Like other sports, the art of dressage riding involves a great amount of training
for body and mind. This includes hours, month and years of ovals, circles and
figure eights, with and without stirrups, working with injuries (of the rider
and the horse), highs and lows, ups and downs. But, because I am also working
with the mind and body of another sentient being, this kind of riding practice
becomes much more than the sum of its parts.
When I came upon Chögyam Trungpa's teachings on this subject, I was thrilled
to learn that something I enjoyed so much had the lineage stamp of approval,
in fact, came highly recommended. In trying to write about my own riding experiences,
I quickly realized that I could hardly begin to describe what being close to
or on top of a horse meant as eloquently as he could.
The quotations I have chosen are from The Magyal Pomra Encampment Transcripts:
1979-1982. These talks were given by the Makkyi Rapjam and include comments
by Lady Diana Mukpo. The Makkyi Rapjam (Chögyam Trungpa, Rinpoche) learned
about horses and horsemanship in Tibet and continued to ride throughout his
lifetime. His wife, Lady Diana Mukpo, trained in dressage at the Spanish Riding
School in Vienna and now teaches dressage in Providence, R.I.
A lot of you who are here have never smelled a horse, never actually
experienced a horse. It if very important for you to relate with even the metaphorical
exertion which is the horse. You have to smell the horses, feel them, and examine
their chewing, their tails, their ears, the way they smell, their breath....
Actually horseness is very much related to the warrior principle altogether,
which is very important. (1979, Talk 3)
I love the smell of horse. When I walk into the stable, the smell immediately
overwhelms my senses. One step inside the door and I have left the old moment
and walked into a new one, into a new realm. There is the sweet smell of urine,
the sweetness of hay, the ripening odour of manure, leather and oil, and the
solid sense of sweat and hair and animal energy. The earthiness of this realm
is all-pervading and seductive.
When I enter the stables, I have to leave my own preoccupations at the door.
These animals are my teachers and they insist that I be present with them. Otherwise
the feedback here is immediate. A kick in the leg or 1,000 pounds coming down
hard on my foot brings me back fast. Standing next to a 16 hands tall thoroughbred,
I do not feel like the superior species.
Moh, for example, is not trying to be something he is not, while I am TRYING
to be a rider. He is eager and willing to work with me. He loves the attention
and he loves his carrots. Moh lives with 22 animal friends in two long rows
of stalls, completely dependent on his human caretakers, yet he maintains his
pride of horseness. When I ride on his back, I can sense this pride, and, if
I am able to let go of my own thinking, he allows me to share it with him.
The basic point is that riding a horse is an extremely valid situation.
Even in the sutras, if we might quote them, the horse is often referred to as
exertion or virya. Exertion is always like riding a horse. Exertion is never
regarded as just wearing oneself out, but exertion is regarded as riding on
the energy that exists. (1979, Talk 3)
Riding is a sport that does not dawn overnight. One has to practice and practice
and then practice more. It complements meditation. In both, one has to practice
without a goal. Having a goal takes me out of the present moment, and this is
especially true for riding. If I think too hard or become too self-critical,
angry or impatient with myself, it not only shows up in my body, but it manifests
in the horse as well. When I am not carrying my head and shoulders correctly,
my horse's head and shoulders collapse. When I am stiff or rigid in the saddle,
so is he underneath me.
My horse's gait mirrors my mind. When my mind and body are working in harmony,
this synchronicity immediately manifests in the horse's gait. The act of riding
then, feels effortless. At that point, both of us are riding the energy as one.
WE are windhorse.
The only way I can speak about horsemanship is through my own experience.
I think it firstly involves some kind of inspiration which comes after one has
made the initial contact. Through inspiration, one develops discipline, and in
working with the element of the horse, one has to be completely on the spot an
done has to be able to tune into the horse's energy. When one actually learns
to take one's seat on a horse and to control the energy, one has to be both completely
flexible as well as rigid. One has to be rigid in the sense of holding one's seat,
but in order to keep that rigidity one has to be flexible.
I think that is the basic element of horsemanship. One maintains stability
in working with the mind of the horse, as well as in working with one's own
mind. One's own stability comes through being flexible. I suppose one could
broaden that concept into one's own life. (Lady Diana Mukpo, 1980, Talk
1)
When I began to ride, I thought
"having a good seat" meant sitting tall in the saddle, looking good. Now I realize
that I rode for years without even being aware of my "seat". Seat is not to
be confused with sitting. Having a good "seat" involves one's whole being, mind
and body. What happens first is that one realizes how fragmented that whole
being really is. If I think about my legs, I forget I have hands. When I concentrate
on the reins, I tense my shoulders. "Having a good seat" on a horse involves
balance, weight changes, lengthening head, neck, spine and legs. It means riding
through fear, not letting the fear stiffen one's body or one's resolve. Fear
arises when the horse stumbles, when he bucks at the pressure of the legs, when
another horse comes too close and his ears flatten on his head. When fear overwhelms
me, having a good seat literally becomes impossible.
Riding is about getting out of one's own way, and getting out of the horse's
way as well. When I am riding in harmony with my horse, the energy is able to
flow freely. In those few fleeting moments when I am able to be present with
this, I can handle whatever obstacle might come our way.
This understanding actually goes back to the old technique of riding
a horse. When you have a rider and you have a horse, then you begin to realize
how to hold your seat, how to hold yourself on your saddle. If you have a bad
seat, you can't connect heaven and earth. If you have a good one, then you can
actually connect heaven and earth together. You are fine, your horse is fine.
You have excellent gait, excellent control, and then you can hold your reins
or handle naturally whatever comes up in the situation. (1980, Talk 2).
Deborah Kaetz, shown above with Moh (short for Mahogany), is a social worker in
private practice who has been riding for five years and studying dressage for
the last two years. She lives in Halifax, Nova Scotia, Canada, and may be reached
at 
Dressage