challenging at time, are just fine.  It's just that I'm still processing, mentally, emotionally and physically, the effects of the accident.  My reluctance/dread/lack of pleasure in riding and working with the horses are perfectly natural effects of the accident.  There are some things I can do to help work this through, including consciously directing thought patterns into more positive stories ("reframing") as my horses and I come through this together.

This validates for me my plan and goals for 2012.  While my horses are on "winter vacation" (you should see our arena - it would have qualified last week for ice hocky events), I'm planning to take some lessons on easier (more thoroughly trained) horses to get the habit of riding back and solidify my abilities to ride "in" rather than on, the horse.  I'll also be working with an experienced trainer who's a student of Mark Rashid, probably starting in March, as I bring my three horses back into work, so she can oversee and advise with our getting back into business.  I'll be working on my core strength and stamina, as well as my balance, to make sure I'm fit to do what I want to, which is work with and ride my three wonderful, full of personality horses - Dawn, Pie and Drifter deserve nothing less.

P.S. - read the comments - there's more interesting stuff in there . . .

(A very big thank you for all the supportive, insightful and challenging comments - I very much appreciated them all and they were a great help to me in thinking these things through.  And read this post of Mugwump's - that's where I want to get to with my work with my horses.)

Am I (Too) Old (for This)?

A couple of things have happened lately that have given me pause.  Someone I know well, and who knows horses well, commented that my horses - all three of them - were "dangerous".  I sort of went "huh??"  She explained that what she meant wasn't that they were mean or harmful, just that they might be dangerous to me - Pie because he's young and green and has a big spin when he spooks, Drifter because he's smart and spoiled and therefore sometimes resistant, and Dawn because . . . well, just because she's Dawn . . . because I'm, as she put it, getting older - "you're almost 60" - and probably not in good enough physical shape due to age and inadequate conditioning.  After I got over being offended, I understood that she was just worried about me - she said she wasn't questioning my competence, just my age and physical ability, including strength, balance and agility.  Well, that certainly was a slap upside the head, so to speak.

And then the last time I was working with Drifter, he was pulling some big stunts on the lunge line until we got things sorted out, and several boarders were watching from outside the arena.  Later, someone who overheard them talking told me they said I was crazy to be working with a horse like him and that I was at risk of getting hurt.  Well, how about those potatoes . . .  I don't know if they thought I was incompetent or just an old lady who couldn't cut it anymore. Now some of his antics were pretty dramatic, but I'd put his rope halter on for extra control and we worked things through - strained my shoulders pretty good, though.  When I heard about what they'd been saying, my feelings were a mixture of annoyance and wounded pride and a tinge of shame - I care way too much what other people think and felt they were judging my abilities as lacking.  While I was working with Drifter, it took a lot of physical effort and concentration to deal with his shennigans, but I had a clear plan and was working through it with him until we got to where we needed to be, but to an observer - they were all a good bit younger than me - it might have looked like a old woman cluelessly lungeing an out-of-control horse.

Am I too old to be doing what I'm doing and riding and working with the horses I have? I certainly don't have any problem being the age I am now - I don't wear makeup, will never have plastic surgery or other "enhancements", have plenty of sun damage to my skin and lots of wrinkles, and getting and staying in shape are a lot more effort than they used to be.  I don't have any problem getting old . . . it's just that I've never felt like it was happening to me (denial or reality, who knows?) - I've never felt old, or even middle-aged, in my own head.  I'm in better shape physically than I've been in a while (although I could be in a lot better shape).  And, before my fall off Pie, I would have said I was a competent rider and able to work with horses like Dawn, Pie and Drifter. In fact I took pride in my abilities - it was part of my self-image - whether that pride was justified or not is hard to say (and I always think pride is a pretty questionable feeling, but there it is), and I always have a need to prove my competence, and even if truth be told, show off a little.  These are not traits I like in myself, but there they are. So, I think that's why the bystanders' comments really hurt - instead of thinking I was doing a good job handling Drifter's difficulties, they just thought I was an idiot, whether rightly (because I am one) or wrongly (because they didn't understand what I was doing) or somewhere in-between (I don't think I'm an idiot but I could have done a better job).

