Anna Blake's Blog, page 33

Photo and Poem: No Other

 

You are wise to not let me see,

stoic one. Show not your age,

certainly not a weakness. Be

brown or tan, earth tones that

don’t draw attention, blend

with the herd camouflaged on

the land. Turning your head to

reveal a shock of lightning, a

white star centered above wary

eyes, a swirl of coarser hair that

stands like frost on dark wood.

No other horse just the same.

…

Anna Blake at Infinity Farm

Want more? Join us at The Barn, our online training group with video sharing, audio blogs, live chats with Anna, and so much more. Or go to annablake.com to subscribe for email delivery of this blog, see the Clinic Schedule, or ask a question about the art and science of working with horses.

The post Photo and Poem: No Other appeared first on Anna Blake.

Calming Signals and Color: Do Horses Understand Laughter?

 

Every week new research comes out, some more ethically tabulated than others, about science proving horses are intelligent; an article about horses reading our facial expressions, or responding differently to human emotion by changing their own facial expressions, or a million other things that come as no surprise to equine long-timers. I think chickens are probably capable of telling if we are happy or mad, but still, we get excited because science is lining up behind us, almost against its will, and supporting our quiet, affirmative methods. We used our own compassion to figure out how to train horses and it works. Yay, Science. Yay, Riders Against Bullies.

Do horses understand laughter? Of course. That’s not the problem.

Horses and humans live in a chaotic world and I define anxiety as being alive. Here is one way to think about it: There is peace and there is anxiety. Peace is white and anxiety comes in all kinds of colors because feelings come in all kinds of emotions. Red anxiety isn’t better or worse than green anxiety. We don’t judge good and bad, so much as notice behaviors. It isn’t even that simple; red comes in burgundy and scarlet, tomato and barn red. Each shade is as different as each horse or rider’s perception of a situation. One’s perfect dream is another’s nightmare. What does red mean? Love. Anger or rage. Blood. Describing colors is as complicated as understanding emotions or reading calming signals. Good.

Horses are constantly aware of their environment, their senses each so keen that nothing escapes their attention. An elite sense of smell, acute vision for movement, with all their senses working for their safety. Human body language might as well be on a jumbotron for as subtle as we are comparatively. Horses don’t need to read our minds because everything is literally written all over us in nuance. Horses and humans have autonomic nervous systems. Imagine the parasympathetic (restive or restorative) system like those all-white “heaven” scenes in movies.  In the perfect world, we would all project peace, pearlescent white and safe, but that is an acquired skill. Perhaps not realistic for a prey animal or an over-thinking human for long. Being alive means joy, pain, good, bad, and every other colored thing.

The sympathetic nervous system, where the flight, fight, or freeze instinct resides, is all rainbow colors. Heart-pounding blue anxiety might be wild dogs or a flapping tarp. They might rear and bite in a fight for chartreuse dominance or a play-fight for fun. On those days when there is a fifty-degree change in temperature, barometric changes might cause a sick-orange colic, although the vet will tell you there is no science behind that old wives’ tale. Unless he’s already out on other colic calls.

One of the first things we learn is horses read our fear, but truly, they read a range of anxiety in us, both positive and negative, and probably not all that specific. Can they tell if we are mad at them or our boss, if we are impatient with them or the clock, if we are listening to them or if we’re stalking them in a creepy coyote way? All shades of red, if that makes sense, but not necessarily as easy to understand as we wish. Meaning we may love a horse profoundly, but how does that red-hot passion feel to a horse coming from a predator? Horses might prefer us to tone it down to a sun-bleached red so they can breathe.

What color is a laugh? Could it be a rosy-pink or pale lavender? Not so fast, it’s predators who laugh. Not horses; they have no close equivalent.

It’s a scientific fact: The act of laughing increases circulation and blood oxygenation which in turn relaxes muscles, relieves stress, and stimulates endorphins producing happiness. Humor and laughter are believed to facilitate learning. Not that horses care much for science but our best horsemanship will happen when we are laughing sunny-yellow.

Now think about being tickled. It’s someone you like, but they grab you and hold tight. Fingers push hard into your armpits as you clamp your arms tight. Do you enjoy it? Most of us go dark and tense at the thought. We hate being tickled, but we choke out laughter. We drown in a wave of anxiety, give conflicting cues, and are left with an emotional mark. What color is that? When is laughter not happy? Are tears always sad?

