Wednesday, April 30, 2008
Wednesday, April 23, 2008
Well, We're Movin' on Up Part II: April 23, 2008
“‘Well? Shall we go?’
‘Yes, let’s go.’
[They do not move.]”
- Samuel Beckett, Waiting for Godot
Well, buttercups, I've moved Nic again. Yes, this is our 3rd barn in the past 12 months. And yes, children, it's almost a year to the day since my last trainer change. I hope this isn't becoming a pattern, a perpetual spring cleaning of sorts.
I've written in the past about certain watershed moments in my dressage education - those singular events that force enlightenment in such a profound manner that time cracks its shell, and when the arena footing settles, I'm left with the realization that I can't go back to the way things were previously. A new phase is born and the other one's dead.
Last spring, after firing Trainer and taking those few lessons with Napalm, I experienced one of these watershed moments. Nic's willing acceptance of the bit, and the consequent reduction in stiffness, was like an air traffic controller waving red panels aiding a pilot to land the plane - something you just can't ignore. I knew a corner had been turned, and in good conscience I could not return to the way things were before, even if I had wanted to.
In dressage, a good trainer is known as "Classical with a capital 'C'" and a bad trainer is known as "all they do is force the horse's head down." The difference, although profound, is usually subtle, until you know that which you can't un-know.
Yes, I'm being deliberately esoteric; I have no clue how to relate what has prompted this latest move. One of the things I struggle with regarding this blog is how to relate the calamity of rather dramatic and stupidly annoying events in such a way that's amusing, while protecting the identities of the parties in question. It's beyond the purposes of this blog to simply bitch about this person or that person, and is too adolescent for me to consider.
Also, the dynamics of the dressage world, and the rate at which knowledge tends to unfold itself to me, is too fast-paced to assume that my opinions about people will remain solid from one moment to the next. The trainer who appears to conjure enlightenment will, like a magic trick, reveal themselves to approach dressage from a different theoretical base than I do. And again, and again, and again, I’m left to sort things out on my own.
So, it's impossible for me to commit to writing anything about real-life individuals, save myself and Nic. Doing so would merely present the reader with a litany of caricatures, rather than an involved discussion of Nic's training. I suppose one of the pitfalls of enlightenment is the evolutionary aspect to it; an idea that seems sturdy and immovable as a fortress at the moment is, in fact, disposable and jello-like the next moment, especially for someone in their novitiate, such as myself. Iconoclasm is too much a hallmark of my dressage experience for me to commit to a singular, permanent, opinion.
I suppose the simplest explanation is that the place to which I moved Nic teaches dressage using the same theoretical base that I try to practice, and the change in Nic prevents me from going backwards. The most important moment I felt in the past couple weeks, thanks to the schoolmaster lessons, is the level of connection and rideability that develops, of the horse's own volition, when the rider encourages enough hind end action from the horse. I believe these schoolmaster lessons are the first time in my riding experience that the level of power necessary to produce a truly through horse has been demanded. I've always been encouraged to use the reins, to either supple her, bend her, or slow her down, more with Nic than both she and I have been comfortable with. When she is truly through and pushing from behind, I don't need to use the reins in the same way.
The sun has set, the moon has set, and, yes, even those distant centers of light, the stars, have set. High tide has come and gone, yet I’m still marooned with my thoughts. I can’t do this alone; I need a context to guide me. I suppose it's just time for me to move on. It's not my style to remain adrift in the muddy pretext of pretend, spinning my wheels; I want to learn to train my horse, told how to improve, and be demanded of excellence. If it's not happening in one place, like a game of chess, damn straight I'm going to determine my next move. In the quest for knowledge, if I've hit a dead end, I can either stagnate or move forward, right?
‘Yes, let’s go.’
[They do not move.]”
- Samuel Beckett, Waiting for Godot
Well, buttercups, I've moved Nic again. Yes, this is our 3rd barn in the past 12 months. And yes, children, it's almost a year to the day since my last trainer change. I hope this isn't becoming a pattern, a perpetual spring cleaning of sorts.
