“‘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?