Here’s where calming signals become a path to understanding for humans and horses. Frequently, a calming signal is displayed when a horse has a mental conflict about how to proceed. Maybe he’s curious about an obstacle you are showing him, but he doesn’t want to be away from the herd. He just needs a moment to think. Maybe he has been corrected so much in the past that he doesn’t trust humans now; he doesn’t have the confidence to try. He’ll give a calming signal to remind us that he’s no threat. If we slow and breathe right about then, cooling the anxiety like a spring shower, he has a chance to choose a better answer.

On our side, we want to let the horse make a choice to work with us, but we are impatient, and we doubt him. So, we escalate the cue before we know it and the horse feels threatened, hurried. Maybe he was thinking and just about to try, but interrupted, he feels punished or shut down. If we slow down and breathe, we will seem less predatory. In affirmative training, we are always trying to prove to horses that we are a paler color than they expect us to be. That we are safe, not aggressive.

I was an artist in my first career, playing with colors at work and riding horses the rest of the time. By the time I got around to turning pro, it was because training horses was the most creative thing I could imagine. A horse and rider are a work of art and seeing colors was a natural way to understand it. But how to let work feel like the light emerald color of spring grass while training and avoid the dark navy-blue fear and intense purple fighting colors?

Science says horses can’t learn when afraid; dark anxiety pushes them into their sympathetic nervous system. Affirmative training says let their curiosity take a step over the line of their parasympathetic system, challenge them with pastel colors. Let the horse think about it. Then anxiety fades to white and it’s as if his safe area has grown. The other word for that is confidence.

Affirmative training means that we just say yes, with amber warmth, knowing that horses will choose a clear turquoise sky over dark storm clouds; safety over warfare. Start with yourself. Do your colors ring true? Your anxieties run clean? It isn’t fair to expect more from your horse than you can maintain in yourself. You might need to tidy up for him. Especially those reds.

Finally, don’t underestimate horses. There’s a silly game I’ve played with them forever; I give him a hard squinty eye when he’s running in the arena, and then howl and jump suddenly. I pretend to scare him so he can pretend to be afraid and flag his tail at a full gallop, maybe a buck and kick out, followed by a fire-breathing snort. We both fall in love with him being a horse all over again. Strength, beauty, and intellect. Gold, ruby, and silver.  Then, he trots over, head low for his halter, and we shuffle back to the barn, savoring our wildness from a place of transparent peace.

…

Anna Blake at Infinity Farm

Want more? Join us at The Barn, our online training group with video sharing, audio blogs, live chats with Anna, and so much more. Or go to annablake.com to subscribe for email delivery of this blog, see the Clinic Schedule, or ask a question about the art and science of working with horses.

The post Calming Signals and Color: Do Horses Understand Laughter? appeared first on Anna Blake.

Photo & Poem: You Know the Way

 

The rhythm of hooves over

even soft ground, we’ve lost

time out together rocked

safe in the saddle like breeze

through the trees, toward a

bottom-heavy sun falling hard

to the west. We’ve wandered

too far, dirt-worn and words gone,

but still warmed in his stride.

Just when I pause, not sure of

the way, his cadence builds with

a certainty both bold and true.

The rhythm of hooves, over

even soft ground, each footfall

pulling steady. Take me home,

good horse, you know the way.

…

Anna Blake at Infinity Farm

Want more? Join us at The Barn, our online training group with video sharing, audio blogs, live chats with Anna, and so much more. Or go to annablake.com to subscribe for email delivery of this blog, see the Clinic Schedule, or ask a question about the art and science of working with horses.

 

The post Photo & Poem: You Know the Way appeared first on Anna Blake.

Do Horses Fear Death?

 

It’s been an ordinary year. Animals died here. What could be more normal? Infinity Farm has an extended herd and none of us are youngsters anymore. Over the months, we said goodbye to a boney old Tabby Cat, an ancient foster horse, a young neurologic donkey foster, and a beautiful mare. Aren’t all mares beautiful though? Frigid winter temperatures hit earlier than usual this year and I was glad they missed it.

