My Toughest Training Challenge

 www.lisascaglionedressage.com 

NOTE TO THE READER: I have purposely gone into detail in the hopes that the reader will try to guess the cause of  my training problem, and would consider how they might have responded to a similar set of challenges. As is so often the case in life, things are not always as they appear.

     In Dressage Today there is a column called My Toughest Training Challenge, which I enjoy reading. The most difficult issues are generally ones that are outside of what we expect from the normal course of training, and often cannot be solved until quite a bit of thought and intuition have been applied with an effort to 'think outside the box'.
     I had one such issue with my 4 year old Lusitano stallion, whom I had recently started under saddle. I’m accustomed to the challenges that the more sensitive horse presents, especially early on in their training when everything new to them is good cause for fits of excitement - whether from exuberance or fear. Dario’s grand-sire is Opus 72, a well known bull fighting horse from the last century. Bloodlines on his dam’s side also include Veiga as well as Andrade, so he is bred to be quick, sensitive and intelligent - and has not disappointed. He also happens to be a very sweet young stallion who wants to do well for his people, and who takes his job as the man about the barn quite seriously. 
     When I first started working with him in hand and on the lunge, I could see he had an unusual ability to focus on the work, and was quite proud when he understood what was expected and found he could do it. If, on the other hand, the work progressed at anything faster than ½  a baby step, he would have a kind of hysterical nervous fit, becoming wild eyed, running and bucking while flinging his body in every direction. In this case I would do the obvious - go back and do something I knew he could be successful at to build his confidence, and then proceed further at a slower pace.
     Approached in this manner, we progressed in almost text book perfection to the point where he seemed ready to be ridden, so I asked my assistant to lunge me on him. Dario did well accepting the contact of the side reins and balancing under my weight. I had walked him many times under saddle and worked with him in hand to teach him basic rein and leg aids. The first time I took him off the lunge he went beautifully. He not only responded to my aids to trot, walk and ho, but also steered well and even reached for the contact at times. At walk, he responded nicely to seat and weight aids and consistently sought my hand. Knowing how quickly a young horse can loose focus and the importance of getting off while things are going well, I kept these first rides extremely short.
     We went on like this for about a week, until one day when I got on him, he began fidgeting almost uncontrollably when I stepped into the stirrup and sat down. After some rather unfocussed walk work, I asked him to trot and he took off in a springy little protest buck. There was something in this little buck that felt more like “I really, really need you off me now”, rather than “I’m a young guy who’s a little excited today”. I make it a rule never to get off a young horse while he’s playing up or misbehaving - whatever the cause - but my intuition told me there was something really wrong, and that if I pressed him he would explode. My mind told me: “If you get off now, you’ll cause a serious training problem and he will act up for the next month”. My heart said: “This horse is severely anxious for reasons you need to uncover, and if you continue on he may injure you, and you will permanently damage his young confidence and goodwill”. I have always been sorry when I haven’t followed my intuition (and have never regretted it when I have) so I decided to end the ride. I wished to disassociate my dismounting from his misbehavior, so I asked him to halt to allow him a moment to settle his mind. Then I walked him for a minute in both directions, trotted him several seconds in the direction we had been going when he misbehaved, asked him to halt again, and got off  - hoping he hadn‘t seen through my ruse and didn‘t think I had gotten off because he had intimidated me.
     I assumed that possibly I had gone a bit too fast in his training (as hard as that was to believe) and that it was this, in combination with the foul weather (it was December) that  was causing his stress. So I did the obvious, and took a step backward in his training to build his confidence and re-affirm previous lessons. The following day I planned to first lunge him and then briefly walk him under saddle (no trot work). When I lunged him, he was particularly naughty - running, bucking, falling in on the circle in order to thwart my efforts to keep him forward. My intuition told me it was not a good day to get on him, but I foolishly pressed forward with the program I had decided upon (after all, he had been walking under saddle for months now). He was extremely difficult to mount again (which I attributed to my assistant not positively dealing with this the previous day). As soon as I was in the saddle, he started shaking violently, acting as if he was about to take off in a wild buck or begin rearing. I did the only thing I could to remain safe and decided to pretend that the lesson that day had been all about “Ho”. I stopped him, told him he had performed a very clever “Ho”, and jumped off. I knew now I had a real training problem on my hands, as well as a serious safety issue, and I assumed I had caused it. I hoped Dario believed that our lesson had really been all about halting, but I had my doubts, and I knew if he thought he had intimidated me, I was in very serious trouble.
     I did the only thing I could, which was to proceed yet another step back in our training, intending to focus on obedience as we re-affirmed old lessons. When faced with a difficult training issue I like to focus on one aspect of it that seems to be at the heart of things, and I considered obedience to be the underlying problem here. But, to my surprise - and extreme dismay - with each step I took back in training, he was equally as uncooperative. We went backwards and backwards until I was no longer lunging him in the arena and was even having difficulty working with him in hand (this was a stallion I had shown in hand with no difficulties, even when we ended up in an arena full of mares and babies at one show).  Now, I found that he was difficult just walking to the arena and to the pasture, and the only place I could work with him successfully was the sand paddock adjoining the barn - so this is where we worked.
