Savoring an "Ah-Ha" Moment

I had an “ah-ha” moment in my riding lesson this week and I want to savor it. You see I am not much of an “ah-ha” moment learner. My learning progress is one more of reflection than instant flashes of insight. I’ll do something and then I will go home and think about what happened. I mull things over, replay them in my mind and eventually insight might dawn on me. But to have that exciting flash where everything is suddenly clear, well that just doesn’t happen too often.
That isn’t to say that I have never had an “ah-ha” moment with my riding. The earliest one I can recall happened long ago when I was first learning to ride. It was long before I had ever heard of natural horsemanship or Pat Parelli. I was taking riding lessons at the Carousel Park Equestrian Center in Delaware and at 28, I was the oldest student in the class by at least 15 years and generally embarrassed by that.
Most weeks I rode a chunky, evil tempered bay mare named Gracie. She was a ‘been there, done that’ kind of lesson horse and she was committed to doing as little as possible during our lessons. I didn’t have too much trouble when at the walk or the trot but the canter was a problem. I usually could get Gracie into a canter if I worked hard enough at it but I couldn’t keep her cantering.
The instructor was a rail thin, middle-aged woman who was always impeccably turned out in riding breeches that looked like they had never seen the back of a horse. She was clearly more comfortable teaching students younger than I and never seemed to be paying attention to what I was doing. She rarely spoke to me except when Gracie dropped out of a canter and then she would turn and bark “Keep your leg on that horse!”
This annoyed me no end because it was obvious to me at least that my leg, in fact both of my legs, were on the horse. So I would urge Gracie back into a canter by digging my heels into her sides and then try to maintain the gait once more with some enthusiastic clucking and flapping of my legs. Most of the time it was to no avail as Gracie would canter perhaps half a lap before dropping back into an incredibly fast and hard to ride trot. It was frustrating for me and probably not much fun for Gracie either.
This went on for the better part of a year. Weather permitting, I rode twice a week, taking one evening lesson and coming out on the weekends for a trail ride. My body was getting used to the rigors of riding and by early spring, my legs were no longer sore after each lesson. Other students in the class progressed to more advanced horses, that were more athletic and willing partners but I was stuck with Gracie.
Then one Wednesday evening in April, a miracle happened. The instructor gave the command to canter our horses and I pushed Gracie up into the faster gait. My legs were wrapped around her ample barrel and after half a lap when I felt her start to break into a trot I tightened my grip with my legs. Gracie maintained the canter; in fact she increased her speed slightly. As we lapped the arena, once, twice, three times, sustaining gait the entire way, I could feel my legs maintaining a steady pressure on her sides. “Oh my God!” I thought to myself, “This is what she’s been talking about all these months when she told me to put my leg on the horse.” I wanted to shout to the instructor, “Hey, look at me! My leg is on this horse!” When I glanced in her direction, she was busy looking elsewhere but it didn’t spoil the moment because in that instant, I had understood what she had been trying to tell me for the past eight months.
Over the years I have had other flashes of insight but they have generally been few and far between, which is why what happened in my lesson this week was something to celebrate.
I’ve had my current horse, Sonny, for six years. He was six when I bought him and before I owned him, he was a “husband’s horse”. He had been used primarily for trail riding and was rock solid on trails but he wasn’t overly flexible and he has never had a consistent right lead when cantering. Two Star Parelli Instructor Jane Bartsch has been helping me with this problem. Occasionally I have been able to get him to take the correct lead when circling to the right but it has been far from consistent and despite Jane’s best efforts, I’ve been having a hard time trying to visualize what I needed to do with my body and what Sonny needed to do with his body in order to make it easier for him to take this lead. To make matters worse, as Sonny has become more supple and athletic, it has become harder for me to determine if he is on the correct lead or if he is counter cantering, making it difficult to work on the problem when I was along. It was become very frustrating.
I was working Sonny in a circle to make it easier for him to pick up the correct lead. Jane had been trying to explain to me where Sonny’s ribs and back feet needed to be in order for him to pick up his right lead. “His ribs are pointing to the inside of the circle,” she told me. “That makes it hard for him to pick up the lead. You need to stay out of his way. Your weight is too far forward.”
I repositioned my body and mentally reviewed the litany of instructions she had been giving me.
. “Sit back. Lead with your right hand. Now reach around with you left hand and tickle him on his butt with the mecate.”
Sonny popped immediately into the canter. As we cantered around the end of the arena I looked over at Jane and asked if he was on his right lead.
“No.” Jane answered, “He’s on the left lead.”
I slowed him into the trot but before I could circle him for another try, Jane instructed me to trot down the long side of the arena and ask him for the canter when I came to the next corner.
Trotting down the rail I noticed that Sonny’s neck and nose were flexed away from the inside of the circle. If he was going to canter properly, I knew that I needed to correct that. When we reached the corner, just as sat back and chirped at him to ask for the canter, I pushed on Sonny’s right side with my inside leg. I saw Sonny’s neck and nose flex toward the center of the arena just as his ribs moved away from my leg, putting a bend in his body. He popped into the canter and this time I knew immediately he was on the correct lead. Cantering down the long side of the arena I whooped at Jane. “That was right, wasn’t it?” I asked her.
When I reached the other end, I stopped Sonny and gave him a cookie. Then I asked for the canter again, making sure to apply my leg to move his ribs out of the way. He took the correct lead a second time. We stopped and tried it again, and for a third time he took the correct lead. By this time I was smiling from ear to ear, because, in a flash, I had finally understood what Jane had meant about just getting out of Sonny’s way. For some reason, seeing Sonny’s ribs move away from my leg had been the key to understanding all of Jane’s earlier explanations and I was thrilled with the outcome.
I know that my goal to become a skilled horsewoman is actually a journey and I know that despite today’s success, Sonny and I have a long way to go before his right lead is as solid as his left lead. I expect that most of what I learn along the way will come from hard work and reflection but there will also be those rare occasions when a flash insight hits me and I intend to savor those ah-ha moments.