Do I sound glib? As an equine professional who’s always worked with rescue organizations, who has helped clients on hard days, and has always had a barn full of my own animals, death is part of my life. Or maybe the price to be paid for living my dream. Still, every time I write about death, I lose a friend. They don’t literally die; it isn’t voodoo. They just let me know I trivialize death, that I’m shallow for not being so destroyed that I swear off animals; that they love animals so much more than I do, that losing them is not survivable. Each time. As if it was a pain competition.

I’ve also had a dear friend accuse me of glamorizing the loss of a horse in a world where her husband was taken at a young age. She’s right; it’s hard to equate animals to people. I do know that when my parents both passed in my early forties, I was darkly comforted to have had loss before that. I had practice; animals whose lives were shorter than mine. Pets became my training-wheels for loss. At a young age when the world was too big and cruel to understand, I could mourn the loss of a pet and use those feelings to understand a small corner of the devastating effect of world issues like natural disasters and war. And perhaps be more compassionate toward other people’s losses. More importantly, I knew the value of each day loving those I shared my life with.

If death is the most natural thing, then the fear of death is a close second. Some of us fear the unknown, but all of us fear life without those we love, regardless of their species. We ponder passing from this life philosophically in broad daylight or keep it hidden in a secret place, but the downside is our animals are perfectly capable of feeling the depth of our anxiety that they can’t name.

Do horses fear death? Of course, and not philosophically. Horses gotta be horses. They fear literal death every moment. That’s what it means to be a horse, who’s best way of saving himself is to run. Not to think of a solution, just run. He’s ruled by his flight response, an involuntary reaction to survive. His primary concern is his safety. Losing control of the ground, his ability to stand and escape, is his worst fear. What does that mean to an old horse when he can’t run? Does he ponder the Rainbow Bridge? Losing his herd? I want to understand. I do know they mourn as we do, they have a profound memory, but horses are no fun to debate end-of-life options with, yours or theirs.

I recently had a conversation with a vet who told me about a horse she had recently euthanized. He was a draft horse with purple gums, she said he had such a will to live. I wanted to have the death talk with a scientist. The problem with giving horses romantic notions about death is that we already project so much of our own fear on them. I asked her if it was that involuntary will to survive, to hold the ground and not quit. It’s a lesson I’ve learned from rescue horses left to fend for themselves. Trying to stay standing is a primal instinct for a flight animal, in the same way that we can’t kill ourselves by holding our breath. We both intrinsically must fight to survive.

When we take horses out of the wild and pretend they’re domesticated, we become their only predators. It’s a grim job but we want to think they will tell us when it’s time to die. As if we do that for other humans, but okay. The oldest, weakest horse will always act tougher than they are. We know that they hide their pain. We know horses are stoic. We know all this, but we still think they will somehow tell us, their special human predator, when they can’t hold their ground.

Sorry. I just don’t believe it. I think by the time we finally think they might be telling us it’s time, what we are actually seeing could be organs shutting down. That’s what it means to be a stoic flight animal. It is an instinct stronger than any other and very hard for a loving human to even want to try to read.

At the same time, our intellectual, heartfelt fear of losing them kicks in full force and the internal fight turns hot. Fear of the unknown: Life without them. We want to fight, even knowing that all stories end the same way eventually. When looking away is preferable, but we pull our eyes back to the one we love. We fight death when that isn’t even the enemy.

It can feel like the world is a bottomless pit of grief after losing a loved one. It’s natural to hold a grudge about what is lost but we need to be careful where we hang the blame, careful that death doesn’t get a bad reputation. That loss doesn’t eclipse the living.

The art is learning to let go, to forgive them for dying and focus on love. To let the tears flow and give ourselves the credit we deserve for surviving. To learn to appreciate our own courage to spread our arms wide and welcome life because we have a choice about that. And then make use that left-over love with an old one-eyed rescue dog or a broken-down hay-burner. Can we stare death in the face, pull our scarred and half-lame bodies to full height and say, “Mares are forever beautiful and you will not have me one day early. Not while I have more love left in this bruised, stretched-out heart.”

Most of us think horses are teachers, but it’s left to us to sort out what dysfunction is ours and what is theirs. Here’s a hint. It’s all ours. Horses teach us so much about ourselves and yet remain a mystery to us. We need them so much more than they need us. What if we are just a hobby of theirs, a few hours a week. Because I think we might be. Horses gotta be horses.

