Gincy Self Bucklin gave the keynote speech at the Centered Riding International Symposium last November in Vermont and while she impressed me greatly, I did not re-connect with her teachings until Helene began to speak of virtually nothing else during the several hours we spend in the car each week driving to our riding lessons. I knew I had to learn to speak “Gincy” fast, so I devoured all the essays on her website and quickly became a fan.
A portion of one essay really captured my attention (it is actually a quote from one of her students) as it beautifully describes the process of applying Alexander Technique thinking with the resultant hallmark effect – a sensation of lightness or buoyancy. It also provides insight as to what experiences from aikido training might be useful if (when) the moment comes that I find myself on a shying or bolting horse. The buoyant quality that allows sticking with a shying horse sounds a lot like the quality of connection needed to protect myself while taking ukemi (falling from a throw) in aikido. The essay is about overcoming fear and the student is talking about how the fear generated from a horse-riding “incident” spilled over into her next plane flight. How she directed her thinking to transform the experience is very interesting:
“. . . I occupied myself with trying to learn more about the fear, what it does that a horse could feel and how to release it. . . .What worked the best was a physical ‘lightness’ that had to do with surrendering control: a buoyant quality a bit like sticking with a shying horse. . . . recognizing that there's nothing I can do and forcing me to trust the pilot. This made my monkey (emotional) brain release so that the reptile (reflex) part actually came to terms with the natural alarms that were going off. I seemed to find a rightness in what was happening so there came to be a shred of fun, something like a curiosity for learning. . . . I thought I'd discovered something about what fearless people do on a bucking horse or one that is bolting zigzag through the woods . . . trusting the horse . . . turns on the ability to be in the zone where Michael Jordan can fly or I can rock-hop down a creek without looking. If you allow that buoyancy . . . suddenly the body has a celebratory response to challenge, kind of a natural high.”
Buoyancy can also describe personal qualities such as irrepressibility (being “unsinkable”), perkiness (cheerfulness that bubbles to the surface), liveliness and good spirit. Can these states of mind be encouraged by the release of tension in the physical body and, conversely, does the sensation of buoyancy foster a lighter emotional tone?
Seen above in a photo which expresses both grounding and a clear sense of her center, combined with liveliness and lightness of spirit – joie de vivre as Helene might say -- is my daughter, Maya, at age four, enjoying life to the fullest.
Years of familiarity with the movements, rituals and rhythm which create any given aikido class afford me the luxury to explore the “bigger picture” in my own training. What is the nature of the interaction taking place? How can I generate the most power with the least amount of effort? How do I get out of my own way so that the forces of gravity and momentum begin to work to my advantage? Experience has taught me that the more I can find a way to let my center initiate and execute the movement, the more effective my techniques become. A phrase which comes often to mind: the whole is greater than the sum of the parts.
Even when teaching a class full of beginners, I like to incorporate the idea that the movements created by O Sensei (the founder of aikido) are trying to teach us to use ourselves in an integrated way. Of course, I can hear those newer students thinking in exasperation (as I do when describing some of my experiences as a beginning rider) “easier said than done!” How can I consider the whole when I don’t yet know all the parts? Add to this the highly interactive nature of the art – learning to stay centered while blending with and redirecting aggressive energy -- it is a lot to keep track of.
The details of technique are of course important. But what manner of directing attention might allow more of the moving parts to take care of themselves, to find their own place in the larger dynamic movement? This is where familiarity with underlying principles is useful. Awareness of the center (of gravity), soft eyes (diffused to enhance peripheral vision), allowing weight to fall underside (grounding), extending energy (ki), awareness of breathing – when we practice with these principles in mind, other layers of detail can be superimposed. These principles can also begin to inform everyday activities.
Learning about riding through the Centered Ridingtechnique developed by Sally Swift is renewing my connection to these basic principles, and has both enhanced and reinvigorated my aikido training. And because the Alexander Technique was such a big influence on Sally Swift, I often reflect on how his discovery is interwoven into her teaching tools. The synergies that exist between my interrelated endeavors are showing me, on a different level, how the whole really is greater than the sum of the parts.
