One Thing Leads to Another Pt. 5: Riding Lessons Act 1

After weeks of waiting, Khemo and I finally had our first lesson with the Morgan mare’s person’s dressage trainer. We'll call her #1. 1 was a good teacher. She was knowledgeable and she genuinely liked horses. It showed in her manner with them. She was attentive and communicated clearly. It’s too bad we only had a few lessons with her -- 5 at the most, spread out over several months.

Barn politics were part of the reason our lessons ended. A group of dressage riders at the barn and a few of the jumper riders who were “cross-training” wanted to bring in a certain local dressage trainer one of their circle had befriended. Let’s call this trainer #2. 2 had spent some time -- not all that much -- riding with a luminary of the competitive dressage scene. That was her only claim to expertise, but to the group of riders at our barn she was almost a “rock star”. These women, including our barn manager, wanted lessons with 2, and lesson day would have to be Saturday because most of them, like me, had full-time jobs. With winter coming the small indoor arena would be needed, and with 2 teaching there all day on Saturdays there would be no room for other lessons. The Morgan’s person, who did not work, simply switched her lessons to Wednesday mornings. Since that was not an option for me, I was once more in search of a riding teacher.

Around this time Sally Swift’s book, “Centered Riding”, came into my hands. This was the kind of instruction I wanted! I tried working from the book, but with only minimal success. It was clear I needed “eyes on the ground” until my feel was much more educated and developed. I knew, though, that I wanted to be a good rider, one who did not interfere with the horse’s movement, who could flow with the horse. I wanted the relationship to be not only harmonious but joyful. I wanted the horse, I wanted Khemo, to enjoy having me on his back.

Khemo and I continued our “unserious” trail riding, and I continued my voracious reading of anything having to do with classical dressage. I read about the French school and the German school, about Baucher and Steinbrecht; I read Pluvinel and de la Gueriniere and Oliveira, and I read about suppling and strengthening exercises. I was learning a lot about the art of dressage but I wasn’t learning much about being a better rider.

What made me finally join the barn crowd and begin taking lessons from #2 remains a mystery. What made me stick it out for over a year is an even bigger one. Maybe I hoped for a sense of belonging at the barn. Maybe I lacked the patience to hold out for what I really wanted and figured something was better than nothing. (Note to self: beware of this thought -- it can be a dangerous basis on which to make a decision.) Or maybe I just doubted my ability to make an accurate evaluation of a dressage trainer. After all, I’d been reading about the subject for less than a year... and hadn’t actually been “doing” it for any time at all. What credibility did I have in this area? Whatever the reason, I began taking lessons from 2.

“Lessons in what?” is a question worth asking. 2 certainly didn’t teach riding. What I remember from my time with her is having Khemo trot countless 20 meter circles while 2, sitting on the mounting block at the far end of the arena wrapped in a wool horse cooler, would intermittently “instruct”: “inside leg to the outside rein” and “shorten your reins.” Aside from the occasional direction to change rein, or change gait or shorten my reins (that was an oft repeated command), “inside leg to the outside rein” was the only thing 2 ever “taught.” There were no corrections of my position, no discussions of theory (as I recall, 2's reading preference ran to romance novels)... not even an explanation of why “inside leg to the outside rein.”

Usually at some point during our session one of 2's other students would come into the arena to pay for her lesson, or to set up the next one, and usually some chit chat between student and teacher would ensue. More often than not when she was chatting with a student, 2 would completely forget about Khemo and me. The first time this happened I wondered about the proper etiquette of the situation. Should we just keep trotting until the student left and 2 could focus on us again? No, I thought. That’s silly. There’s no telling how long this could go on.. So, whenever 2 was distracted like this, Khemo and I would commence walking the full arena on a long rein.

During one memorable session we were joined by Murphy, a handsome calico, one of six or so resident barn cats. It was not uncommon for the cats to nap in the tall stacks of hay stored at the far end of the arena, nor was it unusual for them to pass through the ring in their travels from one part of the farm to another. Khemo and I were trotting another one of those endless circles accompanied by intermittent intonations of 2's mantra -- "inside leg to the outside rein" -- when one of 2’s students came in. As 2 and the student settled in for their chat, Khemo and I slowed down to the walk... as usual.

As we were approaching the doorway that led from the barn into the arena, Murphy made his entrance. Instead of scooting across the arena to leave by the door on the opposite side, or turning right to head toward the hay stacks, Murphy paused for a moment at the door before he turned left and began walking on the track just far enough ahead of Khemo to avoid being stepped on. Khemo, nose almost to the ground, and I followed Murphy, always maintaining the safe distance. When Murphy picked up his pace Khemo picked up ours. We did a couple of circuits of the arena like this, alternating between walking and slowly trotting. I was so engrossed in this inter-species game that I hadn’t noticed 2’s student leaving. Suddenly I heard, “Is he chasing that cat?” This was asked in a tone that was a cocktail of disbelief and disapproval, with a dash of mild reprimand.

“Well, we’re following Murphy,” I replied truthfully, “but I don't think we’re actually trying to catch him.”

“Well, stop it,” said 2. “You can’t just let that horse do whatever he wants. He has to know who’s boss.”

Smiling, and fully aware that "that horse" was still following Murphy, I answered: “Oh, he knows who’s boss. He is.”

Murphy scooted out the door then and I suppose Khemo and I resumed our circling. Like all the other lessons I had with 2 this one did not leave any lasting traces in my memory.... except of course for “the game.” Very likely there were more trot circles accompanied by more intonations of “inside leg to the outside rein” and instructions to “shorten your reins.” But all these years later, Murphy’s and Khemo’s impromptu “following game” remains vivid in my mind and still brings a big smile to my face. I feel honored to have been a part of it.

