BREAKING FREE

BREAKING FREE:

How a Horse Delivered Me From the Bondage of Self

By Tom Gumbrecht                                                                                                                                                                                                                    Originally published in Horse Directory,  June, 2014

There is a quotation penned on the whiteboard of our barn, or more accurately, a derivation of one written by someone named Lao Tzu that reads. “He who conquers others is strong; he who conquers himself is mighty.” I had read this before, but it took a long time for me to begin to understand it and I’m certain I still don’t, fully. When I began to understand it is when I put it up on the board, because of its importance to my training (and my life) and how my horses helped me to understand it.

The author with DannyBoy at Equus Valley Horse Trials

I first thought that conquering self was about only self-control, about discipline, about will power. For me, the idea developed further into being about the deconstruction of the image of self that I had created. That image existed in my mind and it was a handsome one, but not terribly accurate. It consisted mainly of who I thought I was, or who thought I could have been if not for the endless obstacles placed in my path by others. I worked on maintaining the image, and it could have possibly existed forever if I had never been exposed to a horse.

I was gifted not especially with talent, but with an almost insatiable appetite for learning when it came to my middle-aged introduction to horses.  I had two trainers at the same time (perhaps would not do that again), rode at literally every opportunity and bought and read every book from every horse trainer, rider, clinician, and horsey philosopher I could find. And still, excellence eluded me. What I became was confused.

In other areas of life, I had become a master of the concept of “fake it ‘til you make it.” In some pursuits, that’s not necessarily a bad thing. Acquire some concepts, some jargon and some contacts, let that open a few doors, gain some exposure and acceptance and pick up knowledge through osmosis.  Not so with horses, I was to find out. You can’t fake it with a horse (unless, of course, the horse is in on it) and thereby lay the source of my frequent frustration.  I can present the best façade imaginable, one that may work wonders with some humans and yet the horse would see right past them. The horse, I was to find, responds only to the true self, the true me.  My hope for anything modestly resembling success on horseback required that I first acknowledge, accept, and become familiar with my true self.

I had to turn my gaze inward. Much of what I had yet to learn did not exist in books and found that I didn’t

The author with DannyBoy, leaning to let
go and let the horse do his job.

need to study and master the intellectual concepts of my lessons.  Rather I needed feel them in my fingertips, my calves, my heel, my seat.  My legs would remember what my brain could not comprehend.  It was a new way to learn, and at times frightening.  I had sought to master the horse, and now the horse was my teacher.  My ego, which I assumed had bolstered the little bit of professional recognition I had managed to acquire, was no longer an attribute.  In fact it was a liability, because the horse did not acknowledge or respond to it. The horse knew the real me, and was waiting for me to honestly present it. Perhaps that was the frightening part..

A point came where I found myself struggling with lessons from a teacher who challenged me as no other had. This teacher was a mare who had known nothing but the racetrack and the paddock in my backyard; I began to think that I would never have the level of expertise needed to be successful riding her. But expertise was not what she wanted. She wanted honesty. As she became more fit, I became more overwhelmed and fearful, and rode defensively.  The toughest thing was to admit that, but admitting it was the key.  My trainer had created an environment where it was safe to be 100% honest, and I felt no need to hide my fear. Once I did, we restructured and went back to the point where we had been successful and built from there yet again. Soon we were past the point at which we were once stuck, because someone was able to help me interpret what my horse needed of me.

This I know:  the process of knowing myself has been an incredible adventure, made possible by the many horses I have had the privilege of working with. They have all been my teachers; yet as valuable as it has been to have learned to know myself, I have been especially fortunate to have experienced glimpses of the next dimension:  overcoming myself.

It would not be honest to claim consistency in this concept, but I have tasted it and my appetite to pursue it has been whetted: to enter an arena and for a moment in time, totally and completely give myself over to my horse, to leave my ego at the gate, to trust completely. I have experienced that level of synergy if for a moment, and it has shown me what it is possible to achieve by a magnificent animal’s uncanny ability to remove me from the self which at a point only selves to inhibit and not propel.

Lola- learning partnership from a beautiful soul..

