October 1st 2022
“The impeded stream is the one that sings.”
Excerpt from Our Real Work by Wendell Berry
I started riding Ivy about 6 weeks ago, and we’ve been out about once a week. She’s been a very willing partner, even though she’s a little unsure about this whole riding deal - and rightly so. This week we started cantering and it was pretty messy. She struggled to find a comfortable stride, and so I struggled to find my balance, and we both fumbled our way through it. We tried it again a few days later and there were definitely some comfortable moments. We would find a rhythm and then fall back apart. Being on a horse that’s still learning how to carry a rider is totally new to me. From what I hear, it takes a lot of balance and different muscles to canter with a rider, and so it takes a bit of time and practice to smooth off the rough edges and to fall into a natural easy gait.
One night this week I popped into a yoga class on my way home and found myself trying (as I do every time I attend) to make my way into a pose, where you balance your body weight on your hands. (It’s called “crow” if you were wondering.) The first time I tried it I actually balanced for a second or two, so I went up again, and balanced for another moment. Feeling excited about my progress, I went up one more time, and completely lost balance and fell forward barely catching myself with my arm, making a big stir in the room and sufficiently embarrassing myself. No one around me seemed to notice or mind, and it’s not an uncommon occurrence.
I think quite often our physical expressions reflect what’s happening underneath the surface. As Ivy builds confidence, and muscle and balance she’s going to find cantering easier, and the day will come where it feels effortless. Likewise, I continue to tell myself that there will eventually be a day where “crow” is not my nemesis, where I don’t envision myself face planting, and instead it’s just a simple movement, with no expectation or pressure lurking behind it.
When we brush up against challenges we learn how capable we truly are. And isn’t the challenge part of what makes something worth doing? Musicians are a prime example. Some people have a lot of natural talent, and others find themselves in the practice room all hours of the night. When I took piano in college for my music minor my professor loved me. She would often say she wished students who were majoring in music practiced as much as I did. I never admitted to her that I could barely read music, and therefore had to practice until I had memorized every piece. But there’s something innate in rooting for someone who’s had to work hard to find a bit of progress. (I say progress, opposed to success here, with good reason.)
So perhaps it will take me months to balance in Crow, and perhaps you won’t see Ivy and I cantering in the dairy for a while. I’m sure you’ve each run into your own challenges with some physical limit, a relationship that’s requiring more from you than you’d anticipated, or bumping into frustration at work or school, but when you do see progress (and you will) it will be more rewarding because of it. One day things that felt insurmountable will have become routine with time, practice and patience. The only thing I know to do is to focus on small moments of progress, to hold onto each one reverently, and hope that the stones in my path always encourage me to sing.