     Although I now thought his behavior disobedient, he still seemed more stressed to me than defiant, so I was quite sure he had had some kind of nervous breakdown due to me proceeding too quickly with his training (and that being a sensitive young stallion, it had gone to the extreme and he had lost complete confidence in both me and himself). Since I had not been able to solve this on my own, and since I pride myself in being humble enough to seek outside input, I poured myself into trying to find the key to Dario’s loss off confidence. I went online reading blogs, chat rooms and training articles. I re-read  Col. Podhajsky’s Complete Training of Horse and Rider and a very good book called, The Natural Stallion. I even watched video of Opus 72, and asked friends with Iberians for advice. Somewhere, I thought, was the answer to the training problem from hell - but it wasn’t in me.
     To my utter horror, as fascinating and educational as all of this learning was, it did not help my problem one  bit. I began to study Dario’s behavior in and around the barn more closely. I quickly realized he was just as miserable in the pasture as he was when I worked with him in the arena. He seemed to wish to remain in his stall all day. When I turned him out, he stood still for hours without attempting to graze. I even attempted to lure him into the pasture myself by walking well out and calling to him. His response was to gallop out to me, wag his head at me to warn me to return to the barn (obviously considering the far reaches of the pasture unsafe for a female alone) and then to gallop back to the sand paddock adjoining the barn, where he stood staring at me with a look of obvious dismay and reproach. Then suddenly it hit me: he was content only in his stall and in the sand paddock -- rather than being a sudden and inexplicable complete mental and emotional breakdown, it might just be that his feet were sore. He wasn’t lame in the sand paddock, so I put him on a lead and walked him over various other turf, observing him closely. I realized he was tender footed even on the rubber stall mats in my barn. I applied hoof testers, but couldn’t find an actual sore spot (like an abscess or a bruised sole), but I was still sure both of his front feet were very sore. I gave him bute the following day to test my theory, and for the first time in weeks he walked around the pasture grazing happily. I knew I had found the key. I pulled out the calendar and there it was - the day he first acted up under saddle, the day after which he was never the same, was also the day he had his feet trimmed by a new trimmer.
     I should stop here to explain. I am a fanatic about management and about service providers, often learning to do things myself so I can be sure they’re done properly. There is only one farrier in my area whom I trust,  but I had decided to remove my other horses’ shoes for the Winter, and my farrier cannot travel the distance to me for a few trims. I tried a barefoot trimmer, and after being dissatisfied  with the first, tried a second, who was able do a good job with my other horses. Neither trimmer, however, seemed capable of trimming my stallion, who actually has beautiful feet and should have been quite easy to trim. The issue was that his feet are so hard the soles don’t wear down enough naturally, and the barefoot trimmers were allowing his feet to get too long, to the point where he was stumbling. This new trimmer decided that rather than lower the whole foot (wall and sole) as I requested, she would rasp the wall of his feet up about ¾ of an inch, so that the soles of his feet would wear on their own (according to her). I had real reservations about this, but I decided to allow it for one cycle.
     Now, I picked up Dario’s front feet and examined them very closely. I could see that at the point of contact with the ground the wall had been filed in such a manner that he was making contact only with his sole and along the white line. His hard soles didn’t seem sore, but I suspected that concussive pressure on the white line was traveling to the more sensitive parts of the foot and had triggered a painful inflammatory response. I called the vet out who confirmed my suspicions. At this point I did the only thing a person with my nature could do - after a brief and disappointing attempt to find a trimmer I could trust, I signed myself up for an online course in foot trimming and poured myself into learning all I could so I could do the trims myself. I had always trimmed younger, unstarted horses, but once they were working, I left their podiatric needs to the professionals. I began to study the anatomy of the foot with all its internal structures, the biomechanics of the foot and leg, learned about various balance issues, and viewed instructional video of various types of trims. I combined some of the barefoot methods with some of the traditional methods to come up with a trim that keeps my horses’ feet in maximum health, but allows them to work under saddle comfortably and with good stability. 
     I decided to allow Dario to remain mainly in his stall for about a month while his feet grew out, and then I proceeded to trim them myself. When I rasped his feet the first time, I could see that one of his front feet was bruised in a thin line all along the area where the white line and the sole meet (confirming my theory). I began soaking it. Shortly after this - with much trepidation - I  proceeded to the arena with him for the first time to begin working with him again.  We started out simply, just walking around in both directions on a lead. I was greatly relieved by Dario’s alert, “Yes, Maam” attitude, and put him in his stall that day considering it a positive first step. After doing this for a couple days, I moved on to lunging in a cavesson, lunging in a surcingle and side reins, lunging in full tack, being mounted…you get the picture. We quickly reviewed all the stages of young horse learning at an accelerated pace, reinforcing all our previous lessons in a couple of weeks. We moved on to lunging the rider and removal of the lunge line. I don’t know if I was surprised or just relieved, but the horse I thought was utterly ruined before he began, the horse I considered so disobedient he was one phone call away from being gelded, was once again focused and proud -  going around the arena just as if nothing had ever happened (which I suppose, it hadn’t).  After our ride, I leaned over before dismounting, patted him on the neck, and told him “good boy”.  As if in affirmation of all my efforts, he turned toward me and nickered very low in my ear, "brrr" - very much pleased with himself. That low nicker of recognition will be indelibly etched in my memory as an affirmation that kindness and devotion to a horse is always rewarded with like affection.
