The Cavalli Connection

09/03/2026

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08/25/2026

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Good equitation is not just about a certain look but more of a function. It’s about sitting “into” the horse and absorbing their movement through our bodies, instead of just perched on top of them. A good rider is not something for a horse to carry, but instead creates no discrepancies between the horses back and theirs.

That means that every body will have the same principles of movement, but there will be many modifications for individual bodies.

To be able to absorb the movement of the horse, we have to move beyond achieving a look and develop a feeling. It means letting go of some places and becoming more structured in other places.

I always remember the words my teacher said to me: if you can’t feel the hind legs of the horse under you, you are not absorbing movement but perched. When I understood this that feeling became as clear as day - no longer just an idea or a memorized and disconnected timing, but a very clear feeling.

And so good riding is mainly that- feeling ourselves to feel the horse, and going together. Becoming more than a body controlling another body, but one entity, two bodies moving in harmony together.

Photo by Jade Premont

07/18/2026

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Fear is an interesting topic.

Many people talk about their fear of riding or being in certain situations as though it’s something they should simply conquer—that if they were a better rider, they wouldn’t feel afraid. While fear can certainly become limiting, it’s also an important source of information. Often, it tells us something is wrong, missing, or beyond our current level of preparation.

At clinics, people frequently tell me they’re nervous. More often than not, they have every right to be. If a green rider is on a young, anxious horse with little training, fear is an appropriate response. If a rider lacks the skills needed for the situation they’re in, fear is doing exactly what it’s designed to do: alerting them that the circumstances aren’t as safe as they could be.

Too often, riders are overfaced. They have gaps in their own education, and they’re riding horses with similar gaps in theirs. The solution isn’t to “cowboy up” and push through the fear. The solution is to build the missing pieces in a controlled environment where confidence grows naturally through understanding and success.

That’s one of the reasons I prefer people to learn on experienced, reliable horses whenever possible. When fear takes over, neither horse nor rider is in the best state to learn. A quiet, educated horse gives the rider the mental space to develop good habits instead of simply trying to survive the ride.

There is no shame in riding a quiet horse if that’s what allows you to learn well. Your green horse doesn’t become quiet because it’s ridden by a fearful rider. In fact, the opposite often happens: horse and rider reinforce each other’s uncertainty.

A client once told me that I couldn’t relate because I wasn’t afraid to ride any horse. That’s only partly true. The reality is, I don’t ride horses I believe I should be afraid of.

I work with many worried, difficult, or even dangerous horses, but I don’t start by climbing on. If my experience tells me the horse is underprepared, I listen to that. I address the problems from the ground until I believe the horse has enough understanding, balance, and emotional stability to make riding a reasonable next step. By the time I get on, I’m not relying on courage—I’m relying on preparation.

You don’t have to cowboy up. Choose the right horse for where you are today. Invest in education for both yourself and your horse. And if you’re afraid, don’t ignore it—simplify the situation until both of you can breathe, think, and learn again.

You and your horse have very little to gain from fear, but a great deal to gain from thoughtful preparation.

07/11/2026

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"My father, Georg Theodorescu, had a guiding motto that every rider should be aware of: 'A horse doesn’t get collected through hand and spurs, but through exercises.' The correct seat and position of the rider allow lateral movements to initiate the stepping-under, longitudinal flexion, throughness, straightness and suppleness that are all part of the German Training Scale."
~ Olympic dressage rider Monica Theodorescu

Lateral work is an indispensable element of daily dressage training. Monica Theodorescu explains how to determine if your horse is ready for this work and provides lateral exercises you can incorporate into your riding routine.

Click on the link in the Comments below to learn more about the value and purpose of lateral work!

📸 Silke A. Rottermann

07/09/2026

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Acceptance of the bit? Or resignation to it?

What’s the difference?

Acceptance is a quiet mouth, a relaxed body, and a horse who willingly reaches toward your hand because their body is able. The connection isn’t manufactured, instead it is offered.

Like a handshake, a dance, or a hug, it isn’t something you can coerce. You can invite it, cultivate the conditions for it, and then allow it to happen. It is the natural result of balance, confidence, and understanding.

Resignation feels different beneath the surface.

