Where are the spaces you can practice not being perfect?
This is about our time with our horses, but to get there, I’m going to speak to you of art.
For the last thirty years, I held the belief that I wasn’t good at drawing. Not only ‘not good at it’ but any movement towards creating art beyond a casual doodle made me quite cross.
The clear vision in my head never materialised, and I found the experience left me frustrated and tight, rather than free and expressive (the qualities I would have liked to have brought to the page).
The thing was, I really wanted to draw. My grandmother was a botanical artist, and I wanted to cultivate similar skills to match those I so appreciate. My heart carried this desire as a yearning. So, a couple of years back- seemingly randomly and despite these past experiences- I decided to begin.
I can’t tell you what exactly brought about this change- to go from someone who never draws to someone who draws every day- but I credit it to the work I teach generally.
*I* had changed, my perspective had changed, and I had cultivated a skill which is the most important one that you can have: the willingness to let yourself learn.
The willingness to let yourself *do* without caring what the end result looks like.
And I really started to have fun. Drawing, painting, sketching is a space where I can practice not being perfect. And I’ve found myself asking, how can I bring this ease to my writing? How can I bring this ease to my horses?
That experience- of play, of experimentation, of leaving something that clearly isn’t working and starting again- now lives in my body as a felt sense and I carry her with me wherever I go.
When I first asked myself this question- where are the spaces you can practice not being perfect? – it hit me that creating art for me is now that place. The worst thing that can happen is I make something that’s visually not appealing. And I can meet any thoughts or judgements I have about myself along the way and reconcile them in a space where nothing or no-one is compromised.
I’ve been thinking a lot lately how many of us have our horses as the sole focus of our passions or “hobbies” (I know they are so much more than this, but I will use now imperfect words to illustrate what I mean). I wonder how healthy this is. It seems like a lot of pressure.
I think how it is we need places and spaces to show up in free flow. To recognize the not-good-enough-tightness, and the perfectionist demons. To greet them with kindness, then turn up the music and cover them in paint.
It’s easy for us to say ‘I don’t expect to be perfect’ with my horse. I don’t either. But with our horses, we do have a duty of care. Our actions *do* matter.
And it’s worth thinking about how to embrace those shadow parts of ourselves far away from their side.
It’s worth thinking about the spaces you move in that allow you to be truly free, and if you don’t have them, how to create them.
If you have something you avoid because you have told yourself you’re not good at it, that’s probably a solid clue of where to start.
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On Letting Yourself Have The Experience
I’ve been thinking how to start this blog and it’s been coming out in quite a clunky way. So instead of waiting for the words to feel more beautiful, I’ve surrendered. We’re going to go through this together like we’re chatting as we drive a bumpy road.
You drive, I’ll ride shotgun.
So, here’s the thing. Most of us have ‘a thing’ we want to move through.
Something, if you like, we want to ‘get over’. A situation we want to leave behind that makes itself known with recurring feeling, its own special type of ground hog day. The type that’s frustrating and bewildering.
Maybe it’s a trauma, of large or small design. Where we remember how we were ‘before’ in a way that feels so different to right now.
Possibly: A situation that’s caused a bruising of our heart, a bruising of our mind, that we carry round like a heavy, loaded backpack and can’t find a way to put back down.
And yet.
And yet, we find ourselves resilient. We don’t take this lying down. We’re out there doing stuff. Despite not knowing how to deal with it. Despite not knowing how to move through it- we still try.
And we find:
We learn more about ourselves. Maybe ways to deal with thoughts when they’re quite negative. Ways to manage our body when we feel tight. Perhaps we learn about the breath. We feel in many ways we ARE different. And yet when we show up with our horse or with that person or in that situation, the whole *thing* plays out yet again.
And then:
We feel deflated, like we’re right back at the start.
But here’s the thing. To create a new pattern. To have a new experience. To really let yourself be new…
You have to allow yourself to have the experience that’s true for this moment.
You have to let yourself be in what’s real for the here and now.
It’s just like going on a bear hunt (if you have no idea what I’m talking about here, I’m referring to the children’s book)…
… there’s no way over it.
… there’s no way under it.
…there’s no way around it.
…you have to go through it.
Where I find a lot of people despair is when they find themselves amid recurring, negative feeling and define that as a failure.
But it’s so far away from that.
Being IN that feeling—allowing yourself to have the experience that you want to change, avoid, or reconcile—is a necessary part of the alchemy.
The start point has to be where you are now. All the tools and support you have (in most cases) won’t do much to change that (if we’re speaking of a well established pattern).
If you’ve been nervous, then nervous is the start point.
If there is an experience that relates to a trauma from the past, then that’s where we begin.
We don’t avoid it or mistake it for something not being right.
We take our new tools and support WITH us to that place, and it’s from that point change really can begin.
To create anything new, you have to let yourself have the experience you are in right now.
You have to let yourself have the experience.
Onwards,
xx Jane
A photo from the weekend taken by the lovely Claudia (thank you!).
Why Do You Ride?