     So what is the moral of my story? It’s a lesson I’ve already learned numerous times and am surprised it’s so easy to forget: that the training problem that just can’t be solved with reasonable effort, the training problem that appeared out of no where despite a sensible program - just might not be a training problem at all. Pain is the ultimate de-motivator for any creature, no less a horse, who is incapable of expressing his hurt in any manner other than refusal to cooperate. Not knowing my horse was in pain, but correctly assessing his mental state, allowed me to ultimately proceed with his training as if there had never been a problem - once the pain was removed. So what was the key to solving, ‘My Toughest Training Challenge’ -- LISTENING.
     Now lets imagine the contrary. Imagine a young, sensitive horse who is fearful because of serious pain and is in training with someone who fails to recognize or explore his emotions. The trainer presses him onward, thinking the horse disobedient. Imagine the horse’s desperation, the explosion, the trainers attempts to get this ‘unwilling horse’ under control.  Imagine the gadgets that might have been pulled out, the forceful and utterly futile attempts to stem the horses ‘aggression’ (yes - this horse would likely have become actually aggressive by now). The horse is moved from trainer to trainer, but by now has learned that humans, and being ridden, are to be feared beyond all things. The pain may have long been gone, but the lesson of distrust and fear remain. A talented horse with a kind and willing temperament is now considered mean, dangerous and untrainable - and actually has become just that, ruining any potential he may have had, and dashing all his owners dreams for him. How often does this happen, I wonder?
     Perhaps in most instances the horse’s pain is less severe, the horse has a more stoic temperament or the horse is further along in his training, but the outcome is still very much the same (or possibly worse for the horse). Since the horse is not acting out enough to be considered dangerous, he is branded ‘stubborn and unwilling’ and is whipped and spurred until he is pressed forward through his resistance in silent pain…until one day he finally breaks down altogether. I have seen this scenario much too often and marvel at the ignorance of all around. They will tell you with perfect confidence what an unwilling creature the horse is, and how he is in need of discipline - as if the ultimate disobedience of the horse was to stubbornly break down in defiance of the trainer’s prudent training program. A horse who has become mentally stressed is accused of  trying to “get out of work” by “always acting up when the work gets hard”. The  horse who is physically broken will be said to have some unseen underlying congenital issue which the vet can’t diagnose, but everyone knows must be there, or to have injured himself in the pasture (the reason so many performance horses are not let out of a box stall).
     So what do we do when we desire to listen to our horse, but are unsure of what the horse is saying to us? I’d like to leave the reader with a mantra, which I repeat to myself every time my schooling program isn’t progressing at the pace or in the way I had imagined, but which I believe has saved me from ever inadvertently causing any mental or physical grief to a horse:   I’VE GOT TIME.

Dressage & Pseudo-Dressage

When is a Rose by the Same Name No Longer a Rose?

www.lisascaglionedressage.com 

I’ve seen the words Classical Dressage used so much of late, I was a little hesitant to call myself a classical dressage instructor, fearing the words had become meaningless, or worse, had become an empty marketing phrase. But, after so much effort on my part to become a properly educated rider and instructor, I’ll try instead to explain what actually distinguishes classical dressage. There are a number of excellent books written by those much worthier than myself, so this condensed version of classical vs. modern will be mainly observations of what I’ve seen, and what I’ve learned through instruction, study, and from my own horses 
   The word classical itself has numerous meanings: of or relating to the ancient Greeks or Romans; relating to the most artistically developed stage of a civilization; standard and authoritative rather than experimental - these are just a few that I found. All of these definitions would apply to some degree when we use the term Classical Dressage. I will use the term Modern Dressage to refer pejoratively to practices which have crept into riding in modern times and which are classically incorrect and harmful to the horse, but I'd actually prefer the term Pseudo-dressage, as it's the falseness of the practices, not the modernity which is the problem. As much else in life, these black and white distinctions do not hold up well, and there is more of a continuum between the two. There are many correctly trained riders who would not call themselves classical, but who do ride according to classical principles (perhaps with a few modern elements). There are also riders who ride using a bag a tricks which they’ve learned, but perhaps have also absorbed a few elements of correct riding along the way (or at least the terminology). Then there is an admix of everything in between. I will not use the term competitive dressage. The rules for the FEI were written by classically trained riders and are based on the classical principles of riding. In competition arenas you will find everything from the most accomplished to the absolutely tactless. Judging may also vary between those who reward correctness and harmony and those who reward mainly large and flashy gaits. I will not criticize any one national school. Personally, I find it commendable when a nation at least makes an effort to educate its riders and codify what it expects them to learn, even if one chooses to disagree with some of its teachings or methods. 
