Things I’m thinking about:
1.
Riding Merc yesterday, I was thinking about how the more stoic horses, or those we might consider to the heavier types, can lead us to make assumptions about use of pressure. That is easy to assume that they will be less sensitive, or mobile or responsive because of a more solid body and a tendency towards freeze rather than flight.
I think about how, with humans and with horses, I’m always considering balance and wellbeing elementally. That a predominance of earth, for example, within someone’s constitution does not need more of the same heaped on top. In fact, what they need is to have that met with appropriate amounts of fire and air.
I look at the constitution of Merc’s body and see physically, he’s predominantly the earthy type. Bigger bones, a more solid frame. Wide, cupped feet that travel easily over ground. Observing this, it would be easy to overlook his sensitivity, and the accompanying predominance of air.
Air in a constitution, as the state itself suggests, travels quickly. It is light, ethereal, prone to change. A balance of air allows for lightness; too much and we become most likely anxious. We literally and metaphorically lose our anchor to the ground.
Understanding this about my lovely horse, allows me to ride and be around him with more nuance. I need to offer lightness, in order that physically he may find it in return. His appearance of the strong and solid type need not delude me that I need to cultivate an energy of the same.
At the same time, his lightness of mind means I need to act with a grounded-ness and certainty. Hands on the body to keep him within the edges of his skin. Clarity of intention. Allowing for generous amounts of time to work things out.
2.
I continually remind myself that thoughts are instructions. That my brain is designed to cue my body to behave in specific ways. That I do not have to force or coerce; I simply have to ask.
Bringing attention to a particular part of the body is not an exercise in bringing consciousness to that place, as we so often think; it’s a remembrance of the consciousness that’s already there.
When I make requests of my body in this way, I am reminded of the inherent and benevolent wisdom that’s ever present within me.
When I sense into my body, my conscious thought and my unconscious knowing meet.
As I ride a circle, I tell my centreline, the balance line of my body, to arc in the same way as the horse. She does her best to follow my instruction.
3.
I’m thinking that our body is a container that can be breached. How many of us think that accepting, recognizing limitations is a failing, or a product of limited thinking, rather than a necessary acceptance of the reality of life that we’re all in conversation with.
The nervous system itself is not a plateau but an edge. We do not rest on flat and stable ground. Instead, we are traversing fault lines, climbing valley’s, looking out over the peaks of mountains.
We look out over the edge and decide, is it safe for us to step over or should we go back?
The nervous system as an ever changing edge.
Onwards,
❤️ Jane