I was listening to a talk by Clarissa Pinkola Estes and within the conversation she quoted a scene from an old film called The Red Shoes- a film about a ballerina.
In it, a man asks the ballerina, ‘Why do you dance?’
And she replies, ‘Why do you want to stay alive?’
He replies, ‘Well, I’m not exactly sure, I just know that I must!”
to which she says, “That is my answer also”.
There are many reasons why I ride and write, my two favourite loves, but the most pressing is simply, I just know that I must.
This, I believe, is the urgency of the creative spirit, a spirit we are lucky to all have, no matter whether we currently find it to be an ember or a fire.
For whatever reason, we just know that we must.
Onwards,
❤️ Jane
It’s Ok To Take Yourself Seriously (truly)
Back when I was a teenager- or at least on the cusp of teenage-ness, probably around 13 years old, my parents bought me a horse who was called Minnie. At that stage of my life, Minnie was beyond anything I had allowed myself to dream. She was beautiful, the colour of red burnished treacle. I used to run my hands over her coat, marvel at her sheen.
Despite her inherent and regal loveliness, the fact that she strutted round as though she was a Queen (side note: she was), Minnie was not without her quirks. She was sensitive and feisty. The charisma that she carried, the air of whatever it is that makes a horse stand out meant I had to work to harder, learn more, step up to be the kind of horseperson that really met her standard.
But I was in love, had time and was up to the task. I got up to muck out early, cleaning paddocks before school, and as soon as the bus arrived at our corner, around 4:30 pm, my bag would be flung to the side, I would change out of my school uniform, and you’d find me in the paddock, in the arena, riding round the farm, always in the company of my beloved horse.
At this stage of my life, my family had started competing. It seems funny to look back on – my horsing adventures seem so removed from this kind of life now- but at the time I loved it, and it allowed us to travel round and have many experiences together as a family.
When I think about my competition life, or if someone asks me to describe it, I would say I was a nervous competitor, yes (that anxiety was, in part, the reason that I have the business that I do now), but I was also fierce. The anxiety was less about a specific fear and more about the fact I took what I was doing very seriously. I took myself and my horse seriously. And I did so long before anyone else did.
There’s a part of me that loves and most definitely roots for the underdog. There was a showing class at the Sydney Royal Show where there were over 80 horses in my class (a thriving era in agricultural scenes which seems to have taken a tumble in the years of late). The showing world is known for being subjective and political. I was told: ‘you don’t have a chance. No-one knows you. But you know, you can at least go out there and have fun.’
This particular story has a fairy tale ending- lord knows, we know they so often don’t. But Minnie and I- we won that class. With the 80 something horses. All the words of “you can’t do it” ignited something within my head. I believed in my horse and beyond that, loved her with intensity. Maybe she felt that. Maybe we just got lucky. But it still stands regardless as one of the best moments of my life.
The actor, Ethan Hawke- one of the Patron Saints of creativity- talks about how moved he was listening to a speech by the wife of one of his recently passed away screen writing heroes. To quote the article speaking to the same in the New York Times:
“She looked out at the crowd and laughed. She said John Cassavetes was always disappointed because nobody would finance his movies; he’d always felt dismissed and disregarded. “‘And now here you guys are making a big deal out of him,’” he remembered her saying. She said that was nice, but that they shouldn’t miss the point. “‘Make a big deal of yourself.’ You know? Whatever indifference the world gives you, he felt it, too. So you’re just as good as he is. Like, go out and do it.”
I believe this to be true, not because I’ve read it, but I’ve lived it. I have no idea why the seed exists inside me, but I hope it exists within you too. And if it doesn’t, please make it your mission today to start to find it.
I took my riding seriously long before anyone else did. I took my business seriously years before it earned me a single dollar (and I continue to take it seriously through all the ups and downs). As a writer, who hopes to share experiences of wonder and is moved to write as part of her love letter to the world, I take my words seriously, regardless of the numbers who read them in return.
I take it all seriously- which is different to gruffly, or holding on too tightly, or being arrogant and not humble- because they are all important to me. They are part of my vitalis, my vitality, and the sharing of what it is I love.
Taking yourself seriously is important. It’s, in part, the curative for self-doubt. It is the thing that needs to happen, before and not after, someone else takes you seriously. And perhaps, most importantly, it’s what allows you to create a life that is lived on your terms. In developing self-trust.
Take yourself, the things you love seriously. But as a start point- not as a thing you get to at the end.
Taking yourself seriously is what allows you to devote time and to keep showing up for all the things you love.
It’s ok, you know, to make a big deal of yourself.
Onwards,
JanePictured is me and Minnie at the Sydney Royal Easter Show 
Brain Maps & The Unlearning Process
Honestly, if you are feeling a bit down on yourself, struggling with your horse, or finding that the Itty Bitty Sh*tty Committee is speaking to you today with particular ferocity, the best antidote I can provide you with is to learn a bit more about what actually makes you tick. And I mean that literally.
Let’s talk about your brain for a moment.