     The earliest treatise on horsemanship is from Xenophon, written before the time of Christ. During the Middle Ages in Europe horsemanship fell into decline, and it was only during the Renaissance in Italy that interest in horsemanship as an art was resurrected. From Italy this interest traveled to France, and then throughout much of Europe. Most of us know that military schools eventually became the holders and teachers of this art in order to train horses to be quick and reliable in battle, as well as for purposes of national pride in parade. The first European treatise on dressage was written in the early 18th century - F. de la Gueriniere’s School of Horsemanship. Then there are numerous more recent books written by those of the various national schools. It is difficult to describe in words what is actually feeling of movement, so one will notice some differences in wording and emphasis when reading works by different authors. One can say there is a French Classical School, a Portuguese Classical School, German Classical, Viennese, etc. The fundamentals are the same until we reach modern times, but there are some differences in style and emphasis. Riders were all men, and they were all from privileged, educated classes of society. Horsemanship was taken very seriously, and riders were rigorously trained by academies for horsemanship. In modern times, thankfully, we live in more egalitarian societies where anyone with a backyard with grass may own a horse; but this has left riders seeking training for themselves (from riders who have sought training for themselves) leading inevitably to techniques and ideas adopted and passed on because they seem to provide shortcuts to the training of the horse. Some of these false practices have come out of a false understanding and exaggeration of some of the differences between the national schools mentioned above. I will explain.
     Roundness and the horse’s back - is it a bow? In classical teaching the horse becomes ‘round’ due to the engagement and impulsion of his hindquarters and the resultant lifting of his forehand. The rider must school the horse carefully and over a long period of time through gymnastic work to strengthen and supple the joints of the hind end as well as the muscles of the hindquarter and core. We might think of an image of a motor boat - as the engine in the back of the boat lowers and increases in power, the front of the boat lifts naturally. The horse’s back gently swings and lifts as if meeting the rider’s seat, and the neck gently arches upward from the withers, flexing at the poll. One of the German classical writers in describing the feeling of the gently rounded horse’s back used the unfortunate term ‘bow’ (as in an archery bow) and it is this, I think, which has led to a basic misunderstanding in modern times of how to achieve roundness in the horse. Riders will often attempt to ‘make their horse round’ through the compression of the horses spine (like an archery bow). They will use leg and hand to force the horse’s spine to arch upward in an artificial manner. This compression of the horse’s back between the riders leg and hand causes too much flexion in the horse's spine, which can do physical harm to the horse. It also creates an incorrect balance in advanced horses, with the horse literally collapsing over his shoulders (on his forehand) rather than lifting in the shoulders and withers and lowering the hindquarters through the articulation of the joints of the hind end. Visually, this incorrect balance will result in a horse who is tight in the throat latch, who’s poll is too low with head behind the vertical and the cervical vertebra 'broken' somewhere near C3, who doesn‘t engage the limbs of the hindquarters sufficiently for the work demanded, and there will be an overall tightness and mechanical way of going. In extreme cases it is easy to see, as the horse is likely to drop his back during extended trot - flinging his front legs outward and not tracking up with his hind legs. In piaffe, his front legs will be angled sharply backward - toward his center of gravity - as a counterbalance to the weight of his head collapsing over his shoulders. Although not difficult to see in advanced horses, the problem begins with incorrect lower level schooling.
     Related to this incorrect attempt to achieve roundness, is an incorrect attempt to achieve connection. If you think of the energy generated by the hindquarters as an electric current, it travels from the horses hindquarters, through the horse’s back and the rider’s center of gravity, into and through the riders hands to the horse’s mouth, and back again to the hindquarters - like an electrical circuit. To achieve this, the horse is schooled from the very beginning to reach for the bit - to seek the rider’s hand. The hind end of the young horse is strengthened through forward movement and the hand is soft and stable to encourage the horse to seek the contact. This cannot be achieved if the horse is first started under saddle by lunging him in tight side reins with his head pulled part way to his chest in order to teach him to ‘go in a dressage frame’. The young horse needs time to come to trust both the bit and the rider’s hand. When the young horse has regained his balance (and no longer feels the need of his neck to help him balance under the weight of the rider) and when his hind end can move energetically, his nose will naturally drop on its own. As he becomes stronger and his balance shifts more to the rear, his haunches will lower, his neck will arch up from the withers, and the head will appear vertical to the ground (the ‘on the bit’ outline we are used to seeing). The angle at the horse’s atlas does not actually change - it remains about 90%. Any attempt to achieve this ‘look’ too early in the horse’s training (through hands pulling left and right or gadgets) pulls the horses head behind the 90% angle, disturbs the connection of energy from hindquarter to hand, and necessitates bigger and bigger aids to keep it all going. Obviously, self carriage could never be achieved in this manner, and the horse will resort to leaning on the rider’s hand for support to balance himself.
