-JM Barrie, Peter Pan
We’re freshly returned from a very, very needed vacation on
an isolated island in the Abaco Islands. It was a lovely experience for the most part and it brought one thing
clearly to the forefront of my mind. My
world revolves around trust.
I’m not a big fan of heights. From that you could correctly conjecture that
I am not a big fan of flying. I don’t
vomit, take sleeping pills or claw my neighbor, but I generally spend much of
the flight practicing my Zen breathing or something like that. As one of our flights made a sudden lurch,
leaving my stomach with a distinctly weightless feeling, I tried to reassure
myself by rehashing everything I know about aerodynamics. It didn’t help much. I found myself pondering air as a liquid and
contemplating how much I trusted that “liquid” to keep the tin can I was riding
in afloat.
Days later, I jumped off the dive boat, splashed into the
water and ducked my masked face under water.
Have you ever tried hyperventilating through a snorkel? Maybe we should all wear them before
Dressage. I don’t know why I have such apprehension
for the first few minutes I’m in the water.
I’m a fairly strong swimmer, the water has never failed to hold me up or
offered to pull me down, yet the apprehension remains as evidenced by my Darth
Vader impression. I once again found my
thoughts straying to the idea of trust.
Logically, I know salt water + wet suit + me = a happily floating snorkeler,
but I haven’t learned to trust that combination until tested and if its tested,
is it still trust?
This was the first vacation I’ve taken that was with a group
of people other than my family. I didn’t
do a lot of the planning. I didn’t print
out two hundred pages of research before heading out the door. I just trusted the others in the group and
went along. I was elected the D.D. of
our boat for obvious and predictable reasons (I’m the only one who doesn’t much
care for Rum), and that was almost our undoing.
They trusted me, but I didn’t trust myself. A couple of hairy moments and a mild panic
attack/hissy fit later and we were safely docked for the first time. Turns out even when I was having a meltdown,
I could still trust the team to get ‘er done safely. As the week went on I trusted the group and
my ability to pilot the boat more and more and we ended up having many safe an
uneventful boat trips around the islands, but it was only because of trust.So why do I so easily trust my horses, these 1000 lb. plus animals, to keep me on top, jump when I say jump, stop when I ask, miss me when they kick and come when I call? Why do I find peace when I settle into the saddle instead of the apprehension that so many other tasks in life bring? And moreover, how do I teach others to find that freeing calm?
A wise woman once said, much more eloquently than I, “I was terrified until I had a plan for what to do if things didn’t go as planned.” I guess I’ve spent enough time around horses that I always have a plan. It’s ingrained so deeply into my brain that I don’t even have to think about it. By not second guessing myself or my horse, I free myself. So here’s a Fresh Perspective, if you’re struggling with a concept or movement, trying letting go and trusting yourself and your horse. If that doesn’t work, you better try the pixie dust.
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