What lofty goals will I achieve, having learned these concepts? Well… the concepts are still for me somewhat elusive but in a way I may have already achieved my goals. I have learned that there are bigger things than the self, and the biggest rewards in life as in riding, come when the self is in the background rather than the foreground.  This is not a remarkable concept for many; it was for me, and it took a horse to teach it in a way that I could accept it.

Jim Rice: The Measure of a Man

Jim Rice: The Measure of a Man                                      

Originally published in Horse Directory July, 2013

By Tom Gumbrecht

Jimmy Rice was my onetime trainer, and my friend. His bio states that he was the first junior rider in history to win twenty USET medals. He trained with the legendary Jack LeGoff and the USET in Gladstone, riding in such acclaimed venues as Madison

Jim Rice in the prime of his show career.

Square Garden, Philadelphia Spectrum, and Harrisburg, in a successful hunter/ jumper show career.

His training career was an illustrious one as well. Jim trained many winning horses and riders to the highest levels of competition, as well as being a respected horse show judge and the manager of the Hunters Isle and Winner’s Circle USEF- licensed horse show series.

Jim Rice was one who gave back to his sport, volunteering his time in local as well as national equestrian organizations. He received many honors, which included the 2011 Hampton Classic Horseman of the Year and the USHJA President’s Distinguished Service Award the same year. He was an accomplished professional.

But that’s not the man I knew.

In 1999 I was a fledgling adult student who had been forced to leave his comfort zone. I had begun riding at my first barn (a stable around the corner from Red Barn) a year earlier, and had become acclimated to the trainer, the horses and the other riders there. After my first year, the farm was sold; trainer, riders and horses all went their

A tough man who lived by a
code of kindness

separate ways and I thought my “equestrian” life was over. Then I met Jim Rice.

The first thing I noticed about Jim was that I was getting something I wasn’t used to, as a rank beginner, getting from trainers: respect. Jim didn’t feel the need to focus on or point out my myriad shortcomings as a rider. Instead, he searched for the positive and used that as a base from which to proceed. I was not at all accomplished, and frequently not even coordinated. I had, though, developed a secure enough seat that I could stay with a fresh horse, and I had found within myself a love of horses that carried me through many of the frustrations that an older rider faces. Lastly, I was dedicated. I always suited up, and I always showed up, no matter what. That was the sum total of my qualities as a horseman.

For Jim, that was enough. Wherever I was in my training level was fine; we worked from there, upward. Jim inherently realized that an adult rider faces different challenges, one of which is ego. Many adult riding students have positions with a high level of expertise outside the riding arena. In learning horsemanship, we have to begin by being bad at what we do, and that can be tough on the ego. Jim knew that, and his own ego was small enough that he never felt the need to make himself appear better by demeaning his student.  I was an inexperienced, overweight, sometimes fearful rider with two left feet.  All I wanted to do was ride horses, and perhaps one day jump one over a crossrail. That was my goal.

Jimmy combated my frustration with his kindness. He gave me respect I hadn’t earned, and instilled in me a confidence I didn’t deserve. He got me over that crossrail, and then a vertical, and eventually a whole jumper course.  More importantly, he set the standard by which I would judge all future trainers.

Some years later, when I had my own barn and had done a long stint as a horse show

Laura Ruben guides CarynEve Murray down the road
Jim Rice paved with the perfect balance of
toughness and kindness.

dad, I started training again with young trainer Laura Ruben who had adopted, perhaps unconsciously, many of Jim’s training methods and way of being. One of my most treasured moments as a horseman was when we competed at Hunter’s Isle one Sunday, and we managed to get around just a little quicker than the others in the jumper ring. We were handed a ribbon and it was blue. Jimmy happened to be at his frequent post outside the show secretary’s office, and caught a glimpse. He stopped his busy horse show manager’s activity for just a moment and looked right at me. His eyes lit up and a smile cracked; he said nothing because he didn’t have to. His eyes said it all.