     This brings us to the next difference between classical and modern dressage - cessation of the aids. In classical dressage the horse is schooled to respond promptly to a light aid. If, for instance, a leg aid is given and the horse does not move forward, the leg aid is backed up with a light tap of the whip. I should not have to use my leg nagging or spurring with every stride in order to achieve energetic movement. If an adjustment needs to be made to the horse’s balance, I half halt. I promptly release my half halt and allow the horse to carry on. I do not hold him up with my hand. I repeat these aids as often as necessary, but I go back to 'neutral' when the horse responds. In this way he is rewarded, and he learns to balance himself with the rider on of top him (self carriage). If I were to go on continually asking with leg and hand (driving and holding),  the horse would perceive this as so much ‘white noise’ and would only respond to my aids when I resorted to ‘screaming’.
     Which brings us to separation of the aids. We all know that a young horse should not be given a rein and a leg aid at the same moment. He is just learning the meaning of our aids, and this would confuse him (go and stop at once). As the horse progresses and our aids become more nuanced, they begin to meld and are given closer together, but still not at the exact same moment. Ideally there should be a split second between, let’s say,  leg and hand aids, or between using the inside and the outside rein. In this way we give the horse 'someplace to go'. He is not bombarded from all sides with various aids at once, which would lead only to tension. This obviously does not mean that we 'drop' the contact with the horse’s mouth, or that we remove entirely our leg from the horse, but they do not act continually, nor do they act at the same time. In between more specific requests from my legs (forward, sideways, bend) the legs remain lightly on the horse “like wet towels” as one author wrote. In between more specific rein aids (half halt with the outside rein, or more flexion please with the inside rein) there should be a constant tension on the outside rein. The inside rein may be quite light or even go slack as the horse gently bends around the rider’s inside leg, filling the rider’s outside rein. This is another difference between classical and modern dressage. Many dressage instructors (and even some judges) will admonish you for ‘loss of contact’ if they see the inside rein go slack (of course, if you’re one of the unfortunate riders holding your horse up with your hands, you’ll probably need to keep firm 'contact' on both reins in order not to wear your arms out too soon).
     Next, we come to one of the differences between classical and modern that I find most interesting - relaxation. Everyone will admit that relaxation is important (because it’s in the German training scale) but it’s not easy to find anyone who can give a definition of its equestrian meaning.  According to Nicole Bartle, who translated a number of classical works on horsemanship, the French word for ‘relaxation’ (if translated literally) would be something like ‘decontraction’. In other words, it is the opposite of ‘contraction’. It signifies an absence of sustained contraction of muscle during movement. When a muscle is used it contracts - it must then ‘decontract’ and remain in a toned and ready state (not become entirely slack) until called upon again. This applies to both horse and rider. When a muscle remains in a sustained state of contraction, it becomes fatigued. At best, this condition is unpleasant for both horse and rider and results in overall tension in both. At worst, it can result in soft tissue injury. Additionally, in order for the rider to maintain a 'relaxed' position, his core muscles will be engaged, but his joints will be 'open'. When a rider continuously uses his biceps muscle in order to give a rein aid, the joints of his shoulders, elbow, wrist and fingers will become tense or locked.  This continuous muscle tension and locked joints translates to the horse as tension in the jaw and poll, and can transfer down the horses neck to his back. When the rider continuously applies his leg, his continuously engaged gluteal muscles and the muscles of his upper thigh and calf  feel 'hard' and uninviting to the horse's back and sides. Likewise, his hip flexors, knees and ankles will not be 'open' and soft. When the rider adds to this a 'driving seat' the horse is more likely to want to drop his back away from all this pressure than to lift his back to meet the rider.  'Open' joints allow the rider to remain in continuous contact with the horse in an elastic and giving way while sitting deeply in the saddle. 'Closed' joints disable the rider's ability to yield and soften immediately when the horse yields and softens. This is why we see so many horses ridden in tension in the dressage arena.
