The night is balmy, the humidity is down and so are the bugs, except for a couple of “bombers,” the huge flies which like to plague both horses and riders. We have our orders: let them land on your horse, smack them with a flat palm, and then, if possible, squish them -- luckily, only our instructor executes that maneuver! We turn our attention to the bats which flitter above us. A screech owl calls from the distance and rabbits stop frozen in their tracks.
We shift our weight forward to make it easier for the horses to climb the steep hill which leads up into the trees. As we enter, I am surprised that we can see anything at all inside – am I still in New Jersey? My eyes adjust and suddenly transported, I find myself in a fern-carpeted forest – majestic, yet intimate. The horses seem content but not overly-impressed – after all it’s not their first trail ride.
We approach a tangle of trees, following our instructor as she weaves through them – a rustic obstacle course. My horse trips, stumbles deeply, but regains his balance. As a slight squeak of surprise escapes my lips, the teacher reminds us that we must always keep our eyes up on the trail, shining out like car headlights on high-beam. And we must keep our awareness of our center low and close to the horse.
Lord Stirling Park borders The Great Swamp, a 7,500 acre wildlife preserve. Our instructor makes sure to let us know that we are approaching the area known as the hiding place of the Devil of the Great Swamp, and some of the younger set of riders express an uncharacteristic hesitation to continue on -- usually they want to do nothing but canter like mad around the inside arena. However, soon we are trotting, up the trail, through the dark, ducking the low-hanging branches and marveling at ourselves -- at least I am! And I am incredibly relaxed despite it all.
Riding a horse out in nature – somehow this feels just perfect. Then I realize it is also distantly familiar, reminiscent of the ponies we used to rent from the neighboring farmer for 50¢ during those childhood summers at Clear Lake -- we would ride them through the woods bareback, by ourselves, on the unkempt trails, before the era of helmets or waiver forms. Sometimes they would brush us off against a tree and simply trot back to the barn.
Tolkien said that "Middle-earth was not at a physically distant time, but rather 'at a different stage of imagination.'" Now, just as I celebrate the one-year anniversary of that first clinic, which introduced me to both Centered Riding® and Lord Stirling Stable, I begin to imagine a whole new dimension of riding. The lovely photo above captures the mystical quality I experienced when we first entered the forest. “It was just like something out of Lord of the Rings” I told my friends. Sure enough, I somehow found the image I was looking for in the work of Asni -- harpist, photographer and Tolkien aficionado currently living in New Zealand (photo above taken in Germany and used with her permission). Please visit her website to see her other beautiful images and listen to her magical music, including her new album "Travels in Middle-earth."
What a great opportunity I thought when I noticed the clinic announcement on the Equestrian Education Systems (EES) website early last spring – and it was! For the past week or so I have been digesting some of the rich experience of attending the “Seat Symposium” which was held at Gleneden Dressage in Bedford, New York and conducted by Eckart Meyners, German sports physiologist and professor at the Institute for Leisure Research, Play and Movement Education (sounds like fun!) at the University of Luneburg, Germany.
Having now experienced Mr. Meyners’ work in person, his books are proving evermore useful and inspiring. Here is a passage which so captured my attention that I missed my subway stop! It’s another piece of the puzzle which has challenged me – how to feel grounded and stable atop the horse:
“The rider’s inner eye . . . should feel the weight of the head traveling down through the center of the body, gaining weight from the body as it goes downward. When this weight reaches the rider’s pelvis, it splits and continues down both legs and out the heels. While the body weight is traveling downward due to gravity’s force, the rider appears to be carrying her upper body upright and flexible, like a puppet with strings in the clouds. Meanwhile the pelvis is following the motion of the horse.”
As the above information sinks in, I am finding that my experience of standing on the earth is changing, as is my sense of connection to the ground while riding. In addition to paying attention to the poise of my head, I also notice that its weight is quite tangible – I call it ‘heavy in a good way.’ I don't have to interfere with the poise of my head to allow its weight to sink down through my bones, all the way to my feet, through my heels, down into the earth. A circuit is established, like plugging in a light, because as the weight flows down, an energy also rises back up through me. Paradoxically, the acceptance of the weight of the head, allows the bones to fulfill their function of support, yet also confers a sense of buoyancy and ease. It is intriguing to feel light and heavy at the same time!
Upcoming posts here will share more of the invaluable insights of Eckart Meyners. The Balimo™ or “Balance in Motion” chair is shown above with lines drawn to illustrate the type of movements possible while seated on it (virtually limitless planes of motion). Even a short period of use brought substantially increased awareness of the “seat” bones, balance (or lack of it!) and movement potential of the whole pelvis.
Yamada Sensei paused during his Tuesday morning class at the United States Aikido Federation Summer Camp (taking place this week at Stockton College near Atlantic City) to share with us what he feels are the most important aspects of the art. Here is my interpretation of what he said: It was only moderately surprising to me to hear him say that, first of all and most importantly, Aikido must be beautiful. That’s my Sensei, I thought – and he has been for nearly 25 years. The grace and symmetry of the movements and a fascination with the interaction have certainly been primary for me, with interest in the martial application developing gradually and a bit later. Now I see that the quality of beauty is not separate from the martial aspect. The elegance is pure physics, probably much the same as when mathematicians refer to certain proofs as “elegant.” Economy and purity of motion produce martial effectiveness.
Aikido must also be positive and this Yamada Sensei demonstrated for us very clearly. By contrasting proper extension, expansion and forward movement with the opposite effects of pulling in with the arms or moving backwards, he looked for a moment like a mere mortal rather than the larger-than-life figure we are used to experiencing on the mat.
Finally he reminded us that Aikido must be dynamic. He emphasized that each technique must have a memorable beginning and a clear ending. As a musician, I know the importance of dynamic variation, and as it happened, Sensei gave the example of a Beethoven symphony he had been listening to that morning – it begins with a strong statement and it has a shape. A trip to the dictionary reminded me that the term “dynamic” relates to energy or to objects in motion, is characterized by continuous change (emphasis mine) and is marked by intensity and vigor.
Although English is not Yamada Sensei’s native language, I believe he succinctly and completely described his Aikido – I can only imagine how eloquent his thoughts might be in Japanese.
The video clip above is from a series of instructional tapes by Yamada Sensei with Donovan Waite taking ukemi. It fully illustrates the beautiful, positive and dynamic qualities of the art of Aikido.
photo © Asni