And I don't think my fall off Pie showed my incompetence - anyone, no matter how good a rider, could have fallen off during a spook/spin like that.  The severity of the concussion and the broken bones could be due to my age, I guess - the body isn't as resilient as we get older - but I was angry/upset/embarrassed that my previous lifetime record of no hospitalizations or broken bones due to horse-related incidents had been destroyed - for goodness sake, I hadn't fallen off but 3 times previously as an adult and none of those were serious.  Nothing like a bad fall to throw a spanner into the works of one's self-image and confidence.  I'm clearly getting older - just looking in the mirror tells me that - and certain things, like the heavy labor involved in caring myself for the horses at our self-care barn, are difficult and increasingly annoying. But it had never occurred to me that anyone would think I was over the hill . . .

But then I don't want to be the old lady whose family has to take away the car keys (so to speak) to keep her from injuring herself or others, because she's too proud or lacking in self-awareness to realize that she's not capable of doing what she wants to do and has always done for her whole life.  I don't think I'm there yet, but only time will tell, I guess . . .

Mind the Gap . . . Intent, Focus and the (Un)Cluttered MInd

This post has a number of aspects, but it's mainly about how we (at least I, but I'm going to use "we" on the assumption that I'm not the only one) mess up our communications with our horses through various types of mental clutter.  Working (there's that word again) with horses is primarily a mental/emotional thing - of course we have to have physical skills as well, but, once we're past a basic level of competency, the whole thing is driven by our minds - in the broad sense of intent, emotion and degree of "mental clutter" - and how they help or hurt the interaction with the horse.  It's the union of our minds with the horse's mind that drive the union of our bodies so we can do the work together.

Mugwump did a post a few days ago that touches on this topic - read the comments - some of the most interesting stuff is in there. For those of us who rode as kids, it's interesting to compare how it felt to ride as a kid and how it feels now - there's often a big difference and a lot of the difference may not be positive.  Yes, maybe we know how to do a precisely timed canter departure or jump a hunter course or do a dressage test or ride a reining pattern, but is all that "knowing" enough?  I'd argue that often there's a big something that can get lost - and it's an innate, direct connection with the horse where we wanted to do something and we (the horse and I) just did it together - what I'd call an instinctive way of riding.  There really wasn't a lot of thought involved, just a close connection with the horse.

I know this is true for me.  I started riding when I was very small, and had no formal training at all until I was in college.  I just got on the horse (almost always bareback), rode until I fell off, got on again, and just did that for years until it felt right.  I would ride most any horse, even those other people didn't like or were afraid of, and anything I wanted the horse to do the horse just did.  I raced, I jumped, I rode in parades, I took horses swimming, and mostly I just rode, at all gaits and on all types of horses.

Now, why did we have that connection with the horse as a kid and how does that very close instinctive connection (sometimes or forever) get lost as an adult?  This is the "gap" I refer to in the title - it comes from the announcement "mind the gap" that's made on the London Tube (subway) when you board the trains - it's that scary gap between the platform and the train.

For me the problems as an adult come from two things - muddying our communication of intent to the horse, and allowing doubt (or recently after my bad accident last summer even worry/fear) to creep in and contaminate the intention we communicate with our thoughts to the horse - and it's no wonder the horses have trouble doing what we want or even trusting us enough to listen.

First, on muddying of intent.  Mugwump's post makes a very important point - if you clearly intent to do something, and it's important to you, the horse can act on that intent.  It's partly a matter of expectation - if you expect the horse to do something, good or bad, that's likely to be what you get more often than not.  I think part of this is having a clear, specific intent that your horse can read (and not to get all mystical, but there's a lot more to it than physical cues - it's a matter of focus and mental energy as much as anything).  And then there's the expectation that the horse will do it, because you think it's important (if you don't care or you're uncertain about whether you want it, your horse will pick that up and you're unlikely to get it).  Now of course, horses have to have the space and time (and our patience)  to learn how to do what we're asking, but if we focus on what we want, clearly and calmly, no matter what the horse's response, and reward tries towards our goal, we'll get there.  This focus on what we want the horse to do with us, instead of on what we don't want the horse to do (this is why, in my opinion, training schools that focus on making the wrong thing hard rather than on making the right thing easy often have things backwards), is one of the most important things I've learned from Mark Rashid.  (Please take a minute to read his very important post on the question of degrees of separation that we introduce into our interactions with the horse due to our tendency to take our focus off our goal, often in reaction to something the horse does - I cited this in an earlier post but it's very germaine to this question of focus and intent.)

The other way I think we muddy our communication of intent is to overanalyze/intellectualize what we're doing.  I think this is a particular risk for "technical" riders - dressage and reining come to mind, but there are other types as well - and also for those of us who are working to improve and who are learning new "techniques" - ways to time cues, ways to be softer/more precise, ways to think about moving particular feet, etc.  There's a risk that, if we over-think (what we're doing or what the horse is or isn't doing) or over-complicate, we will lose the clarity of intent and focus that communicates most effectively to the horse.  It's not that simple, of course, but I think you get the idea - our minds, in an intellectual sense, can introduce a separation between our intent/focus and the horse.