     This brings me to the most fundamental of rider qualities - the rider's seat. I addressed leg and hand frequently in the above paragraphs (since we see so much riding from leg and hand) but in classical dressage, these aids should become refined until they are mere nuances, and the horse responds more to the rider's seat and weight aids. In order to attain this, the rider must have a classically correct seat, as the horse mirror's the rider. Correct rider seat also affects the rider's ability to aid correctly, since a rider who is sitting in a manner that interferes with the biomechanics of movement, will be unable to aid the horse with a well-timed, effective and light aid. I'm not actually going to describe a correct rider seat, since this could be the subject for a short book (I suggest the reader refer to Sylvia Loch's, The Classical Seat, or any number of classical works where correct rider position is always addressed). Instead, I will address two common defects seen in rider position in modern times which adversely affect the training of the horse (as well as looking most inelegant). The most common defect is a collapsed upper body and rounded shoulders. Many of us spend much time slumped over computers or desks, and little time in athletic pursuits. When we slump, we literally 'hang on our ligaments'. In other words, we do not engage the muscles which would hold our spines 'straight' and our bodies erect. Our muscles and ligaments become shortened in the area of our chest, and elongated near our scapula and upper backs, resulting in a slightly (or largely) hunched, round-shouldered posture (and in riding, sometimes a 'turkey neck', as the rider juts his head out at the atlas to counterbalance the weight of his shoulders). When we take this poor posture into our riding, a collapsed rider upper body causes the horse to collapse his 'upper body' (shoulders and forehand). In classical riding, the energy of the rider's upper body is up - and the horse comes with him: the rider's sternum is up, chest open, shoulders relaxed and back, rider thinking 'waist to hands'. This is not physically possible if the rider's shoulders are rounded and the chest 'closed' through poor daily posture.  The rider must first address these issues through exercises on the ground, since attempting to correct them only in the saddle may result in stiff shoulders and back. The next most common defect in rider seat is a collapsed pelvis. This often goes hand in hand with the collapsed upper back. The muscles which hold the pelvis upright are connected to the bottom of the ribcage. If the ribcage is collapsed (due to the collapse of the upper body) the rider does not have the control over his pelvis he needs in order to give a refined seat aid, and the pelvis may even rock forward and backward, tossed about by the movement of the horse's back. Thinking 'waist to hands' engages these muscles in a manner which holds the pelvis upright, but does not result in stiffness in the back. The core muscles are engaged, but the lower back remains entirely elastic. Additionally, the hip joints will open, allowing the rider’s legs to fall naturally. Not only do the above defects inhibit the rider's ability to give a refined aid, they make the rider feel even heavier on the horse's back. Many Warmbloods do a remarkably good job of carrying such a rider, but put our sack of potatoes on a less tolerant, highly sensitive horse, and immediately the horse will hollow his back away from the rider. Ideally, the energy of the rider's lower body should flow down from the pelvis, over the thighs and knees and through the balls of the feet (gravity working), just as the energy of his upper body is up. This allows the rider to adjust his pelvis and seat bones, using the weight of his seat as an aid. These minute, well timed seat aids are quite different from the misguided attempts by some riders to 'drive' their horse with their seat by bearing down on his back. Such efforts will only cause the horse to drop his back away from the discomfort, and some very sensitive horses may even come to a complete stop in protest (or possibly take off running in order to 'escape') .
     I'd like to address very briefly flexions, practiced  by some of the French classical school, and first used by Baucher in the 19th century to supple the horse's jaw and adjust his balance. I do not wish to become involved in the debate over flexions, except to say that they are not necessary to the correct schooling of the horse, and incorrect usage of them can cause problems in the foundation of the horse's schooling. Flexions, as they are practiced in the French tradition, should only be taught by and taught to, rider's with impeccable tact, impeccable timing, and an impeccable rider seat. Attempts by those with less education and less skill and tact often have horrible results, with the rider literally pulling his horse's head this way and that in order to 'supple' him. I've heard instructors ask students, "Well, you've seen a horse reach around to remove a fly from his side, haven't you?" I'd like to respond to that, "Yes, but only when the horse is at a complete standstill, never in motion, and never in an 'on the bit' outline". Since these rein aids are given by the tactless rider at random moments, the horse does not find them comprehensible and may even perceive them as punishment. The result is more front to back riding, the biomechanics of which are opposite to that of the horse who is over-flexed in his spine through the rider's harsh attempts to 'make the horse round' with his hands. Rather than leaning on the hand like the over-flexed horse, the horse who is aided with ill-timed flexions may come to distrust the rider's hand, thus disturbing the contact. Rather than an over-flexed spine, the horse may hollow his back as he lifts his head in response to over-active rider hands.  Personally, I have found that lifting one rein as a correction to a bulging or leaning shoulder, or to raise a dropped poll (if a half halt failed) can be a useful correction, but when it comes to asking the horse to remain relaxed in his jaw and poll, hands that aid in a sympathetic manner (quiet but ‘alive’) never fail to do wonders. As for making the horse’s back supple, only proper gymnastic work practiced over a period of time will actually strengthen and stretch muscles and ligaments. One cannot ‘supple’ the horse's back by pulling on his head any more than I can ‘supple’ my shoulders by pulling on my arm. Even if you feel a momentary ‘give’ in a horse’s ‘stuck’ position, this will not last, as you are not actually stretching the appropriate soft tissue. Oftentimes it is the ribcage which is ‘stuck’. Pulling on the horse’s head and neck do nothing to correct this in-balance and can only hinder long term efforts to straighten the horse. Only tactful riding of well planned exercises has lasting results. My advise: since innumerable master's of horsemanship have schooled horses without these means, I strongly advise rider's not to convince themselves that they are among the few who have the tact to use flexions to advantage, particularly if they have not been schooled in this over a long period of time by someone of this school.