I've written in the past about certain watershed moments in my dressage education - those singular events that force enlightenment in such a profound manner that time cracks its shell, and when the arena footing settles, I'm left with the realization that I can't go back to the way things were previously. A new phase is born and the other one's dead.
Last spring, after firing Trainer and taking those few lessons with Napalm, I experienced one of these watershed moments. Nic's willing acceptance of the bit, and the consequent reduction in stiffness, was like an air traffic controller waving red panels aiding a pilot to land the plane - something you just can't ignore. I knew a corner had been turned, and in good conscience I could not return to the way things were before, even if I had wanted to.
In dressage, a good trainer is known as "Classical with a capital 'C'" and a bad trainer is known as "all they do is force the horse's head down." The difference, although profound, is usually subtle, until you know that which you can't un-know.
Yes, I'm being deliberately esoteric; I have no clue how to relate what has prompted this latest move. One of the things I struggle with regarding this blog is how to relate the calamity of rather dramatic and stupidly annoying events in such a way that's amusing, while protecting the identities of the parties in question. It's beyond the purposes of this blog to simply bitch about this person or that person, and is too adolescent for me to consider.
Also, the dynamics of the dressage world, and the rate at which knowledge tends to unfold itself to me, is too fast-paced to assume that my opinions about people will remain solid from one moment to the next. The trainer who appears to conjure enlightenment will, like a magic trick, reveal themselves to approach dressage from a different theoretical base than I do. And again, and again, and again, I’m left to sort things out on my own.
So, it's impossible for me to commit to writing anything about real-life individuals, save myself and Nic. Doing so would merely present the reader with a litany of caricatures, rather than an involved discussion of Nic's training. I suppose one of the pitfalls of enlightenment is the evolutionary aspect to it; an idea that seems sturdy and immovable as a fortress at the moment is, in fact, disposable and jello-like the next moment, especially for someone in their novitiate, such as myself. Iconoclasm is too much a hallmark of my dressage experience for me to commit to a singular, permanent, opinion.
I suppose the simplest explanation is that the place to which I moved Nic teaches dressage using the same theoretical base that I try to practice, and the change in Nic prevents me from going backwards. The most important moment I felt in the past couple weeks, thanks to the schoolmaster lessons, is the level of connection and rideability that develops, of the horse's own volition, when the rider encourages enough hind end action from the horse. I believe these schoolmaster lessons are the first time in my riding experience that the level of power necessary to produce a truly through horse has been demanded. I've always been encouraged to use the reins, to either supple her, bend her, or slow her down, more with Nic than both she and I have been comfortable with. When she is truly through and pushing from behind, I don't need to use the reins in the same way.
The sun has set, the moon has set, and, yes, even those distant centers of light, the stars, have set. High tide has come and gone, yet I’m still marooned with my thoughts. I can’t do this alone; I need a context to guide me. I suppose it's just time for me to move on. It's not my style to remain adrift in the muddy pretext of pretend, spinning my wheels; I want to learn to train my horse, told how to improve, and be demanded of excellence. If it's not happening in one place, like a game of chess, damn straight I'm going to determine my next move. In the quest for knowledge, if I've hit a dead end, I can either stagnate or move forward, right?
Thursday, April 17, 2008
The Dark Ages of Dressage: April 17, 2008
Tomorrow I will cart Nic yet again to another trainer. Not to move, just for a lesson. I'm tired of dragging the mare from trainer to trainer. I gave up on trainers last December when it became apparent the best advice I'd received since buying her in 2006 was from Walter Zettl. Since then, I've been training by my wits, since my wits otherwise came to an end with professionals. I'm sure if I'd received decent help since the get go that my horse would be further along than she is, but I have yet to come across a program that is anything but counterproductive.
I don't know what it is about America; these united states are the land of opportunity, of dreams, but as far as dressage goes, that mentality has diluted the sport into a gulag of half-baked ideas. Actually, I do know what it is about America. Let me expound upon this.