Your brain has a series of maps that are dedicated to a specific set of functions. You have a map for more tangible things, like the position of your bones and your organs, and you have maps for more abstract things, like language, or specific skills, like riding your horse.
To keep it simple, a brain map is a network of neural connections in the brain that are dedicated to a particular function. Scientists used to think that each map or location was fixed and that if that area remained unused or got damaged it simply withered away but the reality is this is very far from the case. In fact, the nerves and neural networks of your brain go out of their way to make themselves useful. So, if you aren’t using them for the purpose that they are designed, they simply… find another job. They go to another part of the brain where they CAN be used, or at least help support the part of your brain that is serving a particular function or purpose.
It’s because of this that some brain maps get bigger (we are simply paying more attention to them and using them more) and some get smaller (for the opposite reason).
This phenomenon actually has a proper, grown-up name. It’s called Competitive Plasticity. It’s the reason that if we have a break from riding and come back to it, it might feel like we’ve lost our edge. And it’s also the reason why the art and process of becoming proficient at a new movement or skill is more about unlearning than anything else.
Let’s break both of those down…
In the case of having a break:
If you stop riding for a while (which essentially is exercising a certain skill), the brain map dedicated to that particular function gets handed over to something else. It’s not that you’ve forgotten how to do it as such. It’s more that your brain is very functional, and uses that brain map real estate for something that you are currently using more.
The question of “how often do I need to ride to keep things ticking over in the same way?” is essentially asking “how often do I need to ride for my brain to preserve its current brain map dedicated to riding before it gives it to something else?
If you or your horse is “rusty”, you’re looking at a brain map change.
In the case of learning a new skill:
In many cases, we think of learning as dropping new bits of information into a container, but it’s moreso about adjusting brain maps. The information that you hold onto and value currently takes up a certain real estate in your brain, and in order to learn something new, we have to be willing to let something go. I don’t mean this metaphorically- it’s very literal. You have to be willing to hand over a part of your brain map to something new, which means letting go of the real estate it currently takes up.
That’s why learning is as much, if not more, about un-learning. The maps that are currently dominant need to move aside to let something else take root.
How amazing, and fascinating, is your brain.
Onwards.
❤️ Jane
Raising Resilient Children
{This week, I asked my JoyRide members if they had any questions or thoughts they would like me to share in my daily posts. My musings this week are based on what they presented & the inspiration they provided.}
“Can you talk about raising kids & helping them to develop a healthy way to deal with emotions from day one?”
In my opinion, raising healthy kids has everything to do with taking care of your own nervous system & emotional health. I really believe that’s the biggest service that you can provide for your children.
This is the trajectory that I consider:
Each child is gifted with their mother’s nervous system. The experience of a natural birth provides a reset of sorts as the pressure & squeezing of the birth canal provides enough stimulus to give the system a reboot.
From there, as my child grows & develops, they are mimicking, copying my motor patterns; the way I hold my body, the way I walk, my gestures, my responses. If I understand that every motor pattern has its own emotional imprint, I can see that as a child bases its physical patterns on mine, they also “inherit” my emotional patterns.
Our children then not only base their own systems on ours, as the process of unconscious development unfolds, but they react to ours also. So as we both move through our lives together, the more, as a mother, I can understand myself; the more I can move myself into a mode of parasympathetic dominance, the greater influence I will be. The more stabilising, the better model, the healthier presence.
So if something is presenting that I find upsetting or challenging, the liberation exists in being able to identify myself as the change agent. & within that, I have to unravel any survival patterning that lives within the people-pleasing realm, or sets up a victim/rescuer dynamic so that I don’t play the part of seeking to “fix” someone or something else; I empower myself, & in that process, I empower others.
Onwards.
❤️ Jane
{NB: I recognize that childbirth & raising are loaded issues. I have mentioned natural birth here from the standpoint of the physiological effect it has on the nervous system; my opinion is that any birth that results in the safe delivery of the baby & the health of mum is the best one. There are also some specific factors that sit differently in this discussion, so please take this as a general overview. & what’s more, the plasticity of our brain & the way our nervous system is wired means that nothing is fixed; everything & everyone is changeable at each & every point).
Honouring Your Thinking Needs
As someone with an active and enquiring mind, an important part of my day involves feeding myself in ways that satisfy my intellectual curiosity. When it comes to navigating stress cycles, we hear a lot about the importance of movement and exercise, but less so about the energy created (and stored) by the build-up of mental energy that isn’t channeled to productive purpose.
Searching minds who love to learn need outlets to direct their energy too. Without them, the residual energy builds in the same way that it does in a body that needs to move and finds it can’t, and then… it mutates.
If you are frustrated, anxious, feeling out of sorts, as part of a holistic process of enquiry, I would ask if you are tending to your “thinking needs” in the way that they need to be tended to? Do you have an outlet for your energies, for self-expression and for creativity?
What I’m speaking of here is very separate to the compulsion to keep busy. Instead, it’s the recognition that for those of us who love to learn and seek and question, the energy that presents is very real and needs to be tended to as such.
Onwards.
❤️ Jane