     If all of this sounds rather complicated, that’s because it is. Dressage is not for the faint of heart, nor is it for the impatient or simple minded. One cannot learn dressage from a book, although study to understand theory is absolutely necessary. Once theory is understood, the rider must be able to feel it on the horse and then be able to practice it in schooling the horse. Likewise, when the rider feels something, he must go back to theory to understand what it is he feels. Most importantly,  he needs a well trained eye to tell him when he has ‘got it’. It’s a bit of a circular learning process, and since it’s so easy to misunderstand what one feels or to misinterpret what one reads, instruction from someone who themselves has gone through this process is absolutely necessary. Dressage is one of those disciplines where a little bit of knowledge is a very bad thing. If the horse is unable to comply with a request, the rider should look to himself first: is the rider sitting properly or unintentionally blocking with his body; did the rider ask in a manner the horse can understand (based on previous training); did the rider set up an exercise where the horse was in an optimal position to fulfill the request; most importantly, has the horse been prepared physically (and psychologically) for what was asked. Asking the horse to ‘yield’ to the rider’s aids is a basic part of training. That is precisely why someone with quite a bit of experience and education should oversee the training of the horse - so the rider knows when his request was given with tact, and when he has given it in a way that the horse is unable to comply. If your ‘dressage trainer’ continually blames your horse for a bad attitude - find another one. If your instructor offers you one ‘tool’ after another, but cannot tell you the purpose of what they ask (or you find there is no long term benefit) seek someone with better qualifications. Everyone and their sister offers dressage instruction today. Riders who otherwise have a lot of experience in other disciplines and  possibly some real talent, often consider themselves experts after taking a handful of dressage lessons, or even reading a book or two. The ability to confidently bellow out well appointed phrases may at first impress. Possibly such an instructor may even give helpful flat work lessons to a novice rider. But, the rider/owner should be aware that should they later wish to specialize in dressage, their horse will likely need some amount of re-schooling, and they will likely need to undo some bad habits which they’ve formed. Although the lower levels of dressage should constitute the basic training of every horse, this is not the case today. Be careful before entrusting your dream horse to one of our self-appointed experts. If any harm comes to your horse, their life will go on as usual, but you will be feel devastated and betrayed, and your equine companion may suffer lasting consequences.

Art & Sport: The Path vs. The Prize in Dressage

 www.lisascaglionedressage.com

There has been much debate of late over what constitutes correct horse training and how to recognize when training has crossed the line and become abuse. This is as it should be. A horse is a living creature whose manner of communicating is quite subtle - nearly entirely non-verbal. A horse does not purr or hiss like a cat. He will not bite like a dog when threatened. A horse’s only defense to a threat is to run. When this natural instinct is inhibited because of the presence of a rider on his back and a steel bit in his mouth, this instinct may be expressed in more extreme cases as rearing (horse cannot go forward, so goes up) or bucking (instinct to remove from his back something causing pain). In most cases the horse is slowly habitualized to discomfort, and he expresses this instinct as muscular tension, often accompanied merely by a look on his face of lack of ease. This is not to say that a happy horse never becomes momentarily tense, or a young horse never tests the boundaries, but a horse that habitually exhibits negative behavior or always looks distressed while ridden is most likely in some kind of state of panic or pain. I imagine that most people (if not all), who become involved with horses do so because of a genuine love and appreciation for the subtle beauty of the horse - both physical and spiritual. So how do things go so wrong? Why is there such an outcry today over the well being of some competition horses?
      To put it very simply, personally, I believe there is ‘good’ riding and there is ‘bad’ riding (although it is possible to be an ‘effective’ rider and not be a ‘good’ rider). There are legitimately different schools of riding, and riders would do well to know the differences in orientation between these schools when choosing an instructor. I will go into this more in my next blog, but these differences are real and do have a significant impact on the schooling of the horse. Having said that, I think it is true to say that within each tradition or school, those who are riding ‘well’ within one school have vastly more in common with those who are riding well in a any other school, than they do with  those who ride ‘badly’ amongst peers. Having gotten that out of the way, I would like to address the psychological and even spiritual (if you will humor me) reasons why someone who initially wanted nothing more than to ‘dance with a horse’ may be tempted to engage with horses in a manner that many consider abusive.
     I would like to begin that conversation with a quote, and will momentarily leave in blank parenthesis the subject:   “The first thing a [       ] must learn, if he aims to become an artist, is the art of relaxation. This means detachment, serenity, enjoyment of work for the sake of beauty, unconcern with success or failure, praise or criticism, in this sense, the power of the total concentration of the mind on the senses.”  The subject I have left out is the “rider” and the quote is taken from Udo Burger,  The Way to Perfect Horsemanship. This short quote sums up for me the motivation for a rider who specifically chooses Classical Dressage over any other ‘type’ of Dressage (be it called Modern, Competitive or German). It is the interior motivation which is at heart: a love of the creative process.  Michelangelo is reputed to have said that each piece of marble contained within itself the image that he would later ‘carve’ into it; as if the marble already contained all the inherent beauty that was its by nature, and by forming it, he was merely facilitating the process by which this natural beauty could be developed and manifested outwardly. The Classical rider sees the horse in much the same way. The horse already contains all the beauty which is his by creation. The rider seeks to unite himself with the horse both physically and psychologically in order to lead the horse in a way that allows him even greater expression of what is already his. We should say, the horse does not really need this (all he really wants is to eat grass safely in the company of his mates) but he cooperates with this process quite freely, and even with great pride in his own abilities, if he is led by his rider in a manner that is empathetic, kind and reasonable. The rider’s ‘goal’ here is not an actual goal, but it is similar to the way a Pilgrim views a spiritual journey: it is one of self knowledge, growth and in a way, enlightenment. The Classical rider has much in common with Western mystics and Eastern masters of martial arts in this regard. Curiously, I came to this idea on my own, but was excited to learn later that I was not the first to have thought this. In practical terms, Classical riding is about schooling the horse toward greater collection. In the psychological and spiritual realm, it is about self discovery and the actualization of the creative process. This means there is little incentive to see the horse as an ‘object’ along the way - only the contrary. The reason Classical riders are so particular about developing a correct rider seat is because this artistry can only be actualized if the horse and rider are in complete harmony. In other words: the rider is not an entity balancing upon another entity in an effort to influence it. The rider seeks to merge his center of gravity with the horse’s center of gravity, leading the horse through space much like a dancer leading his partner. The horse must be a willing participant in this, and any amount of force whatsoever (even if it is merely psychological pressure, to say nothing of actual physical force) would pollute this relationship. The horse is developed toward greater balance according to his own talents and abilities, but there is no specific ‘grand prix  (top prize)’ to be aimed for. I am not claiming there are more ‘good’ classical riders than any other school (in fact there are few who truly are Classical), but the motivation to use the horse as an object to achieve a goal is minimized, so the motivation to slip into abusive training methods is also minimized.