With gratitude to the animals who have shared their lives and deaths with me…

A book editor told me to delete a chapter about a duck in my memoir, Stable Relation, because no one cares about ducks? Instead, I belligerently re-wrote the chapter about ten times, trying to find a way to explain what mattered about my silly old drake. A very dear man I knew died that same year. In the wild run of the world, with all its war and disease and poverty, his life didn’t matter much more than a duck’s. But his loved ones missed him as if the sun went dark.

…

Anna Blake at Infinity Farm

Want more? Join us at The Barn, our online training group with video sharing, audio blogs, live chats with Anna, and so much more. Or go to annablake.com to subscribe for email delivery of this blog, see the Clinic Schedule, or ask a question about the art and science of working with horses.

 

 

The post Do Horses Fear Death? appeared first on Anna Blake.

Photo & Poem: Tea

 

Stomping in the back porch to knock

the dirt off my boots, there’s too

much wind to work outside on this

gray day, clouds hurrying in from

the north. I make tea thinking you

might be having some about now.

Mine has little flavor and the color

is wrong. Picking up a book, I

wonder what you’re reading. Are

you in your side garden amid those

pink flowering shrubs the color of

worn chenille, walls over-grown

with wild English ivy and honest little

pansies. You’re sitting up straight

on a small cast iron chair, the cats

stretched long on sun-warmed patio

stones, flexing their claws, guarding you

with pretended indifference. Peering

at me through half-closed eyes, not

willing to share you, even in a memory.

…

Anna Blake at Infinity Farm

Want more? Join us at The Barn, our online training group with video sharing, audio blogs, live chats with Anna, and so much more. Or go to annablake.com to subscribe for email delivery of this blog, see the Clinic Schedule, or ask a question.

Anna’s latest book, Going Steady: More Relationship Advice from Your Horse, is now available everywhere.

The post Photo & Poem: Tea appeared first on Anna Blake.

Free Advice: Everybody’s a Trainer

“What I see astounds me. It’s difficult to be around other riders who constantly give advice I didn’t ask for.”

“I have waited on my horse on the trail when things got scary only to have friends tell me I was causing more problems. I will continue doing what is best for my horse. Why is it so hard for humans to stop pushing and start listening?”

“The yard is really getting me down at present. All the drama, all the neediness. All I want is to be left alone do my own thing. They’re not my friends, they don’t know me, they don’t ‘get’ me. There must be a way of negotiating an acceptable path other than telling everyone to eff off? A good topic for a blog!”

Years ago, I had a client who boarded his horse tell me, in the most incredulous tone, that riders felt absolutely fine telling him everything he was doing wrong with his horse. I nodded. New to boarding, he was amazed that people were so comfortable correcting him; it didn’t happen in other areas of his life. With social media, now even people who keep their horses at home can be judged and criticized by strangers sitting on sofas around the world. Maybe you innocently post a photo and get naysayers critical of everything you’re doing. If you literally ask for an opinion, brace yourself.

The horse world is very opinionated. Some of it is tribalism; we are hooked on a method of training or a riding discipline that we think is the best. We have a hero who won at shows or dresses like a cowboy or speaks in a foreign accent and it means we belong or know more if we parrot that trainer. It would be great if there was some actual understanding behind the technique that made sense to horses, but usually, the railbird telling you how to ride just wants you to be harsher. A stronger cue, a louder training aid, or some way to gimmick the horse into different behavior. Sometimes they offer to climb on and make a few corrections, and the horse you get back is different all right. Frightening a horse isn’t the same as training.

What is our fascination with violence and domination? We act like we hate horses. Sure, we are born predators, but does that mean we have to be monsters? Oh, that’s right. Monstrous behavior has been normalized in every area of our culture. We’ve been doing it for so long, it’s been accepted in the weave of our daily experience, so we tell each other to be violent with animals as conversationally as we might remark on the weather.

