Attention to Attention

I’m starting to feel like an invalid. After almost six weeks dealing with my foot, I rushed around, yet again, dragging a huge tree around the store and to my truck, and strained my back. 

When people look at what you’re doing with HUGE ASS eyes, you’re probably doing something, possibly, maybe kind of stupid. At the very least, you should stop, breathe, and consider your actions. 

I was too impatient to wait for the help that was coming. Or get a flatbed. Or call my husband. So many other possibilities. 

My punishment, let’s call it a reminder of that lesson life is trying to teach me, is riding my horse with a painful foot AND back. 

When we showed up for our lesson, I warned my trainer that I now had TWO impediments, but also Ibuprofen on board. (There will be a day, hopefully soon, that I show up with no health issues. I can’t wait for that day.)

We continue to work on bringing Tweed’s energy down, and that starts from moment one. We were in the arena lunging him, and whenever he put his attention somewhere else, I immediately disengaged his hind and brought him to a stop facing me. However, Regina wanted me to do it as we are doing in saddle, quietly, and let him find it.

In practice, he is at the trot on a line, and I approach his hind, as I do when I ask for the stop, but as soon as he slows down, I extend my hand out, as if inviting him to move on, but at a walk. Sound confusing? It was for him, too. But when he figured out what I was asking, we got some beautiful trot to walk and stop transitions.

In saddle, it was much of the same work in vertical flexion. We worked on smoother transitions and floaty, rounded movements. Since my back hurt, I was much more incentivized to post smoothly and not herky jerky. (I was trying to look at the bright side.)

Tumbleweed is so mature this year. He wasn’t in the mood to work yesterday, and he was looking for excuses to be flighty, like the brailing mule at the park. But I was able to get his attention back with so very little effort. I didn’t even canter him on the line. My trainer asked if I thought he needed it to run off some steam, and I said no, I felt his attention was where I wanted it and I could do the rest in saddle. She agreed. 

The key to everything is their attention. These lessons have drilled that into me. What does attention look like? How do I get it and keep it? And how quickly can I spot when I’ve lost it and correct. 

It has to happen early and fast, but those corrections can be so very soft if they have real purpose. In fact, they seem to accomplish so much more the softer they are, as it brings down the energy he’d rather amp up.

Regina has some new SOFT exercise for me to try at every lesson. Her philosophy has been perfect for Tumbleweed and me. It’s all about the partnership. Paying attention to attention. 

Come to think of it, I need to apply these lessons to my entire life. Less rush and buck, and more deliberate concentration. 

Exactly what life (and Regina) are trying to teach me. Slow. It. Down.