     Every one of us loves a good sportsmen, myself included. I good sportsman generally has natural talent which he develops with a single mindedness that most people can only look upon with awe and wonder. When competing, a good sportsman pours every once of energy and will into being the best and trying to win. When they achieve this, they will often graciously acknowledge those who’ve contributed to the attainment of their dream, and might even offer humble encouragement to those who haven’t achieved theirs. In other words, they are able to achieve the goal of ‘being the best’ without negative interference from the Ego, and without considering themselves ‘better‘. Someone who is a good athlete, but not a good sportsman, may be haughty and may even use illegal means to win at any cost. The attainment of the goal of ‘being the best’ has become an expression of Ego. In spiritual terms, Ego is the inclination in man to use his mind, will and energy for self aggrandizement - in other words, to attain power, wealth, or admiration.  The pitfall for equestrian sports is that both the rider and the horse are athletes. One does not compete without the other, but the horse is not an inanimate object like a pair of skis. A skier cannot compete without skis, but if he fails to care for his skis, he may in good conscience dispose of them and simply buy a new pair. If he trains to the point of injuring his own body, we feel sorry for him, but recognize that he is a mature adult making informed decisions about his own priorities in life. From a philosophical point of view, the sport horse is the object which a rider requires in order to attain a very specific goal, such as winning or placing. I should interject here, that many competitive riders love their horses and take impeccable care of them, not only because of their high economic value, but also out of genuine concern for their well being. But, the fact that the horse is the object needed to achieve a coveted goal could be a slippery slope for someone who does not possess natural humility, is not in touch with their innermost motivations, or lacks a high degree of natural empathy. Only sociopaths harm other living beings for the pleasure of doing so. The rest of us do harm to others when we become so focused on our own desires, that we convince ourselves that what we do is absolutely necessary or actually has some positive outcome for all. We generally move incrementally toward destructive behavior. We make one small compromise, followed by another, and in this way are able to pretend that there are no ill effects to our behavior. In fact, we seek reasons why it is all quite justifiable or even somehow good. One only has to watch the nightly news to know that the world is full of such blindness, and to see the extremes this mindset can lead to.
     In spiritual terms, we know a thing by its fruit. In equestrian terms, the horse is always right. In other words, if the horse is consistently ‘unwilling', consistently looks tense and unhappy, grinds its teeth, swishes his tail, kicks the wall, bucks or rears, etc., it is either physically uncomfortable or in pain, psychologically tense or scared, or all of this. Were a human being to be compressed by sharp and painful objects into a position unnatural for the human body and held there over time, we would call this torture, even if he didn‘t utter a cry in protest. I am in no way saying that competitive riding is a bad thing. It can be quite beautiful and exciting. I am merely saying that the goal of attaining prizes presents some psychological and spiritual challenges that every rider should be aware of, myself included. I am also suggesting that the sport of dressage might be more popular if there were no controversies. Even those who don’t ride can recognize the difference between a tense horse with a strained or pained look on it’s face (ridden through force), and one (in self-carriage) working its heart out to please his rider and maybe even showing off to spectators. I am certainly not suggesting that someone should be censured because of the look on their horse’s face, but I do think that all trainers and horse owners should be intimately involved in the conversation about how to safeguard the well being of competition horses (or all horses for that matter, because the ill effects of human ambition on horses is not reserved to those who compete). I do understand that it would be in poor taste for a competitive rider to name names. But, it only helps dressage as a sport when everyone has the courage to be involved in the conversation about: what constitutes abuse, how to recognize it, how to prevent it, and especially how to assure that riders are properly educated horsemen and women - in the classical sense. A good competitive rider is also an artist. A classical rider is also an athlete. A horse is first and foremost a horse. By remembering that love of riding and a unique appreciation for the inherent beauty and power of  horses is at the heart of all equestrian activity, we could do much to work together to improve the lives of some of our mute equine friends, who add such a wealth of benefit to our lives, and without whom there would surely be an empty spot unfillable by any other living being.