Tag Archives: Brandi Rivera

flow

Photo:  Pam White                 Dae and Esme flowing down Lucy Vincent Beach on Martha’s Vineyard

I learned some wonderful lessons about flow today.

First, a lesson from the movement analyst (me):  In movement, in creativity, in relationships, there are two kinds of flow. Free flow is where the feeling is unrestricted, outpouring, ongoing.  Bound flow occurs when the movement is restricted, held back.  A lot of us assume that bound flow is bad – it means that we are stuck, or limited in some terrible way.  But there are times when we want to engage bound flow – putting down a delicate cup, or picking up a pen for example.  We don’t want the cup to crash, the pen to fly our of our hands.

  • During my riding lesson with Brandi Rivera, I learned (again) that using bound flow in my riding aids (leg, seat, hands) for short moments creates a clearer sense of free flowing, fluid connection and suppleness with my horse, Sanne.
  • I learned that creating boundaries for a troublesome child opens us to greater ease and communication.
  • I learned that starting the day early by opening the floodgates to my fiction writing creates another one of those great, unexpected entry points to the day.  It is like choosing to enter the cave first, rather than stepping right out into the light.

How do you experience flow?

 

 

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on not figuring it out

Photo:  Claire Glover

Amadeo is my talented, complicated 17 year-old Andalusian gelding.  I have had him since he was 8, when I imported him from Spain.  He has never been an easy ride for me, and about six months ago, he made the decision that he did not want me to ride him.  To be more specific, he decided that only Brandi Rivera, his very talented trainer (and mine) should ride him.  We confirmed all of this with an animal communicator. She told us that he wanted to show off his skill and beauty, which includes the gorgeous flying changes, pirouettes and half passes that he is doing.

Brandi is now pregnant and not riding.  So Amadeo, this brilliant and opinionated horse, is unemployed.  And because he is not turned out with another horse because he can get rambunctious, he is both unemployed and lonely.

My happiest scenario for Amadeo is that someone would love him, like to lease him and enjoy riding and spending time with him. Deo loves to work – he enjoys that connection with himself and a rider – he is just very specific about how that looks and feels.  I love him, but I am not that rider – something that has taken me some time and some tears to accept.  If you are interested in meeting Deo, you can see him here, and follow that contact information.

My challenge in all of this is to not obsess about figuring out what will happen next for Deo.  To not focus on what is making me unhappy, but to feel my way toward a beautiful outcome for both of us.  And to keep all of that general, because getting specific creates more thinking, more working at it, more obstacles.

riding, dancing

Photo:  Claire Glover;  Brandi Rivera riding Amadeo

Riding is the hardest thing that I do.  Physically.  Mentally.  Spiritually.

I am a dancer.  Riding is harder.  The intricacy, the communication, the balance, the nuance, the subtlety required in the riding arena are beyond anything I have experienced in a dance studio.  Martha Graham said that it takes ten years to make a dancer.  One of my first trainers, Beach Bennett, said that it takes at least two lifetimes to become a rider. She is right.

I have had to accept that despite my physical skills, my training and my understanding, I am going to need that second lifetime to become all that I want as a rider.  It is humbling. I welcome it.

I wrote yesterday about touching horses, and the way that brings me to my knees.  How I love it.  Riding is that way too.  Sitting in the saddle (my zafu) and finding the first rhythmic harmonics with my horse’s walk is like breathing. Or like stepping into the water, readying for a swim.  Being challenged to seek harmony, softness, clarity and balance throughout a riding lesson is like sitting with a tough Zen master.  Or like my yoga classes with Patricia Walden.  No tuning out, not ever, not for a moment.

The horse, you see, deserves nothing less than my very best.

Rigor and ecstasy.  Could there be anything better?