I was learning to ride a horse. It went wrong from the beginning when I mounted that shabby pony and tried to make it move. Like before that moment I was certain that it was pretty simple, like riding a bicycle; you make certain motions with your hands and feet, and the bicycle moves forward, accelerates, slows down, turns left and right. What could be more simple than that? Same with the horse. I mean; I thought so.
So before that moment, I had in my head the vivid pictures of my future glory; riding in the rapid gallop, with neck-breaking speed, the scenery around me coalescing into a blur. Then I would produce a wild, victorious cry, like a proud descendant of the generations of blissfully uncivilized savages, riding through the steppes in huge numbers.
So I mounted the pony, anticipating my future dazzling successes, picturing how cool I would look, swooping through the air with the lightning speed. The only thing I regretted, that it was a pony rather than a full-fledged, normal horse, preferably wild and aggressive stallion, which, I thought, would suit my personality the most. But I thought, it would change soon, after everybody realized how cool in fact I was, and how I deserved no less than the craziest and the most untamed horse they could find.
I was sitting on the top of this pony and kicked it, trying to make it move. The trainer told me that it was the first thing I had to do during this exercise; kick it, and it would start moving forward. To make it move faster I had to kick it harder. If I kick it on the left side, it would turn to the right, and vice versa. Pull the reins, and it would slow down or stop. I decided it was even more simple than I could imagine.
So I kicked this shit, and it didn't move. It stood still, not paying attention to anything, occasionally shaking his shaggy head irritably, looking straight forward with an expression of dull incomprehension in its eyes. The trainer observed this picture for a while; me kicking the pony, and the pony standing calmly like a perfect statue of a pony, then she suggested that I probably didn't kick hard enough, and the pony failed to feel the urgency of the imperative. I started to kick more vigorously, which didn't change the situation apart from that pony shook its head more frequently with more annoyance. Other students started to gather around to take a look at what was going on. Mostly girls. This riding school was mostly attended by girls, like they have some spiritual connection to the wild animals or something, so it gave me another reason to be proud of myself and my future riding successes, to anticipate how I would amaze them all flying, splitting the air in a wild gallop, like my ferocious, unspoiled by civilization ancestors did during the centuries, swooping through the steppes with the savage roars and whistles.
So far, though, I needed to compel this stubborn animal just to start moving forward. I didn't expect it to break into a gallop, or trot or whatever the fuck the horses do. I just wanted it to somehow react to my presence, acknowledge my existence and stop ignoring me altogether. At the present moment, it acted as if I was something utterly inconsequential. From the group of onlookers, I heard politely suppressed sniggering, sometimes breaking into short bursts of laughter. I felt that my confidence was deteriorating. The trainer kept shouting at me, that I had to kick the pony harder. I thought, that if I spent this kicking effort on a person he would already be dead, and began to suspect that there might be some other secret thing I failed to take into account, and which nobody bothered to tell me.
In another desperate effort, I kicked this animal with all my force with a growing desire to murder it, and it stirred, shook its head more violently, indicating its awareness of my presence as well as its opinion of me sitting on its back refusing to leave it alone. Basically, I intuitively felt a hint of homicidal attitude coming from this short, ugly, and obnoxious pony with its crooked legs, shabby skin, and muddy, filthy mane. I realized, that I was sitting on the back of horse equivalent of the social outcast; unpleasant, vicious, despised by everybody.
Nonetheless, after my this last effort the pony eventually moved forward, although, leisurely and reluctantly, but it moved, and I breathed the sigh of relief. The trainer, seeing that the central obstacle had been overcome, gave me a final scornful look and moved in a direction of the pen where the more experienced and successful students rode in circles, raising the clouds of dust, jumped through the barriers, reminding my wild, uncivilized ancestors dashing through the steppes in hordes with whistles and catcalls.
After a while, I realized that, although the pony moved in a lazy, unhurried walk, I still wasn't able to control it. I began to suspect that it started moving not because of my efforts, but because it just got bored of standing still. Because it kept ignoring all the signals I transmitted to it: kicking, pulling the reins and through spirit to spirit non-verbal communication. I couldn't steer it in the direction of the pen, where I wanted it eventually to be, and soon I'd noticed that it had its own clear idea where it had been going. Namely, it went in the direction of a group of horses and colts, chilling nearby, soaking in the pleasant sunshine and enjoying life. I honestly doubted, that arrival of such ugly, despicable, and vicious social outcast as the one on which back I had the misfortune to sit, would produce any enthusiasm among those gorgeous and obviously cool horses. So I kept trying to steer this piece of shit toward the pen kicking and pulling the reins convulsively. The abomination under me didn't react in any way, as if I was a fly, annoying but harmless, which he planned to get rid of in its own time, but not before it would attend to more pressing matters.
So, despite all my efforts, the pony approached the group of cool horses, chilling in the sunshine and looking at it in utter amazement, probably wondering how this ugly pariah had the nerve to come so close to them. I felt awkward and somewhat helpless and thought what else I could do to take the situation back under my control. Meanwhile, while I wasn't paying attention, the pony fell into a romantic state of mind. I was horrified by the perspective, and at the same time somewhat impressed by the incredible, unbreakable self-esteem this wretched creature possessed despite being, well, short, ugly, bad-tempered, shabby, filthy, and miserable dreg of society.
While I was trying to figure out what else I could do to make the pony obey my commands, the situation started to develop quickly and violently. One of the colts obviously considered it a disgrace, that my pony dared to approach them, and fiercely kicked it with its hind legs in the snout. Then there was a second of suspension. Or half a second. Like everything had frozen in silence heavily charged with anticipation of what was going to happen next. Then I heard the yells of my trainer, loud and urgent, she was shouting at me to get the fuck off the horse ASAP. Apparently, she saw the whole situation and realized that now it was really fucked up. I could feel it myself both from her panicky voice, and from the fact that the pony under me brayed ferociously. Then I learned, that it could move really fast when it wanted to. Basically, the next moment I felt like I was sitting on a trolley, rolling down the tunnel at a tremendous speed bumping and rebounding into walls. Then I was violently thrown in the air where I managed somehow to regroup, so I didn't fall flat on my back but touched the ground with my feet and then rolled on my back. When I stood up, I realized that I was alive and, in general, unscathed, not taking into consideration the strong adrenaline rush that kept circulating through my system. So my first day of riding practice had been relatively successful, and I congratulated myself on that :-)