Isn’t that what Darwin meant when he said only the fittest survive? We all seem to have a voice in the dark recesses of our brains that tells us to swagger with bravado, to be the wolf, stallion, dominator you don’t want to meet in a dark alley. You’d think we were still rubbing sticks together. Or in our case, hitting horses with sticks. At the same time, we all know a horse who’s been damaged by this martial approach to training. Most of us probably own one. We get defensive when we get lectured about what to do with our horses. No one likes to be corrected, but it’s more than that. Horse people all think they’re right. We are all overzealous about our training methods. I certainly am.

On top of that, we still want a simple answer and a quick resolution for a training issue as old as your horse. The problem is that what works on your older Quarter Horse gelding doesn’t necessarily work on a young Arabian mare. But then, what works on your older Quarter Horse gelding may not work on another one just like him, either. And by the way, that wasn’t exactly what Darwin said.

“It is not the strongest of the species that survives, nor the most intelligent, but the one more responsive to change.” Charles Darwin, 1809

The questions still hang in the air, even without being asked. “Why does my horse toss his head?” “Why won’t my horse go in the trailer?” “Why isn’t my new horse like my old horse?” 

Welcome to Riders Against Bullies; Darwin was on our side all along. It isn’t our first meeting but it’s time we spoke up in defense of horses. Instead of cringing at old school brutality, put a smile on your face. Show your teeth. Women who smile in adversarial situations make people uncomfortable and that’s a start. The first response should never be trying to control, but rather trying to understand by looking, listening, and really paying attention to the horse. Then, instead of railing against old, dark voices, find your own. If the horse is not acting normally, ask more relevant questions. 

Don’t talk training techniques unless you’re certain the horse isn’t in pain. Is the horse adjusting from a move? It would be shocking if he didn’t have gastric issues. In an hour-long ride, two liters of stomach acid formed in his stomach. Is the horse on free-choice hay now? If he has come from a dry area to moist ground, do his feet hurt? Does he need a farrier?  You say he’s fifteen years old?  Then, of course, he has arthritis and perhaps old pain from injuries in the past. Have you had a vet check him recently? What do you know about his living environment? Is he kept alone? These are all bigger questions that must come before training advice.

Does your saddle fit this horse? No guessing, have it checked by a professional. You’d need to know where it put your balance. Does your bit inflict pain? Don’t go along with the sales pitch on the bit, ask this horse. Then let your horse pick a more gentle bit. And finally, we have no idea what kind of rider you are. Have you had any riding instruction? Would you consider working with a trainer? And there are still more questions to ask before we can blame the horse. Encourage that.

Giving advice (or asking for it) when the full picture isn’t there, is not fair to the horse. Sure, affirmative training is good, but if the horse isn’t sound, no training technique will help. The priority must be the horse. Never substitute another’s eyes for your own and know that the full picture is impossible to know from an online question. It would be irresponsible to give training advice on a horse you’ve never seen. Let ethical behaviors begin with you.

At your barn, go for the scary smile and ignore the railbirds. The best thing that can happen to bad advice is that it becomes spoken-over, irrelevant, and forgotten. Negativity doesn’t deserve to be repeated in a louder voice. Instead, spend your time echoing something worth hearing. Be part of a move toward understanding rather than correcting. Advocate for horses.

…

Anna Blake at Infinity Farm

Want more? Join us at The Barn, our online training group with video sharing, audio blogs, live chats with Anna, and so much more. Or go to annablake.com to subscribe for email delivery of this blog, see the Clinic Schedule, or ask a question.

Working with riders of any discipline and horses of any breed, Anna believes affirmative dressage training principals build a relaxed & forward foundation that crosses over all riding disciplines in the same way that the understanding Calming Signals benefits all equine communication.

The post Free Advice: Everybody’s a Trainer appeared first on Anna Blake.

Photo & Poem: Braced

 

Black eyes sunk deep in her skull,

certain she knows what will come next.

The trail of scars on her legs read like

an ancient cave painting of where she’s

been and what has followed her here,

her ribs braced against inescapable

shadows, her breath shallow in fear

she might become visible. With no

memory of a better place, it’s not safe,

even a sip of water from a predator, so

I’ll let her rest in a vacuum of cooling

silence, trusting peace to draw her close.

…

Anna Blake at Infinity Farm

Want more? Join us at The Barn, our online training group with video sharing, audio blogs, live chats with Anna, and so much more. Or go to annablake.com to subscribe for email delivery of this blog, see the Clinic Schedule, or ask a question.