Laura’s reflections on Jim’s passing:

“As I was on my way to mourn the loss of one of the best people I ever had the privilege of knowing, I kept replaying how we met in my head. We had just moved to Red Barn and I was extremely intimidated by the big, quiet man that sat on the same spot on the fence and drank Diet Coke no matter of the time, with his adorable dog beside him. It took a week or so and I finally decided he wasn't so intimidating after all and shortly after I realized that this man was someone who would impact me for life. From Roxy sitting to job references, JR (as I always called him) taught me what it really meant to be kind for no reason other than to be kind, respect, to work for what you want, and how to handle those who cannot communicate with words. He always told me "to toughen up" and he lived out those very words until the end. JR you will continue to shine through all the lives that you have truly touched and we are all incredibly blessed to have had you as a part of our lives.”

A proud moment for the author:
Winning our first blue at Hunters Isle with Jim Rice
smiling his approval.

On the afternoon of the day that Jimmy Rice was laid to rest, a friend and fellow adult student was taking a guest lesson at our barn with Laura. The lesson proved to be a challenging one, taking her just outside of her comfort zone. With just the perfect blend of toughness and kindness, horse and rider were coached into sailing over the barriers, both the physical ones as well as the sometimes tougher mental ones. It was a “light bulb” experience for the rider, and that was all the evidence I needed to be aware that Jimmy Rice lives on through his influence on the lives he had touched.

 JR, your kindness is truly immortal.

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A Knowledge of Horsemanship?

A Knowledge of Horsemanship ?       

Originally published in Horse Directory,                                                             April 2013

By Tom Gumbrecht

Knowledge is Everything!

No, it isn’t.  Let’s start out with that.

"Circus"- The first horse the author sat.

For a short time, after beginning to learn how to ride at age 45, I believed that I would take a few lessons, maybe a half-dozen or so, and then go off and be a rider. It was such an accident of fate that put me in the saddle that I had no idea how much was involved in becoming what I considered to be a “good rider”. I didn’t even know what that was, but I suspected that it had something to do with attempting crazy stuff on horseback and not falling off in the process.  My innocence and naïveté were probably a good thing then, as a full understanding of what was involved would probably have kept me from even trying.

As I gained a little bit of knowledge and some time in the saddle, I explored different disciplines and found myself gravitating toward jumpers. As I watched from the sidelines I was mystified at how a rider could compel a horse to race around what seemed to be an unbelievably complex course of impossible combinations of fences.  While I thought of, or actually hoped to, one day ride a horse over a single fence, the thought of riding a full course didn’t even make it into my occasionally exciting horsey dreams.

I thought that I would need to find a way to access the secret details of some grand plan, some complex mystery that only the best riders knew and weren’t telling. “They” knew all of the details, but they weren’t sharing them with the likes of me. If only I knew what they knew, I could ride like they rode.

Or, not.

Laura Ruben of Affari Horse Farm taught me that discipline was not a bad word

You see, I was the kid who wanted to learn to play guitar on a music video, but found practicing scales and riffs to be a waste of time. I thought big! Skip the boring parts; let’s get right to the performance!  But then… something interrupted my big thinking. I had the good fortune, through another accident of fate, to have the opportunity to ride with a trainer who brought my big thinking down to earth while keeping my sometimes frail ego intact. A pretty good trick, honestly; it was accomplished by making the little things that I had no time for, fun.  Before I knew it, I was actually looking forward to practicing the very things I had so often shunned: balanced turns, straight lines, low hands, good posture, breathing, counting strides, work without stirrups, eye position, metered canters… basic things that I had been lacking.

Lola knows that jumping the little ones at home makes the big ones easy!

That was the missing element. I thought that I needed knowledge and guts; I wanted to float above the others on knowledge, and then swoop down and overtake them with guts. I was wrong; what was missing was not guts, nor was it knowledge. The missing element was discipline.  That was what “they” had that I didn’t; that was what I needed to find. It turned out that riding a competently executed course of jumps was no more than riding, in turn, a series of competently executed small movements.  Developed and perfected by repeating, observing, feeling, experiencing and improving some of the most simple things in riding. Honing skills as a woodworker sharpens his chisel in readiness for his next job. Put it all together and feel how it feels to experience something with your horse that is much more than the sum of its parts.  Discipline is the bridge between our dreams and our successes.

A point came when I began to understand what my very first trainer had told me once, a bunch of years ago: “Your problem, sir, it that you want to think it, and it will be done. Horses don’t work that way.”

