Expectations matter. Amy Cuddy’s viral Ted Talk on “power posing” left millions clamoring: simply raising our arms above our head can trick our brains into feeling more powerful. We can fake it until we make it.

In the horse world, this psychology is helpful to keep in mind. Whether it involves jumping a cross rail or crossing a rocky river, a timid rider is more likely to find confidence in overcoming a challenge if they can envision their success beforehand. Competition jitters can be eased similarly—by imagining the hoped for outcome and riding to reach that goal. Just ask the rider who memorizes their Grand Prix dressage test, or the trainer who puts 30 days of training on their green-broke colt without a single setback. Setting an expectation and then meeting it is an incredibly satisfying endeavor.

But here’s the thing about horses: they live in the moment, while we do not.

©Flickr/MichaelStephan

©Flickr/MichaelStephan

They eat, sleep and react. As riders with goals, we tend to think ahead to the future. In doing so, we are constantly imposing our expectations. This is not a bad thing. We want to have fun. We want to not fall off. We want to work on counter canter transitions. We want to forget the stresses of the week. Sometimes our experiences are transcendent. At other moments, frustrating.

Horses teach by example. For their efforts, we are grateful. Just watch horses be horses in a field. They sigh in the sun. They groom their neighbors over the fence. They exist without a yesterday or a tomorrow.

When training with expectations, determination often gets the job done. But, if the aim is to ride for clarity, there is an art to lacking expectation. It’s called letting go.

The warmth in the breeze reassures me that spring is being ushered in. I wipe the dust off my dressage saddle, place it on Monty’s back, and tighten the girth around his sizable hay belly. “Oh my,” I joke, patting his neck.

My relationship with Monty has been a ten-year journey. I backed him when I was thirteen. Through my high school and early college days, we trained in jumping and dressage. Recently, he and I enjoy our time together in more laid back ways, like trail riding sans bridle; sans caring at all. I am a recent college graduate and many areas of my life are in transition: my riding goals, my life goals. But right now, we have nothing but time.

As we stroll around the ring on a loose rein I think about how satisfying it is to revisit the familiarity of our friendship. We pick up a working trot in the afternoon silence. His stride is loose and rhythmic. He stretches down into the contact. My mind is a blank map. No pressure changes the attitude of this ride. No upcoming shows loom on the calendar. Today we prove nothing.

©Flickr/groovenite

©Flickr/groovenite

Monty used to invent things to spook at when he wanted to get out of work. Needless to say, it drove me nuts. I would rise to the occasion by pushing him through it with my leg on and my eyes forward, sometimes with teeth gritted together so hard that my jaw hurt afterwards. In hindsight, I wonder what truly instigated that dynamic. My tension or his; my expectation that he would spook or his reaction to my expectation. Today I don’t expect him to be good or bad. I don’t really care what happens either way.

I focus on relaxation, positivity, and presence. To the best of my abilities I think and breathe as my horse thinks and breathes. With the ease of a river winding around the bend, we serpentine. Each footfall is a distinct percussion upon the ground. Our flying lead changes feel like we have been schooling them all winter. I focus on riding with the movements. I try to listen. Monty meets me halfway. We circle, wind, and flow. This is both reminder and affirmation. There is a lot to being in a partnership that is easy to forget. Like the now part.

After forty minutes are up, I slide the saddle from his back and hop on again. I whistle to my pup and the three of us head out down the trail. Monty’s ears are pricked and I am content. With the sun setting upon our silhouettes, what better way to enjoy the final twenty minutes of a peaceful evening.

Screen Shot 2015-04-08 at 2.44.12 PM