The image above was taken after class today using my iPhone. My favorite photographs of aikido have a diffuse feeling to them, capturing some of the dynamic quality of the spiral movements. This one seems to convey the interaction as a whole, with just the detail of one hand slightly more in focus.
Reflecting on last week’s riding lesson, I realized that my experience was very full of me trying to tell my horse what to do. Granted, he was a horse in need of clear direction. In retrospect, however, it seems that I spent a lot of time talking at him – a predominantly one-sided conversation. Did I really think I could boss him around, and were my standards impossibly high? My internal dialogue might run like this: is he really close enough to the rail, did he try to cut that corner of the ring, is he walking fast enough, am I giving him clear direction, is he listening to me? Well, that sounds like a conversation with myself, not with my horse, doesn’t it?
The memory of a few moments where my experience was different is causing me to think about what might be the riding equivalent of the good conversationalist’s dictum: “talk less/listen more.” In a way we both were listening at those moments of perceived unity or harmony. As a musician, harmony has a definite meaning to me – and we were each creating our own tone. If you are playing in an ensemble, even just a duet, you must listen carefully and continue listening, matching your tone to the others’ and constantly making incredibly subtle adjustments, which preserve the element of harmony. This could also describe the process of “keeping your balance" – a misnamed phrase. Balance is not a fixed position you can “keep” or a destination you are aiming to reach, but a subtly dynamic state.
The riders I most admire all possess a quiet quality of leadership and I am beginning to realize that this quality is developed through listening, even more than by leading. It’s more about being than doing. A quote from a wonderful book called It’s A Lot Like Dancing, by the aikido teacher, Terry Dobson, reminds me that these riders all have a similar aura surrounding them, and one aspect of this way of being might be described by the word tact:
“Tact is the ability to do the right thing at the right time. How do we know how to do this? How to be tactful? You can’t decide to be tactful. You can only do it intuitively, when you are fully engaged, when your spirit is collected or synchronous. Tact comes from the Latin word tangere, which means “to touch.” In Aikido, we touch each other physically and spiritually. In this way we are learning to open ourselves up to tact, to saying and doing the right thing at the right time.”
Listening means being open to hearing or experiencing something we might not expect and being willing to adapt ourselves to the situation. The activity of listening encompasses both my outer and my inner life. By remaining open and receptive to the subtle intuitive cues coming from within I know I greatly enhance both my self-knowledge and my listening skills.
In recent lessons I have ridden and quickly become enamored of a large paint horse named Amigo, who just happens to have a few “issues.” I confessed to my friend Helene that paint horses always make my heart beat a little faster. Shown above is Jerry, who provided some of my very first positive riding experiences. I call him “that handsome devil.”
Another Centered Riding Clinic has given me new inspiration, insight and food for thought. Jami Wallace, our instructor and Mary Ann Rudolph, the clinic organizer, kindly allowed us to participate, even though we were only able to attend the Sunday portion of the two-day clinic held at idyllic Sunny Brook Farm in Newtown, Connecticut. Thank goodness for the sunshine and mild (for January) weather, which allowed us to ride in a beautiful outdoor ring.
In my Centered Riding Member’s book where clinics and related bodywork activities are recorded, the space provided for “what I learned” does encourage me to reflect… I was struck by how much information we were attempting to process during each moment of our riding, which gave us many possibilities of where to place our attention, as we received a lot of wonderful individual instruction and correction from Jami and her assistant Laurie. We were reminded of many of the imagery tools as we rode in our small group of beginners. The Centered Riding method is very “principle-based,” yet many choices exist regarding how to best apply those principles.
The exercises and imagery are the “what” of the equation and lead inevitably back to the “how” –- how to get out of our own way so that the basic principles underlying the technique can function. Jami often reminds us to “allow” this or that to happen, as opposed to doing something – allow gravity to work, allow the back of your knee and calf to lengthen, allow the weight to sink down through your heel.