Oscar Wilde once said "America is the only country that went from barbarism to decadence without civilization in between." Decadence is the unintended result of unprecedented prosperity (remember the Roman Empire?), and whether that old queen is correct or not, one must admit that the level of prosperity in America has driven the average citizen to assume a sense of undoubted self-righteousness, and I'm certainly not excluded. Extreme confidence is as an American virtue as apple pie. The problem with self-righteousness is it leaves little room for self-questioning and analysis, further impeding advancement, and ultimately, prosperity. Rome wasn't built in a day, but it sure as hell was sacked in a day, thanks to a rotten core. The confidence balloon can only grow so big before you either redesign it or it bursts.
In the land where you can be anything you want to be as long as you click your heels together 3 times and whisper "there's no place like home," the barriers to entry into the dressage arena are dismally low. Add into that mixture a general poverty of education about the correct way to train a dressage horse, and you have students like me who can only point to an idea and think "that's not right" but with no light pointing to what IS right. Or, perhaps more importantly, how to create something that is right. We're left, so to speak, understanding that the shadows on the wall are not reality, but with no clue what reality is and where the opening to the damn cave is. And America being America, of course very few trainers will admit to even themselves that they're wrong or misguided, self-righteousness at its essence.
Like Europe during the dark ages, as soon as we try to improve ourselves and raise our standard of education, we get clubbed by the damn barbarians again (in this case, bad training), and are forced to lower our standards to "survival mode," and sort all this crap out ourselves. I would say that moving Nic from a boarding barn to a training barn has raised my training standards to a certain degree; certainly I would not have the same horse today if I had stayed at a boarding barn. But this still isn't enough for me; ignorance is an annoying cross to bear. There is still too much darkness and not enough light.
Ummm....so I guess I'm feeling a little frustrated about having no real helping hand with training my horse. I'm hoping I can come out of this "dark ages" of dressage I've been in. I've started getting some better understanding of contact since starting these schoolmaster lessons, and exactly what it feels like when a horse is through. This understanding has helped to improve Nic with her own throughness. We have a lot more work to do at the canter, but the trot has begun to improve.
I don't know what it is about America; these united states are the land of opportunity, of dreams, but as far as dressage goes, that mentality has diluted the sport into a gulag of half-baked ideas. Actually, I do know what it is about America. Let me expound upon this.
Oscar Wilde once said "America is the only country that went from barbarism to decadence without civilization in between." Decadence is the unintended result of unprecedented prosperity (remember the Roman Empire?), and whether that old queen is correct or not, one must admit that the level of prosperity in America has driven the average citizen to assume a sense of undoubted self-righteousness, and I'm certainly not excluded. Extreme confidence is as an American virtue as apple pie. The problem with self-righteousness is it leaves little room for self-questioning and analysis, further impeding advancement, and ultimately, prosperity. Rome wasn't built in a day, but it sure as hell was sacked in a day, thanks to a rotten core. The confidence balloon can only grow so big before you either redesign it or it bursts.
In the land where you can be anything you want to be as long as you click your heels together 3 times and whisper "there's no place like home," the barriers to entry into the dressage arena are dismally low. Add into that mixture a general poverty of education about the correct way to train a dressage horse, and you have students like me who can only point to an idea and think "that's not right" but with no light pointing to what IS right. Or, perhaps more importantly, how to create something that is right. We're left, so to speak, understanding that the shadows on the wall are not reality, but with no clue what reality is and where the opening to the damn cave is. And America being America, of course very few trainers will admit to even themselves that they're wrong or misguided, self-righteousness at its essence.
Like Europe during the dark ages, as soon as we try to improve ourselves and raise our standard of education, we get clubbed by the damn barbarians again (in this case, bad training), and are forced to lower our standards to "survival mode," and sort all this crap out ourselves. I would say that moving Nic from a boarding barn to a training barn has raised my training standards to a certain degree; certainly I would not have the same horse today if I had stayed at a boarding barn. But this still isn't enough for me; ignorance is an annoying cross to bear. There is still too much darkness and not enough light.
Ummm....so I guess I'm feeling a little frustrated about having no real helping hand with training my horse. I'm hoping I can come out of this "dark ages" of dressage I've been in. I've started getting some better understanding of contact since starting these schoolmaster lessons, and exactly what it feels like when a horse is through. This understanding has helped to improve Nic with her own throughness. We have a lot more work to do at the canter, but the trot has begun to improve.
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