Confessions of a Recovering Perfectionist
The Lesson Journal of Judith Tarr

Tuesday, November 18

I want to journal today's lesson, but I don't know if there's a coherent way to do it. The best I can do is sort of touch on what happened.

I freaked out. Got overwhelmed. Still processing why.

On the surface it was a profoundly simple session. I explained how I've been having a tough time shutting down the urge to overdo. The harder I try - not - to try, the tighter I get. I keep reverting to tension and poses. Those are old and ingrained habits and they're difficult to eradicate.

So, said S, stop worrying about the quality of the gait. Just focus on the transition. "Experiment until you find the way that makes it easiest for him to move forward." "In order to balance, you have to have motion." Balance in motion.

Ride the walk. Relax core and seatbones. Float breastbone forward. See what he does. Big, swinging walk is good. What can you do to make the walk swingier? Not leg, seatbones/pelvis. Don't force or "make." Allow. Leave room for his back.

All right, now do something. Doesn't matter what. Rotate shoulders, stretch arms upward. What happens when you stretch? Head comes up. Why? You hollow your back. Try to stretch without hollowing. Now see what he's doing – neck long, walk free and swinging.

Now try float the breastbone and open the hips (flop your knees outward, not too much, it's actually barely visible). Float, flop, float. What happens?

The whole back has inflated. I can't hear this, but S can. His forefeet have gone silent. No more thumping on the forehand. That I can feel. He feels like a huge round soft ball. Swing has diminished. Try to restore it – draw circles with seatbones.

That was where I got wiggy. I had totally sunk into the horse's body. I can't describe the feeling, except that it felt big and kind of like a balloon. And it made me dizzy. I had to keep my head up for it to work. His neck was very, very long and soft.

S stepped in and started stroking along his neck, showing him where to stretch and where to flex. He loved that. I was maxing out on "OMG this is what I've been looking for all this time and so often thought I had it but it wasn't anything near what it really is."

Then we sat there and I had melted into him and S was asking him to be aware of this or that part of his neck and quarters. And the sensation of floating in a bubble was so intense it was almost putting me to sleep. Then I glanced over at the horses in the stalls and one after another of them was standing in exactly the same square halt, watching. Carrma notably. Like a carved horse.

We had balanced the energy of the entire herd. We were grounded right down into the earth.

Homework is not to try to duplicate it. No try. Experiment. See what happens. Just keep riding and figuring things out and listening to the horse.

I had trouble figuring out if what I was feeling was me or him. It was mostly him, but I was having a strong emotional reaction because I've worked so long and so hard and taken so many detours, and here it is. Must cultivate the two minds. We both need to separate our personal self from the group self. He has processing to do, too.

He had remodeled his body even more after the lesson. Longer, softer neck, and even more withers. S has never seen a witherless horse grow a set before. Horses change profoundly with the work, she says, but that's a first for her. His breastbone, formerly very prominent, has risen into his chest and his entire shoulder and neck structure has altered. He's still not convinced he has full range of motion to the left, but the asymmetrical atlas is perfectly capable of achieving symmetry. He was doing it himself in the halt, experimenting with it, indulging in that long, smooth curve. Then pop! back to right banana.

S suspects that his hindquarters will reshape next – lengthening and deepening, with greater strength and flexibility over the loin. His croup looked flatter and his back was rather long and soft – trying to figure out what to do with it now it's not all hunched into a set of locked-solid shoulders and a compressed neck. His back and quarters were downright slinky as he paced the fence, checking on the mares.

We were introducing S to Camilla. Camilla has a well-developed, all too richly earned dislike of trainers. "Not a trainer!" S declared. "A masseuse!" Then she demonstrated. Camilla allowed as how that didn't feel too bad. She needs to remodel her neck, too. And relax. By the time we were done, she didn't want S to leave. She wanted More.

I can relate to that.

We are making rapid progress. All of this is exactly what we need. It's overwhelming because it's so different, but it's so clearly that we've been trying to find all this time. The amazing thing is how little effort it takes. That's my problem, as always. I'm not doing enough! I should be doing more!

I just have to get out of his way. Dead simple. In no way is it easy.

This time we've got it right. The horse's body doesn't lie.