And then there's the problem of the cluttered mind - what some of the meditative traditions refer to as "monkey mind" (no insult intended to monkeys, but then tend to be very busy little creatures) - full of thoughts, doubts, memories, plans, distractions of all types - if you've ever done any mediation work you know what I mean: there's a lot of clutter in there most of the time.  I think horses have some trouble interacting with people whose minds are not (relatively) clear and focussed - the intent that's communicated to the horse is clouded by mental noise and also often by emotions - doubt, fear, worry, etc.  Horses pick these emotions up very easily and they can color their responses.  It's well beyond the point of this post to talk about how to unclutter a cluttered mind - I think it's partly a matter of recognizing the issue and partly a matter of practice and habit.

A brief digression on Dawn, Drifter and Pie.  After my accident, my interactions and relationship with Dawn were pretty much unchanged - we worked together just as before - our riding relationship goes back several years now and nothing much changed.  Both Drifter and Pie had some physical issues due to their infection with the EPM organism that interfered with our work and their comfort level and ability to do what I asked.  Drifter was picking up my uncertainty and my emotional clutter - he's very sensitive and a bit emotional himself - and his answer was to test me - he wasn't sure I could be trusted or ought to be respected as a leader. Pie had a reaction to my fall that isn't unusual for a young horse (read this post I did on a young horse at a Mark Rashid clinic whose rider had fallen - the horse came unglued and lost most of its training - Pie's case is different but there are some similarities).  Pie had confidence in his rider - his old man and then me - and in his rider's guidance and leadership if something scared him - one of the best things about him was that if he spooked/startled, he would calm right down again.  But when I fell and was incapacitated, I was not available for him to calm and guide him after he was scared by whatever it was (a group of fast-moving bikes with large flags on the back, or so I believe) - it was as if I had abandonned him.  So now he's much more inclined to worry and be spooky, and to not calm down once he's scared - he's not sure he's safe any more with me and this is reinforced by the gap I'm allowing to come between my intent (to go down the trail) and him - "will a deer jump out?" "what's that noise?" "is that a child running down the trail?" - my guidance and leadership for him is not only muddied but contaminated by worry.

I think for me the solution lies somewhere along the lines of: Have a clear thought of the task (very specifically - say, ride at a walk from X to A in a straight line) I want to do together with the horse and keep my physical movements/cues/aids to the barest minimum so the horse can pick up what I am thinking, avoid inserting extraneous thoughts/emotions in between my intention and the horse, and keep my focus on the task no matter what - if extraneaous thought/emotions arise, just gently refocus on the task; if the horse does something other than what I intend, refocus the horse on the task.   Much easier said than done, of course, but I think we can get there and that Pie and Drifter and I can reconnect and keep going from there - the objective is softness from the inside where there's a real, live connection and they can respond to my thought and direction.  Here's hoping for spring . . .

Rebuilding Connections

Today I just gave each horse a thorough grooming - it was in the 40sF with wind and the footing was terrible - packed snow and ice.  I've been feeling that I've lost that close connection with the horses, and I though that some slow grooming would be one way to start to get that back.  With each horse, I took my gloves off while I was grooming so I could use my hands to touch and feel them - that horse/human/horse touch is very important to our connection and it's easy to lose that in the winter.

Dawn has been distracted and overly alert, so I tried to be calm and slow with her.  She's often crabby or restless for grooming, but she was pretty relaxed - I didn't get a head rest but she was paying attention to me.  Pie has been very crabby - lots of ear pinning - for grooming lately, so for a change I took him out of his stall and put him on cross ties.  He was very sweet and responsive - the crabbiness must be food-related - and seemed to enjoy his grooming, and his ears never went back once.  Drifter has been very lively lately - he even tried to play bitey face (with my face) with me today when he was in his paddock - not OK (I was very clear with him about that) but I understand his restlessless as he's on solo turnout and has no one else to play with.  He was very happy and relaxed on cross ties today and really seemed to enjoy his grooming.

At the end of each grooming session, I had each horse back a step or two for a click and treat - a nice way to end our sessions.  It felt good to groom and run my hands over each horse, taking my time and not being in a hurry, and they seemed to enjoy it as well.  Slow steps to regain connections . . .