Letting go of the reins

Presence, trust and learning to move with life rather than control it.

Hello you

‘You are ok for the preparation?’ he asked. Ok? I thought. I’ve been tacking up horses since before I started school. My poor mother nearly had a heart attack at the sight of her toddler tying an unbroken Shetland pony to a wooden fence, climbing aboard and shouting, ‘I’m on!’

‘Oui,’ I replied politely. ‘C’est bien.’ It felt amusing how insulted I was. I noticed a faded teenage version of myself stick her nose up in the air and cross her arms in a huff. She wanted me to say things like I’ve been riding forever, I know what I’m doing and I can show you videos of me riding at horse of the year show, coming in second no less, if you’re not certain about me. There was a distinct separation between us, her and I. Was she a memory? A manifestation of my ego?

Noticing allowed me to resist her clutches in the present moment. Be a beginner Jess, I said. Start over. Surrender.

I chose presence over control in this moment. Maybe I wouldn’t be ok with the preparation. The saddles could be different, the process more or less refined than I was used to. This was the most familiar territory to me, horses were the only language I should speak fluently in France - but also unfamiliar. New words I didn’t understand. People who felt like strangers. The smell though, that was exactly the same.

I opened Cirrus’ stable door. He was a beautiful bay gelding, young looking and very nice I was assured. Clearly a bit of a heartthrob, a few of the girls had told me how lucky I was and one even had him as her screensaver. ‘My love,’ she called him complete with a breathless swoon. I could see why. He had such kind eyes to start with. You can always tell a horses’ personality from their eyes. His were deep, dark and softly rounded. No white. No wildness. He breathed slowly too. My favourite thing about horses is how engulfing their natural presence is. You can’t help but be in the moment with them. They draw you in like a magnet.

Even Cirrus was unsure of me. He didn’t want me to brush his face or put his head collar on, choosing to spin around his stable instead and try to touch the beams with his nose. Indeed I would have to prove myself, from the ground up. I wasn’t in my usual riding environment anymore. My beloved Oscar and Teddy were nowhere to be seen. This wasn’t the English countryside. It was Paris and I was a nobody here.

Horses are great levellers if nothing else. They don’t see status, experience or awards; they only feel energy and I was remind of this abruptly. Once I let go of the need for this to go a certain way, or any way I started to enjoy the experience. Cirrus didn’t trust me yet. Why would he? We’d have to get to know one another and I accepted this reality. This is the magic of horse riding; two souls moving as one. It’s the kind of magic that requires surrender.

Time slowed down now. Unrushed, grounded and instinctual. The bridle was buckled, feet were picked out and then it was time for phase two.

When entered the arena I walked us towards the mounting block. David, my instructor said, ‘we always mount this way here.’

‘Ok,’ I nodded and quietly placed it by Cirrus’s front legs. Up I went. One leg over and all of a sudden I had my favourite view in the world again. I was living life between the ears. Trusting a horse is like trusting life - you can’t control everything. You might trick yourself into thinking you can but in a split second there’s a reminder you’re astride a half ton animal that will not do anything it doesn’t want to. You have to move with it.

I tuned into the vulnerability of learning something new, in allowing yourself to be a beginner - whether it’s a new something or an old something and how adulthood rarely allows for it. We’re supposed to know everything by this stage in life. It’s not generally considered as the time to pick up hobbies, start learning or begin again so we veer away from it. I think this is such a shame. The beginner experiences I’ve had as an adult have been some of the most enriching and educational of my life. This was no exception.

Cirrus had a smooth even pace. Unhurried and uncontained. He moved as he wanted, how it felt good and natural. It soon became clear I was trying to push him more than he was capable, my teenage self reappearing once more. David saw this and shouted, ‘he’s not supple! He’s kind but not supple’. Cirrus was reflecting back to me what I needed to learn. Slow down he was saying, relax and let’s just enjoy being here. I’m not a perfected show pony like you’re used to but that doesn’t mean we can’t enjoy our time together. Again I had to surrender. I realised how much I’d missed all that horses have to teach me, and the joy they bring to my life too.

This is the contrast between modern urgency and the organic pace of animals, nature and intuition. It’s all so connected to my philosophy on life and creativity - the importance of slowness, patience and letting go of rigid control. I stopped overthinking again and I moved with Cirrus. The feeling of freedom was exhilarating. No mum or competition trainer around me to tell me what to improve or show to aim for. I wasn’t in training. I was just riding. I trusted in Cirrus, learning to trust a rhythm beyond myself. He set the pace and I was happy for him to take the lead.

‘Next time you try G6,’ David said at the end of my lesson, the higher level class. I felt quietly smug. ‘Ok,’ I replied with a big smile on my face and my nose ever so slightly in the air. I guess the faded competitive version of me who comes alive when I ride hadn’t completely disappeared but she’d been channelled into something softer and more fluid. She’s by no means my most elevated self, but she’s harmless - just a little insecure that’s all and keen to prove her worth.

Doing something I took so seriously for years in another language was fascinating. I was me but I wasn’t. Layer after layer was stripped away. There was a newness to the oldest parts of me. The beauty of learning something new as an adult is allowing yourself to be a beginner.

On my way home I wondered which other areas of my life could benefit from the same approach. Where in life do I need to loosen my grip, to move with instead of against? Embrace new beginnings even when they feel clumsy.

Have you ever tried horse riding or picked up something new that made your heart race a little? Perhaps you’ve noticed the barriers to surrender, trust and flow blocking you from doing so? If yes, this is my nudge for you to let go and let your heart guide you to whatever makes you feel most alive.

Lots of love

Jessica xxx

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