The Dance Tip that I Needed For Horseback Riding (and Life)

“You need to breathe through your transitions.”

I was not expecting to hear this horseback riding advice during an in-home private dance lesson my husband arranged about a week ago.

The dance instructor and I had assumed the Balboa position, my left arm resting on his right shoulder blade and my right hand clasped in his left, near shoulder level. My feet were offset from his, the toes of my black Tom’s pointing out slightly.

Our torsos were aligned and made a slight V-shape. My green and gold rug lay rolled up and resting in the corner of the room, our family room transformed into a temporary dance studio.

The instructor, fresh back from a teaching gig in Europe, began to move in the smooth shuffle-y step characteristic of Balboa. He started with several basics one-two-THREE-four-five-six-SEVEN-eight. There were slight hesitations on the threes and sevens, in which I kept first my right, then my left foot suspended for a fraction of a second, or planted down on the floor, depending on the his lead.

Then he threw in paddle steps in which we rotated as a unit. After a couple minutes of just dancing, he commented that I needed to relax.

(I find that tip, no matter who is dispensing it, always easier said than done. Do you agree with me??)

Next he said I needed to take smaller steps.

Who was it that said art (in this case dance) imitates life? Smaller steps. This could apply to horse training, blog building, trying to start up a flourishing garden (in the middle of a drought), or teaching a student to write a good persuasive essay.  

How was it that this dance instructor was giving me practical life advice within the first few minutes of working together?

And so I intentionally relaxed into the dance which basically meant bending my knees a little bit and loosening the tension in my right arm. We paused for a moment of feedback and that’s when the teacher told me I had to breathe–“Breathe through your transitions.”

“You know, I ride horses and what you said applies to that. ‘Breathe through transitions.'” He chuckled and we continued to dance. Immediately, I thought about Knight’s canter departures; they’re not stellar.

Sometimes I don’t apply my aids strongly enough and I get a few confused trot strides before Knight begins to canter. Other times I ask with more fervor and he leaps into a canter like I just goosed him–it’s precise but not relaxed.

My feet kept up the Balboa footwork, but I made a mental note that next time I rode, I needed to consciously try to breathe during the transitions. I already know I have to breathe when I ride, and sometimes I talk to myself or to Knight, because I know if I talk I can’t hold my breath. Yet it occurred to me to hat maybe I should breathe deeply, in an exaggerated fashion–like a yoga-styled exhale next time I asked for the canter.

I did just that the next time in the saddle. Well, not exactly a gushing yoga exhale, but I did consciously breathe while applying my aids to canter. Was it perfect? No. Better? Yes. Both riding and dancing are pursuits which can never be mastered. This is a frustrating and beautiful fact which might be part of the allure–the quest for constant betterment. Ongoing education. Trying to adapt to my partner.

It’s convenient that my dancing homework and riding homework are essentially the same: breathe through the transitions. And my self-assigned life homework is simply a re-cap of my Balboa lesson: relax, smaller steps, and breathe.

Your Turn: Are there transitions on the horizon you need to breathe through? Is there an arena of life where you need to relax and take smaller steps? Do tell.  🙂

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