A Loss

Last week, someone meaningful to me passed away.  Not from Covid-19 (oh, how I'm so tired of that being the assumed cause of death for anyone in the last three months!!), but from the COPD that she had been challenged with for the last almost 20 years.  I may have mentioned her here a time or two as my 'dressage fairy godmother'.

Which is sort of true, but also at times so misleading, as she was quite a taskmaster who made me earn every single thing I gained from her.  She was a perfectionist, that's true, and yet she also was tender-hearted and wished to help others. But you had to qualify!

This post is in her honor. She never married or had children, and is survived by a small family belonging to her brother.  They are one part of her legacy. The other part, from whom her family members are totally separate, is the dressage world and those she touched via her importing and breeding of Holsteiner horses and those that were fortunate enough to have been her students.

Although I knew her for a long time (we met in March 1990), I was her last student.  And how honored I am to be able to say that.  Certainly not her best student, as I know my inconsistency in taking lessons and prioritizing my riding often frustrated her to no end.  But, I did have a family to raise, and a husband, all of  whom  had to come first before my horse(s), and there were times when I was out of the saddle for months at a time trying to juggle things.

It took many years for me to 'qualify' to be her student.  My first lesson with her wasn't until 2001!  She was pretty particular in who she would teach.  No children, and no beginners, for sure.  She preferred students who were devoted to the art of dressage and would take weekly lessons, if not even more often.  As the demands of her farm and her declining health took her out of the saddle, kept her home instead of away teaching clinics-- therefore out of the spotlight-- and eventually kept her from being able to teach regularly, other students moved on.  If I can be brutally honest, that's probably why I, with my on-again off-again riding pattern, even got a chance to take lessons.  First and foremost, she loved to teach.  And there I was, waiting my opportunity to learn.

Out of the saddle, through the years as a barn employee, I learned volumes from her on horse care, various aspects of farm maintainence and management, and horse psychology.  It was a valuable education in itself; one that has opened many doors for me at many other horse farms through the years. 

In the saddle, I learned not just riding theory, but also tons about the physics and mechanics of both the rider's and horse's bodies, and how best to unite them for the greatest results.  I also increased in compassion, as she had been a student of Chuck Grant (for you non-horse and/or non-dressage people, Chuck Grant is known as the Father of American Dressage, being one of the first in the US to train and show in the discipline) and when it came to training horses embodied his mantra of "Ask often, expect little or nothing and reward generously."  She instilled in me patience with my horse, and immediate and generous praise for the littlest attempt at doing what I was (trying to) ask the horse to do.  Because riders, as you know, it's always you that needs fixing first and a horse should never be punished for their unfavorable response to a confusing or incorrect aid.

I wish I had been able to watch her ride more, but in my earliest days of knowing her, when she was still riding and training horses, I was a worker bee, just a stable hand with a million tasks to achieve, and no time to stand around gawking when she was riding in the outdoor arena.  And if she was in the indoor arena, you better not disturb her, even if the world was coming to an end.  Any long-time employee of hers was equipped to deal with Armageddon without interrupting her ride.

The very few times I was able to actually watch her ride, ironically it was on my own horse.  During lessons when I was just so uncoordinated and fumbling and confusing my horse to the point where she would say "How about I get on?"

Now, if your trainer asks to ride your horse, you sure as heck say YES because this is going to be one huge learning opportunity for you, plus your horse gets some high level training that you're apparently not capable of giving right then.  

Every single time she mounted my horse, as soon as she settled into the saddle, you could immediately see the horse's demeanor change.  Not just it's attitude; the horse's body also changed.  Somehow, just by the contact in the saddle, the horse was transformed by her.  I always wished that I could have the same effect.

Many years later, I do.  People now see me sit a horse and are awed in much the same way I was awed.  My seat, my body, now has the feel that tells a horse "okay, listen up, this is what we're going to do!" and the horse is willing and obedient in a relaxed way.

What a legacy she gave me!  

She was brilliant.  Even when her health declined to the point she was housebound and could no longer make it to the arena to give me lessons, I would describe to her an issue I was having under saddle: what I did, what the horse did and felt like, and she most of the time could dissect the problem and tell me the cure. Without even seeing me ride!  

When it came time for me to move on to other trainers, and I wasn't sure how to know who was a good one and who was one not so aligned with the classical training I sought, she gave me some words of wisdom:

Take what you know to be true, and examine new teachers in light of those truths.

In other words, look at how they ride, look at how their students ride, look at how those horses they are riding react, and the proof will be in the pudding.  If you don't like what you see, if what you hear goes against what your foundation is, that trainer will not be the one for you.

While my mentor, my dressage fairy godmother, may no longer be here on earth, just a phone call or short drive away, she will always be with me.  She lives on in my riding.  Imbued with her wisdom of experience, I am also knowledgeable.  My task is to take that wisdom and knowledge, and use if for the good of every horse I encounter, as well as pass along that wisdom to another generation of riders.