But, what allows me to allow? What is the hierarchy of useful tools, or images, or thoughts? How do I prioritize the many choices available to me in each moment? What choice helps to make sense of all the others? Experiences in applying Alexander’s principle over the years have shown me that I am best served by returning first and often to a simple thought process -- one that invokes the master reflex of body mechanics which he discovered. This he called “primary control” and when it functions it literally creates the “tone,” bringing the body into a state of equilibrium, releasing excess tension and opening up awareness in the process.
Many reinforcing experiences have shown me the value of making my first priority noticing the possibility of ease in the area where my head rests atop my spine. This is the key area where even a slight release of tension will reflexively redistribute the energy throughout our entire mechanism. Then other and various images can be overlayed to greater effect, and information about the body as a whole is received more accurately. When I work with people who are interested in learning to apply Alexander’s discovery to their activities, I encourage them to create a new habit for themselves – the habit of finding moments within their activities to first, “catch a glimpse” of ease in the head/neck area, and then to observe what happens to the ease as they continue their activity. This describes a process which is meant to be repeated. The quality of ease will ebb and flow, based on the quality of thinking applied.
According to feedback received from more experienced riders, these moments of noticing the ease seem be equivalent to the concept of the half-halt -- a momentary re-balancing of the rider which also re-balances the horse, and communicates a transition or impending change of activity. To me, this means that riding as an activity is inherently full of opportunities to apply Alexander's principle. The half-halt concept was completely mysterious to me until a discussion with a fine dressage rider helped make this connection.*
My own thoughts eventually circled back to an impressive book which talks about priorities in the sense of choices we make about how to use our time, “First Things First.” This book goes far beyond the usual time management systems and suggests getting in touch with deeply-held values and principles, linking those with goals, and learning to understand how the choices we make in each moment ultimately create our lives. From a chapter in the book called “Integrity in the Moment of Choice”:
“Quality of life depends on what happens in the space between stimulus and response.”
*The half-halt is a fascinating aspect of riding and will be explored in more entries as my understanding grows; an entry on the psoas muscle has been gestating for some time. The photo above was taken when Mary Ann took us to visit four two-year-olds who are pastured together at Sunny Brook Farm. On the left is Rudy, son of the Appaloosa mare I rode in the clinic. These young horses displayed a very lively camaraderie, showing off their unaffected and naturally beautiful movement as they teased each other and played together.
Today on my birthday my horoscope in part advised: “open up your ideas about what happiness means.”
A British medical study has documented several kinds of positive physical changes which occur in people when they experience feelings of happiness or contentment. These include lowered levels of both the stress hormone, cortisol and of two protein markers of inflammation in the body. Excerpts from the article:
“But if happier people are healthier people, the more difficult question remains: How do you become happier?” . . .
"We need to help people to recognize the things that make them feel good and truly satisfied with their lives, so that they spend more time doing these things."
Read the entire article here (Happiness May be Good for Your Health): Mihaly Csikszentmihalyi has spent many years studying the psychology of happiness. He has found that certain types of activities promote a state which includes both immersion and awareness which he calls “flow.” The flow state is also known colloquially as being “in the zone” or “in the groove,” and is often described by high-performance athletes, artists, craftspeople or skilled musicians. This morning I found no less than four of his books on my shelf; the first and a classic is: “Flow: The Psychology of Optimal Experience.” Above: one of my many happy moments of interaction with Beau Dandy, a horse I am getting to know and ride in my Centered Riding lessons with Jami Wallace.
1a: a feeling or consciousness of one's powers or of reliance on one's circumstances 1b: faith or belief that one will act in a right, proper, or effective way 2: the quality or state of being certain 3: a relation of trust or intimacy A state of mind or a manner marked by easy coolness and freedom from uncertainty, diffidence, or embarrassment. Confidence stresses faith in oneself and one's powers without any suggestion of conceit or arrogance.
The northeast winter weather and flu season, along with simple logistics of the holiday season conspired to keep me off a horse for more than a month – a period of time which I initially found to be extremely frustrating. Gradually I adjusted and accepted it somewhat, especially as January drew closer and I was consumed with another creative project.Now that we are back in the saddle, I have noticed a change (dare I say it) in my riding.