Anna’s latest book, Going Steady: More Relationship Advice from Your Horse, is now available everywhere.

The post Photo & Poem: Braced appeared first on Anna Blake.

What is an Ethical Ride?

 

We are great horse owners. We love our horses. Some of us compete and some stroll around the pasture, but we’ll own these horses all their days and we want only the best for them.

Sadly, we aren’t all great riders. Most of us could improve our hands and do better with our legs. Lucky for us that horses are stoic, but eventually even good horses begin to unravel, or we get lost in doubt. Then one day it occurs to you that your horse just saved your life and maybe more than you really deserve. It’s humbling. The best reason to improve riding skills is that a horse showed us grace and we know what the alternative could have been. We owe a debt and take responsibility to be better riders for our horses.

Training gets complicated fast. Where horses are concerned less is more. Drilling a movement will sour a horse’s try. Working in short sessions is better and when he does just what you want, it might be good to jump down and be done. You understand equine brain science enough to know that like you, he can’t learn if he’s afraid. Breathe. Sometimes you’re confused and then you both lose your confidence. Breathe. Nothing will set things right faster. It isn’t about riding for hours, it’s about quality and responsiveness. Affirming what he does well and then letting him think it over himself. By now, it’s probably also occurred to you that you don’t seem to learn as fast as a horse.

Groundwork is wonderful, but things change quickly on top of a thousand-pound flight animal. You find you have the same panic mode that horses do. That your hands communicate in semaphore without you knowing it. And that the ache in your legs, when you finally notice it, is because you’ve had a death grip on his ribcage. Lessons are a great idea. A good trainer is worth the money, but money can’t buy skill. A heightened focus of our own bodies will give us more awareness, but we need more time in the saddle to learn. Great, one more contradiction: We need more of the thing that our horses need less of.

Negotiate a truce. The agreement should be that we won’t dawdle. We’ll focus and apply ourselves to active learning. In exchange, our horses will be as patient as they can be, probably longer than they should. Because that’s who horses are. This negotiation begins fresh in every ride.

Start with a breath. Take the first walk he gives you and say thank you. If your horse tosses his head, goes hollow, or gets cranky, dismount. He is in pain. The only way he can tell you is with his body, don’t mistake it for a training issue. If you are certain (assuming that’s even possible) that he isn’t in pain, then what is he saying? If he says you have lousy hands, that isn’t open to negotiation. Use a neck ring every ride. Control of hands takes a long time to learn, but you may not drill it. He needs twenty minutes to warm up before you think about the reins or any corrections. Respect the fact that his mouth is fragile. Contact must be earned a stride at a time, not taken hostage and then fought over. Punishment, or anything that feels like it to a horse, will cause damage that could take forever to erase. Just don’t start.

Instead, negotiate a relaxed and forward stride with your seat. Let the movement of your horse release your hips, and glide along. Sometimes ask for a change in stride, longer or shorter, with just your sit bones. Be ready to feel it immediately and reward him. Now you’re dancing. Your horse is listening to your light cues. You are the leader, that means it’s your job to let your partner shine. You can ride with the bottom half of your body longer if you keep your hands out of the conversation. You can dance your way through walk-trot transitions and do some cantering. Later, when you have more fluid forward movement than you know what to do with, you may pick up contact for a few strides but if his rhythm is impacted by your hands, drop the reins. Go forward for a few moments and try again but really, then back to the neck ring because hands may never be louder than seat and legs.

Besides, if you can’t trust him on the neck ring, why should he trust you with a bit? You must offer a tidbit of trust first. Try to distract your brain by feeling your sit bones, counting your breath. There you are, connection comes through the seat. Love your seat because now you’re back dancing.

Relationship is crucial. The horse’s feelings impact everything he does, so listen to the horse’s calming signals instead of silly training gadgets and techniques. Have a conversation of negotiated feelings, with you always being the positive cheerful one because the horse must be on guard always, true to his nature. It takes energy to stay alert and positive, doesn’t it? Hold a keen awareness of your body. Only when you have control of your own body can you consider asking more of a horse.

