When You're a Jet...
You sang that didn't you?
When riding my horse, what keeps me steady is focusing on the technical details: Where are my hands, my feet, my seat, my shoulders? I like that about Pilates too. It’s not actually about strength (though you certainly do build that) but rather precision, control. Linking body and mind.
Joseph Pilates founded his practice rehabilitating soldiers but then grew it by helping ballet dancers come back from injury. I try to pass some of that history and that sensibility on when I’m teaching.
As a child I started ballet early and I can definitely see and appreciate how Pilates incorporates some of those same basic movements and the long lean lines it creates.
While I was never the best dancer, I managed to have enough talent for my star turn as a Jet gang member in our middle school production of West Side Story.
Yes, I know, impressive. Try to contain your adulation.
Even then, as I danced around that small stage, I was focusing on the steps, the mechanics. Those details that help you feel centered and keep you present when things feel out of control. Or when your family, not always known for being supportive, is in the audience.
Years ago, I worked with a young guy who was an avid skydiver. I’ve always had an adventurous soul – I was a Jet, after all – so when he invited some of us to accompany him one weekend, I was all in.
I can’t say I wasn’t scared. I was fine up until the actual day, but sitting on the plane strapped to a dive instructor, I noticed I had stopped breathing. It took some real mental effort to step to the open door and even more to let go.
What I remember then was just noise. It was so loud. And though I certainly plastered on a smile - we were being videotaped after all - it was mostly the force of the wind whipping in my face that kept it there. It was overwhelming for the senses. So, I focused on my form, the arching of my back, the position of my arms and legs, and the constant checking of the altimeter on my wrist so I would pull the cord at the right time. While freefalling, I was grateful to have things to focus on rather than the approaching ground and the air causing my cheeks to flap out as we descended at insane speed.
I know that real skydivers love the freefall but for me, not a real skydiver, the best part of the dive was after the chute opened.
Suddenly – silence. Only the sound of my own breath. And the views were spectacular. We were over upstate New York and for miles there was greenery and farmland. It was beautiful and peaceful. Like floating above the world in your own perfect bubble.
Thankfully the skills of my instructor were top notch, and we actually made a perfect standing landing. He was quite proud of himself as I recall. I mean, it’s no West Side Story, but, sure….okay.
I thought about this experience last week when I was walking my new horse bestie Miley as she rehabilitates from injury. Taking her for her daily walk could be challenging as she is full of pent-up energy but also because so many of the sights and sounds around the ranch cause her concern.
While walking with her, I’ve been teaching her to trust me, and it has been paying off. She looks to me when she’s nervous and when she sees that I’m okay, she’s okay too.
After a beautiful walk on a warm day, I took the long route back to the barn and we entered through the back entrance. All was well until we walked inside and her head went up, eyes wide. I stopped and took a moment to try to sync with her and understand what was causing her distress.
Then I heard it. The cacophony of noises. All the stall fans were blowing, of course. Also, the large, loud, standing fans we run near the grooming area were running. Someone was using one of the vacuums we use on the horses to suck up loose hair and someone else had a leaf blower clearing debris out of the breezeway.
I’m used to it; it’s background noise to me. But it was a lot for Miley to deal with right after our peaceful walk.
So, I got her attention. She looked me in the eyes and saw me. A detail for her to focus on. She came back into the moment, into our connection. Once she saw I was okay, she was okay, and we made it back to her stall with no problems.
It made me think of how daily life is a constant cacophony of noise and distraction. So much anger and bad news, always flying at us. It’s hard to find a way to stay calm.
Recently I talked about how I might want to jump out of a plane again. A friend said he wanted to go as well. I’d been looking forward to it and wondering if he’d feel that peace like I did. Frustratingly we’ve been thwarted by clouds and winds for three weeks in a row.
Clearly, whoever is in control of the weather doesn’t really care what I have planned. Isn’t that just typical?
Even when not jumping from a plane, we can all feel in freefall sometimes. It’s so easy to get caught up in the noise. In those moments, bring yourself back by focusing on what’s in front of you: finding the grace in precision, or perhaps in the eyes of someone you trust.
Or, of course, you could just sing a rousing number from West Side Story. Always an option.
Very moving, Lee.