Suddenly, I seem to have a newfound sense confidence, and I am trying to figure out what happened, what this means, where it comes from. My more experienced riding friends and mentors have assured me that some day I will become a confident rider who trusts herself and her horse. I know that given my level of obsession, they are probably correct; however, up until very recently, I have felt a constant undertone of doubt and frustration. How refreshing to sense some elevation from what George Leonard might call a learning “plateau.” He describes the process of mastery as a long, winding path or journey, with inevitable periods where effort is applied but nothing seems to be happening. So what has allowed my confidence to begin to emerge? Is it simply a matter of a certain amount of time logged in the saddle? Maybe the many hours spent immersed in the production of my creative project with ample time for thought and reflection was a kind of gestation period for this new phase. Whatever the reason, it is a relief and a refreshing change – a kind of letting go of fear, a settling down, an acceptance of what might happen when I get on the horse and a willingness to just experience it and deal with it moment-by-moment.
My confidence on the aikido mat has had 24 years to develop, and before I started riding I think I had begun to take it for granted -- but I also remember my early years of training quite vividly. This time in riding reminds me of a day about six months after I began aikido when I was walking home after class and realized that I knew where my center was located and that I sensed an energy moving me forward from that place. Now I understand that experience was a first glimpse into a whole new world and one that continues to reveal itself to me – a process like peeling away layers of an onion.
Finally, these words of encouragement from my wise young riding mentor Liz Rome:
“I have many days where I don’t feel like I find the unity, but I am thankful for the days I do… and you are very close indeed to finding it as well. Once you trust yourself and you can trust the horse you are riding (even if they are being silly) you will have found your secret place. No one can teach that. . . it comes with time. Kind of like kids (and some adults) have to learn to love themselves, riders have to learn to trust themselves.“
The photo above both inspires and instructs me – Annelie exhibits a perfectly confident poise as she receives comments from the clinic instructor while remaining in delicate yet complete contact with her horse, Sober. Notice her solid yet light seat connection and rein contact and the attentive way Sober is “listening” to her.
This morning I happened upon a PBS broadcast of Dr. Christiane Northrup, MD, someone I have followed for many years, first encountering her wisdom in the pages of East West Journal, the old macrobiotic magazine. She is a wonderful healer, teacher and holistic ObGyn. She mentioned something in the broadcast which intrigued me when she described the power of an image to cause a measurable hormonal response in the body. She suggested that we all need to have access to an image that makes us “melt” inside, that really moves us and puts us in touch with our love and concern – for some it will be a baby or small child, for others a kitten, puppy or a helpless baby bird. Everyone can probably name one that works for them. Apparently it is well-documented that release of the master hormone DHEA is triggered by this type of thinking -- specifically in women, but I would imagine that positive hormonal reactions are connected to all human feelings of deep care and concern.
Today especially I had wanted to share an inspiring image and a wish for us all for the year to come. When I pulled Dr. Northrup’s book off my shelf to see if I could find the relevant passage, I found it overflowing with inspiration. I highly recommend the book: Women’s Bodies, Women’s Wisdom, which has been called “a masterpiece for every woman who has an interest in her body, her mind, and her soul.” From the final paragraph:
“Commit to living your dreams – one day at a time. This is the process that is required to heal our families, our communities, and our planet. May you go forth now, to take a nap, to embrace a child, to feel the sun on your face, or to eat a good meal slowly, knowing deep within you that the next step for healing and living joyfully is already there, waiting for you to listen to it, waiting to be born into the world – through you…”
Above you see a photo that has caused any number of big, burly martial artists of the male gender and equal numbers of women to “melt” in response. Calvin is a special horse I met at the Centered Riding Instructors’ Clinic in North Carolina and Liz Rome (introducing daughter Keeley to Calvin) is the beautiful, patient and skilled rider chosen by his owner to ride him during the 3-day clinic. I felt a special connection to Liz – she had an earnest and determined, yet open quality about her, in addition to her obvious riding expertise and experience. She was also the same age as my own daughter. Even as a novice rider, I could appreciate the way she handled Calvin. She was just the calm, quiet, patient and steady leader he needed to reassure him through his fear issues.
