The horses are where I practice. They are my yoga, my sitting.
I love them for their clarity, their honesty, their generosity. I discover – again and again – what is elemental and essential through the horses. It is something I want to share.
I wonder though, if because my blog is called Horse Dancing, people who don’t know or care about horses dismiss it automatically. Or does horse yoga resonate in a wider way?
Tell me what you think? What would you like to see more of?
One last word about timing and feeling when to move.
I am told by Pam White that John Cage would walk in a circle upon arriving at his studio until he felt he had actually arrived. He was also the person who said, “I am trying to be unfamiliar with what I am doing.”
My take away from all of this is that feeling when to move takes tremendous presence and leads to the unexpected.
How are you practicing being unfamiliar with what you are doing?
Many of your responded to yesterday’s post about waiting and readiness. Here are some more thoughts. And some horse wisdom.
I haven’t seen Nelson for a couple weeks because of a bad cold. Thursday was uncommonly warm – balmy even – for November in New York, so we were relaxed together, basking. I could feel that he was happy to see me.
He did not want me to approach him with a rope or halter, but there was something different about his spook today. It felt like he was having me on, as if he were saying, “Look! Do you remember what a big stallion I really am? Do you remember this?” as he arched his neck and showed me all that power. But there was something of the showman, a performance in it. He wasn’t really scared, just playing, extending the game and our time together.
A couple months ago, when Nelson would earnestly spook, I discovered an attunement. I intentionally synced my steps with him. In a quiet, settled way, I moved with him, step for step. Almost immediately, he joined the dance, and within moments we could stop, move, and turn together. I wasn’t asking for anything, or pushing him. Just saying, let’s do this instead. That dance dissolved the fear.
The other part of this story is that when I want to put the hater on Nelson, I don’t go directly there. Each step has its own timing, its own right moment: pick up the rope, approach him, let him touch it, touch him with it, put the rope over his back, move to his “dark side” and then finally, put the halter on. Until he can stand calm and quiet, I keep breaking things down, asking a smaller question, giving him time to answer. I am not in a hurry.
That is the part about waiting for the right moment. The moment that has a “yes” or a “now.” That requires asking the question and then waiting to feel the response. Sometimes it is instantaneous. Other times, there is a longer wait. Nelson has taught me this more clearly than anyone. So have my daughters.
Are you listening?
I heard this in the car yesterday. There are certain pieces of music that are irresistible – I have to move. This is one of them (along with almost anything done by Playing for Change).
Besides enjoying the lucious layers of sound, as you watch, I have two things you could try:
Tell me about it. Are you finding your higher ground?
ps. For those of you who would like more:
The Journal is the deep end of the pool, the workshop, backstage, behind the scenes. It is where I share what is most tender, close to my heart, and close to the bone. It is embodied writing, and it is intended to get under your skin – to be a physical experience.
The Journal is where I offer questions about practice, the body, and living an improvisational life. It is fed by my ongoing experience as a movement artist, body worker, yogi and horse dancer.
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