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If the only “adverse side effects” of my hours with 2 had been wasted time and money, I could chalk up my decision to ride under her “tutelage” as yet one more silly but basically harmless mistake of mine and forget about the whole misadventure. I could end this blog entry here. Unfortunately, there were some serious consequences of my decision, harmful consequences, -- and the harm was to Khemo.

All of 2's students were attempting to ride their horses in a certain "frame". To achieve this frame they were driving with their legs (often using spurs) into tautly held reins. From my reading, I was beginning to get the idea that this was absolutely not what I was supposed to be doing ... but, because I had very little idea of what I should be doing instead, I obediently shortened my reins as instructed and gave “more leg” -- at least during our sessions.

Over time, riding like that destroys a horse’s movement because it is destroying the horse. It over-develops the “wrong” muscles as it atrophies the “correct” ones. The rider’s action prevents the horse from using his back and pelvis correctly, thus putting undue stress the joints of the leg. This is only the broad outline of the damage being done, a rough sketch. Filling in the details is not the purpose of this entry. Suffice it to say, this kind of riding causes severe and extensive physical and emotional damage to the horse... some of it permanent.

The damage to Khemo was not as terrible as it might have been, because, when I wasn’t actually in a lesson with 2 (once every week or two), I rode on a quite long rein. And around that time I began practicing using visualization as my primary aid, as recommended by Dominique Barbier (see previous post "A Book Encourages Me"). So, at least I wasn’t driving into a fixed rein whenever I rode. One of Barbier’s injunctions was: “With every stride you have the chance to release. Take the chance!” I did my best to put that into practice. And, much of our riding took place on the trails. The varied terrain and moving in straight lines on a loose rein was probably, on the whole, less damaging than the “repetitive stress” of forcing Khemo’s body into an artificial frame on endless circles would have been. At least, that's what I tell myself as consolation. But, I have no doubt now that despite my good intentions, I was harming Khemo by what I was doing then.

At the time I did not even consider the idea that riding itself, no matter how good, might be harmful to a horse. That possibility was something I would come to consider much later in my journey.

And, to be fair, the riding I was doing under 2's tutelage was only part of the harm I was doing to my beloved Khemo. In addition to my own bad riding, there was poor saddle fit. Shoeing. Lack of good dental care. Stall confinement, vaccinations, blanketing.... All these things, many of them aspects of what tradition considered good horse keeping practice, were causing Khemo various degress of harm, albeit without my knowing it.

In fact, Khemo had been harmed before he ever came to me by his “career” as a show horse in English Country Pleasure classes. As a 4 year old he was trussed up in a double bridle and asked to show “flashy movement” which, since he hadn’t had a chance to learn how to use his back and pelvis to collect correctly, consisted of moving fast with a hollow back, throwing his front legs out in front of him, and showing a lot of “hock action” without any carrying power. This movement was exaggerated by special shoeing, with the toes left extra long.

It would be quite a while before the reality of what is done to horses in the name of human pleasure -- of what I was doing to Khemo -- would begin to be clear to me. My questioning the most basic traditional horse care practices was many years off in the future. Learning about all this was a process. A long process. My reading at the time sparked the glimmering of an inkling of an idea that maybe my “teacher” didn’t actually have a clue. This questioning of a supposed authority was the beginning of that learning process for me.

Please do not think I blame 2 for anything. I don’t. I know better, now. There was a time when I did blame her. I thought her ignorant and incompetent, and blamed her (silently, to myself) for ..... not knowing more, not caring more, not educating herself better, not knowing the harm she was doing to horses. Then I woke up to an essential truth:

When we assume ownership of a horse we have control over every aspect of his life -- where and how he lives, what he eats, the quality of the water he drinks, whether or not he gets to associate with other horses and for how long and under what circumstances. We decide whether he wears a bit or not, and, if he does, what kind.We choose the saddle he wears. We decide if he is to be shod or not, and we select the person who who trims his hooves or applies the shoes. We are the ones who hire the people who work on this horse, be they veterinarians, grooms, trainers... ALL of the responsibility for this horse and what happens to him is ours, and ours alone.

It took me some time to really “get” that, but once I did, blaming anyone else for something that went wrong just was not an option for me anymore.

So, this is the end of the first installment of “riding lessons.” There will be more. In the meantime, here are the lessons learned from this part of the journey:

Learned from Khemo (and Murphy): Never pass up a chance to have some good fun!

Learned from Experience: In the United States anyone can hang out a shingle and charge money to teach riding, train horses, shoe horses, trim hooves, etc. No training, official licensing, or proof of basic competence is required. When we assume ownership of a horse, every aspect of his life is in our hands. It is up to us to learn enough to accurately assess the skills of the people we hire to work on our horse. This applies even to veterinarians. Though they do have to undergo a course of training and are required to be licensed, there are good ones and not-so-good ones and downright bad ones, as in every trade and profession. We make the decision as to which one gets to work on the horse in our care -- the good one, or one of the other ones. So, it behooves us to do our homework, to know what to look for in a skilled practitioner, and to not settle for less than the best of the ones available to us. Sometimes, we have to make a decision even though we don’t have all the knowledge we need. In those situations it is particularly important that we tune into our own feelings and the horse's. We always have our intuition, we always have the intelligence of the heart, and we can have our horse’s input, if we ask for it and listen closely.

So, to sum up: When it comes to selecting teachers, or people to work on your horse, "choose wisely Grasshopper.." Remember that "something" (or someone) is not always better than nothing. Sometimes, "nothing" (or no one) is the better alternative, the less harmful choice.