Life in the "ManeStream"

For years, horsewomen I like and respect have been telling me my teaching approach is very “classical.” I like that notion, because I have always been more attracted to the baroque than any other equestrian tradition. But after spending a weekend watching and listening to clinician Florian Zimmermann, a bereiter at the Spanish Riding School, I guess they must be right.

Those three days were a breath of fresh air for me as a teacher and a rider. The methods used and theories presented just made sense to me, right down to my core. Much of it fit into what I already do with my horses and my clients, but with some variations that I will enjoy exploring. Still more showed me that I have gotten a bit lazy in my own riding and in what I ask of my own horses, so it was inspiration to work harder. But in general it was very restful and familiar and clear. I never experienced a single moment when I didn’t understand what the clinician was trying to accomplish or why he was asking what he was of horse and rider.

Watching Florian ride was like listening in to a very respectful and entirely focused conversation between two intelligent beings working together to solve a problem. He exuded calm and, of course, his seat and hands were impeccable, but he also was clearly in charge, the undisputed leader in the dance by mutual consent, which was sometimes challenged but was never enforced with, well, force. The horses interjected their own “opinions,” and suggested courses of action that were quietly shaped and guided, never rejected or punished. The message stayed consistent, the energy stayed consistent and I could see the horses visibly relax, breathe and gain confidence.

The same was true for the riders, who also visibly benefited from his calm but uncompromising approach. The horse would fall out of the gait. “It doesn’t matter. Do it again.” The rider would lean forward and drop the horse in a transition. “It doesn’t matter. Do it again.” The extremely rude reining guy (more on him later) or his students would blunder right into the rider’s path and break her concentration. “It doesn’t matter. Do it again.” All the while he was quietly pushing each rider to pay attention to every transition, to ride every step, not even to slump in the saddle when we were walking on a long rein or resting and listening to critique and instructions. An interesting combination of aiming to make every movement as good as it could be, but not getting hung up on any individual failure. Stay in the present. Get on with it and do it better the next time.

Florian talked a lot about “showing the horse” what to do, never about “making” the horse do anything. He emphasized the basics – straightness and throughness and straightness again. Transitions, transitions, transitions. Help the horse do what you want, and when he does something else, no big deal. Show him again. Pet him and tell him when he does well. The single most uttered word of the weekend was “connection,” which was presented as the absolute and necessary basis for everything else. Those of you who know me and have worked with me or heard me teach know that is a word I use again and again; it is the overarching goal of everything I do with horses.

I generally glean some useful bit of information from every clinician I see, but the sorting out process always seems to include some squinched-up-forehead-incomprehension time and some outright winces when horses and their riders are asked to do things in ways I know are either biomechanically impossible or that seem unnecessarily harsh to me. I inevitably come home with a body sore from “feeling” tightness and bracing and pain from the horses. This time I came home relaxed and certain that my theory is sound even if my execution is less consistent than I would like. No aches and pains, only the inspiration to keep exploring and working. Whew.