In Dressage we understand that we are students of the art of riding forever, says this woman who could have paid for a college degree with what she spent on riding lessons and clinics. Don’t expect to be perfect. If you are an affirmative trainer, that starts with you. Be kind to yourself because you deserve it and your horse can feel it. It takes time to learn, but more importantly, it takes patience to build trust.

Still want more time in the saddle? Ride every horse you can, not just yours. Be in awe of their fragility. Ask them for their help and thank them by paying close attention.

How to get your horse to want to be ridden longer? Spend soft time at the mounting block. Softness comes from breathing. Mount consciously. Balance yourself evenly, sit down lightly. Exhale and inhale. Then stretch your legs, soften your knees. Don’t just think about it. Feel it happen. Make yourself comfortable for him to carry. And the split second that you know it’s time, dismount immediately. Don’t use him like a sofa. Jump down and step back. Give him the last word. If he yawns, licks and chews, or gives other calming signals, take note. Your horse will have more patience for you as you become less of a threat to him.

How long you can ride depends on how long you can maintain focus on your own physical awareness. How long you can quiet your mind and let your seat melt to lightness, leading a dance toward relaxation with warmth and energy. Isn’t that what oneness would feel like? Time in the saddle will go slower and feel longer, not because you have spent untold hours pounding along, but because you have become more horse-like by using each of your senses to be more aware of your body, more aware of every ounce of weight in your hands and legs. Transcend boundaries with such sensitivity that you feel his breath in your lungs.

…

Anna Blake at Infinity Farm

Want more? Join us at The Barn, our online training group with video sharing, audio blogs, live chats with Anna, and so much more. Or go to annablake.com to subscribe for email delivery of this blog, see the Clinic Schedule, or ask a question about the art and science of working with horses.

 

The post What is an Ethical Ride? appeared first on Anna Blake.

Photo & Poem: Goodnight

 

Leaning on the gate. Checking

water tanks at dusk, one last

glance at the herd before heading

in. I feel his eyes soft on me,

from the far side of the pen, his

muzzle deep in hay. Awe, my

involuntary response to his beauty.

Under my breath, I barely murmur

the tall gray’s name aloud but still

it fills the sky, making the sunset

smolder to a dusty ember and

just as infinity comes to rest

in this suspended moment, the

gelding lifts his head to consider me,

needing no enticement bigger than

a whispered word he knows is his.

…

Anna Blake at Infinity Farm

Want more? Join us at The Barn, our online training group with video sharing, audio blogs, live chats with Anna, and so much more. Or go to annablake.com to subscribe for email delivery of this blog, see the Clinic Schedule, or ask a question.

Anna’s latest book, Going Steady: More Relationship Advice from Your Horse, is now available everywhere.

The post Photo & Poem: Goodnight appeared first on Anna Blake.

The Advantage of Less Time

It’s the second big freeze here on the farm and it isn’t even Halloween. Much too early for such polar cold. No autumn colors. The leaves froze to a green-black and high winds stripped the trees in a day. No color at all on this flat windy prairie. The horses don’t care. They have what matters: Free-choice hay, room to roam, and good equine company. They are hairy and muddy and frisky, and the horses definitely aren’t whining about the upcoming time change. They don’t lose an hour because they don’t believe in hours.

Meanwhile, you’re layered and zipped, your toes are cold, and there are holes in last year’s gloves. After work there’s less light, weekend days are shorter, and whatever tolerance to frigid temperatures you gained last winter has been lost. Now an easy breeze gives you an ice cream headache and you can’t remember the name for that lack of light malady, but you think you probably have it. The final insult is losing that crucial hour.

For all we have in common with horses, this must be the biggest disconnect. We worship a thing they don’t acknowledge. We get frantic about a situation that doesn’t exist for them. We spend the best riding hours at work, where we get paid by the hour, then there’s the commute, hours lost to traffic. Then we need to ride for an hour, but we are in a rush. Grooming takes longer and so does cooling out with all that hair. It feels like you’re late before you even start.

How did an hour become the measure? Hours can’t be added to the day, but somehow light can subtract hours? If your horse cared where you went all day, he’d have no sympathy. He thinks you’ll come home with hay and he’s right. Now you’re making up angry ranting lyrics to Christmas carols and calculating how many hours of work go into buying new snow tires.