I hate it when people who annoy me are right…

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As The Twig Is Bent..

AS THE TWIG IS BENT                                                                                                                     

Originally published in
 Horse Directory, October 2012

By Tom Gumbrecht

There is a saying that states, “As the twig is bent, the tree inclines”. Put in the context of training of the horse and rider, it could be taken to mean, “A casual suggestion, helpful or hurtful, when uttered from a respected source, may affect the kind of rider he or she may ultimately become”.

In becoming an effective rider, some of the things that need to be developed are balance, stamina, independent aids, patience, and self-image.  The first qualities are obvious, but self-image? What does that have to do with riding a horse effectively?

Having begun my riding career in my mid-forties, my only experiences are as an adult rider.  As adults, there are usually a few things we’re good at: our jobs, raising children if we have them, perhaps a sport or two, maybe a special skill like gardening, sailing or home improvement. We tend to stick to the things we’re good at because… well, it’s more fun doing things we’re good at than doing things we’re not good at.  So that’s pretty much what I did until age 45 when I rode my first horse.  Then it all changed.

Those afflicted with a love of horses and riding need no explanation for what ensued; those who haven’t been won’t understand anyway. While I found that I loved being around horses and learning to ride, I also was a bit uncomfortable at being so bad at something.  I was not what one would call a “natural rider”.  As I developed my balance, strength, and seat, I found that I needed to work on something else as well… my self-image. Self-image is not so much who we are, it’s a kind of combination of who we wish to be, who we’re afraid we are, how we think others perceive us, and what we believe ourselves worthy of.  In the beginning, my self-image as a rider was fragile. An ill-placed comment could discourage me for days; a great lesson had me trotting on clouds.

Curiously, I had an image of myself as riding jumpers almost from the start. Investigating many disciplines, nothing seemed so perfectly correct in my fledgling vision of how a horse should go, than watching a horse and rider on course in a jumper round. I found myself volunteering to help set up jump courses on Friday afternoons before weekend horse shows, and taking photos of the riders and studying them.  I secretly thought my aspirations were a bit juvenile and unrealistic, like a kid wanting to be an astronaut. Still, I designed a logo with the name of the barn I was planning to build that featured a jumping horse…. before I had ever jumped a horse. I saw myself in boots and breeches long before I had the guts to wear them. While I could ride all day, I found it tiring watching other people ride… except for the jumpers.

As months and years passed and time in the saddle began accumulating, it began to seem as if my goal was not totally unrealistic. As small successes boosted my resolve, I found myself becoming more protective of the image of myself as a rider that I was fostering.  Let’s face it, riding requires a major expenditure of mental and physical effort, time, and money.  If I allow my self-image to become damaged to the level that it’s no longer fun, there’s no point. But exactly how can I protect it?

At some point in my riding, I began to develop a point of view of my own.  I developed, or more accurately, became aware of, my own standards of how a horse should be treated and trained, and how I as a student of riding and horsemanship would allow myself to be treated.  I began associating with people who shared my point of view.  I chose to train with those who took the positive aspects of my riding and used them as blocks upon which to build me up as a rider. Those who sought to focus on negatives were left to find other victims.

We all tend to act out the roles we feel have been assigned to us.  That role exists in the image we have of ourselves.  The different facets of the horse world are like a row of doors, locked so we can’t get in, but made of glass so we can see what’s on the other side.  Our self-image holds the key to the one we belong in, and that’s why I’ve grown to protect it so fiercely.

I ride jumpers.  Don’t look for my name in the LI Jumpers Hall of Fame because it won’t be there. I am not accomplished. I am not polished. I am competent.  I used to dream of flight on horseback. Now, when the whistle blows, I can go out in front of a judge on one of those courses I used to set jumps on and fly.

That wouldn’t have happened had I permitted skeptics, naysayers and contrarians to bend the twig that might have leaned the tree in a completely different direction.  I’m grateful for the knowledge, kind words and encouragement from those whom I chose to accompany me on my journey that have helped it stand tall.

                                          High on my list of positive people: Trainer Laura

                                          Ruben of Affari Horse Farms returning from longing

                                          DannyBoy as I walk the course at Hunters' Isle