the other side

It has been over a year since I last shared anything here. Those who know me know something of the story but the gist of it is that I have passed through a time of deep sorrow and loss and have finally emerged to fully embrace life and learning again. Lots of knitting was accomplished this winter as I meditatively worked through my feelings, and more than a few horses have carried me as I cried -- they have taken especially good care of their trembling rider.

Springtime is bringing many riding opportunities, Centered Riding® clinics, study groups, a new Finding Harmony with your Horse session at Lord Stirling. Annelie and I are attending Feldenkrais and Franklin Method (with Eric Franklin!) workshops, and spending time together pursuing our many common interests. and I’m fully back on the aikido mat and doing a lot more Alexander Technique teaching. My daughter and her husband have moved to New York! You can hear her lovely coloratura soprano voice on the blogger site I just created for her: Maya's Arrival.

So, I’m looking forward to tending my digital garden here at RBHE again, now that I have come out on the other side – of life.

Theo, the biggest horse I have ridden so far, terrified me with his ground behavior, only to show me that, as promised by his owner, he is a perfect gentleman under saddle and truly a gentle giant!

look into their eyes

The platform and the cars of the subway were eerily empty this morning – quite a contrast to yesterday’s crushing commute when New Yorkers exhibited not-their-best behavior, pushing into the packed train and tossing rude comments back and forth. This morning, before I left the house, we exchanged a few words: “you know it’s 9/11, yes, I’m running late, the subway has been a nightmare, not looking forward to that, call you later" etc. My preoccupations kept me from kissing him goodbye.

As soon as I hit the street I felt it. The past few years I’ve tried to pretend that this day could be just like any other day again. But it never is and the tears welled up, as they invariably do, and I headed down into the subway, wondering what I would find. Wouldn’t you know that I found I missed them, all of those New Yorkers. Where was everyone today? Were they afraid to ride the train, right at this time, the time the first plane hit? Were they home watching the ceremonies at Ground Zero on TV? Were they grieving loved ones lost?

As I took stock of the other riders I wondered if we should be nervous. Was I imagining the mood to be somber? Remember, after 9/11, when you could sit on the train and cry, and know you wouldn’t be alone in that -- not have to feel awkward or know why you were crying. We were all crying in our own way. And during that time we actually looked at each other. You felt you could speak to people and you knew you could ask for help if you needed it. You knew you would give help, if asked. The world had changed and New Yorkers started looking into each others eyes.

“Shouldn’t we be doing something special today?” my co-worker asked this morning, her eyes reddening as she turned to her calculations and spreadsheets. I said I might meet a friend for coffee – someone I had watched the TV with at work as the second plane hit that day. We had left the office together and bought flip-flops for the long walk home. She talked about her best friend from high school whose brother died in the Towers, seven years ago. He would have children by now she mused -- he had been engaged to be married. We all know someone. Each year we hear the stories, old and new.

Tonight at home when I stand quietly at a south-facing window and look downtown, I’ll see the gap in the skyline, filled this week with the beautiful and symbolic tower of light. I’ll remember the heavy smoke and the long-lingering odor of that dark time. And I suspect, like many New Yorkers, the day will have been marked yet again by a very personal mourning and reflection and possibly a remembrance of the softening and opening of our hearts, and our eyes.

The photo above was taken to promote a recital my daughter sang in June, 2002. We were not trying to capture the flag which appears on the subway car, but somehow it seemed appropriate – a full year had not yet passed since 9/11 and a certain special patriotism was still very much apparent here in New York.

Hear her album "Maya's Idyll" here.

buoyancy

Helene has a wonderful new obsession: Gincy!

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.