Finally, you arrive at the driveway to the barn. The car thermometer tells you just how far the temps have dropped but there is an apricot hue over the pasture and the horses are running. Snow sprays as hooves churn through drifts, every tail is flagged and their necks are arched like fairy tale steeds, manes flying silver and gold. Even the old gelding is running. The herd sees you and takes another lap, just for the sheer joy of feeling the glory of being what they are. And in each galloping stride, your breath catches in your throat and time stands still.

Silly to think that we could be late for a timeless love.

What good comes from fighting time? All your horse knows is that you’re anxious and he should be wary. When did any of us think that quantity was better than quality? Rather than trying to squeeze horses into hour time slots, maybe we could gain something from evolving ourselves to horse time. Rather than feeling guilty we don’t ride longer and more often, we could forgive time and ourselves. We could turn rushed moments into precious memories. These are the good old days right now.

I’m a trainer. I live in the gap between horses and humans. I tell the time in liters of stomach acid, two liters an hour; let him eat. In lessons that last an hour, I watch the big picture, where the two of you started and where you’re wanting to go, and then I make suggestions. I am frugal and want you to get your money’s worth. I’m paid by the hour, meaningless to a horse. I’ve taught myself to say, “You don’t buy an hour of my time, you buy a positive change in your horse.” In a perfect moment, I can see your horse try to get it right, become confident he’s understanding it, and then beam with success. I can see you want more, enthusiastic and thrilled, but not certain you can do it again. I check my worthless watch, buying time to say what I dread as much as you. “Jump down, you’re done.” We step away and give him the last word. He releases, gives calming signals, maybe has a serotonin moment if we’re lucky. I do it for your horse, but I feel guilty for cheating you out of saddle time. I stay late and talk theory with you to try to make up for your horse’s brilliance cutting the ride short. Because he comes first, and you’ll get a better horse from less time.

Less primping and fussing. Less drilling and nagging. Less standing around trying to think of what to do. Less conflict. Less self-criticism.

More awareness in the moment. More understanding of the horse’s perceptions. More trust than fear. More breathing time to a stop. More gratitude.

Rather than being a moody repetitive stress-pot, you could prove to your horse that you’re not that kind of person. You could be interesting and mysterious:

Halter him and take him for a roll in the arena sand. Put him back out with his friends.
Bring out a pile of hay and get out your favorite rubber curry combs. Curry until your shoulders are soft and his skin is warm.
When your horse walks to the mounting block and quietly stands, you lead him back to the barn sometimes.
You gently mount and walk five steps, dismount, and go for a graze. Later climb on again for 10 minutes, two good rides on one day.
Crank up the music. Let your horse pick the playlist. Ride like nobody’s watching.
Have a normal ride, meaning a systematic, energetic twenty-minute warm-up on a neckring. Leave his face alone.
Remember that you can’t focus on a thought for long and are more easily distracted than a horse. Let that be okay.
Feel him soften, stride up, and feel strong. Then feel good about yourself. You’ve won.
Be unpredictable; laugh out loud. Ride with passion. Train complicated things for fun.
Ride with such sweet forward ground-covering movement that contact feels good to your horse.
Always get off before you want to. Always stop before your horse has had enough.
Thank him profoundly for his generous lesson because he has even less time than you do.
Smile and wave to the railbirds after you put your horse up. Forgive yourself again, in plain sight.

Do you hear voices asking if you’ve gone soft? I hope you have. Do the voices accuse you of training like a girl? Don’t take the bait. Train this way because of a knowledge of equine brain science and biomechanics. Train this way because it feels good to your horse. Train this way because there isn’t enough time in a whole lifetime, so be glad time makes you focus on quality. Always want more but stop too soon. Stay hungry.

…

Anna Blake at Infinity Farm

Want more? Join us at The Barn, our online training group with video sharing, audio blogs, live chats with Anna, and so much more. Or go to annablake.com to subscribe for email delivery of this blog, see the Clinic Schedule, or ask a question about the art and science of working with horses.

Working with riders of any discipline and horses of any breed, Anna believes affirmative dressage training principals build a relaxed & forward foundation that crosses over all riding disciplines in the same way that the understanding Calming Signals benefits all equine communication.

The post The Advantage of Less Time appeared first on Anna Blake.