A horse resists the contact. The rider puts them back. The horse resists again. The rider puts them back again. It may all be done quietly, even “softly,” but the conversation never changes. The mouth becomes the place where every disagreement is corrected until, eventually, the horse learns that resisting changes nothing.

The resistance disappears—but not necessarily because the horse has found comfort.

The danger is that resignation can look remarkably similar to acceptance. The horse stops throwing the head up, even chews the bit from flexions manufactured by the hand. The horse carries the bit without obvious objection. To the eye, it may appear harmonious.

But the body tells the truth.

In acceptance, the back swings, the rib cage breathes, the hind legs step through, and the horse reaches honestly into the contact. The rider feels that the horse is carrying themselves and simply including the hand in the conversation.

In resignation, the stillness often comes from suppression rather than confidence. The body loses expression. The horse stops asking questions because they’ve learned the answer has already been decided. They no longer seek the contact—they simply tolerate it.

This is why a headset, no matter how correct, is never enough.

Our responsibility is not merely to teach a horse to stop resisting the bit. It is to ask why they resisted in the first place. Was the body balanced enough to seek the hand? Did they understand the request? Did the contact offer stability, or simply another place to hold them?

Acceptance cannot be installed through the mouth. It emerges from the whole horse.

When the body finds balance, the mind finds confidence, and the hand becomes a place of security rather than correction, the horse doesn’t resign to the bit- instead, they choose it.

06/29/2026

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True

06/27/2026

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You can learn something from almost everyone.

But not every methodology fits together.

When you’re shopping around for instructors or attending a series of clinics, it’s worth asking what each system is ultimately trying to produce. Every training method has an end goal, and the exercises only make sense in the context of that destination.

Some approaches complement one another beautifully. Others cancel each other out. You can end up taking one step forward and one step backward without realizing why.

What one tradition considers a fundamental building block, another may see as something to avoid altogether. Imagine what that feels like for the horse—moving from clinic to clinic, each instructor asking for a different feel, a different response, and rewarding a different answer. We risk giving our horses whiplash: spending one weekend repeating one lesson, only to spend the next undoing it and replacing it with something else, over and over again.

Before collecting techniques, ask yourself: What outcome do I actually want? Do the principles behind these different approaches support one another, or are they working against each other? Are they compatible with the horse and rider you hope to become?

Experienced horsemen and horsewomen can often borrow ideas from different methodologies with great success. But they do so because they understand the underlying principles. They know what is foundational and what is simply decoration.

It’s a bit like baking: you need flour, eggs, and leavening create the cake. The frosting is optional, and always comes after creating the cake.

You don’t start combining recipes until you understand what each ingredient does and how they interact. Otherwise, instead of creating something better, you end up with a bowl of swamp muck that never had a chance of becoming a cake.

06/21/2026

Amy Skinner posts some really thoughtful, good stuff! If you haven't already, follow her!
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Good intentions don’t replace good technique

As the horse world increasingly explores intention, relationship, and the emotional side of horsemanship, I sometimes worry that we risk overlooking something equally important: technique.

If you want to become a musician, you practice scales. It isn’t always exciting, but it creates the foundation that allows expression, creativity, and artistry to emerge. Once the technique is solid, you can create something uniquely your own.

Horsemanship is no different.

Good intentions matter. The desire to be kind, connected, and understanding matters. But our horses don’t experience our intentions directly—they experience what is communicated through our bodies, our timing, our tools, and our feel.

If we haven’t developed the technical skills to support those intentions, the message can become unclear. What feels soft and thoughtful to us may arrive to the horse as confusing, inconsistent, or even unsettling.

I’ve spent countless hours with teachers refining seemingly simple things: how I hold a lead rope, a flag, a lunge line, how I pick up a rein, how I organize my body before asking a question. Repetition of small details can feel tedious, but those details shape the conversation we have with the horse.

The intention was always there. The challenge was learning how to communicate it clearly.

Practice your scales. Be willing to examine the basics and receive feedback on them. The horse people who become truly effective are rarely the ones with only good ideas or good intentions. They are the ones who combine intention with skill, and who keep refining both throughout their lives.

Relationship, emotional awareness, and understanding can set the direction. Technique is what allows us to communicate those things clearly. One without the other leaves the conversation incomplete.

Photo by Jesse Cardew

06/19/2026

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I was on a long flight, sandwiched between an older woman and a younger woman.
The older woman, seated by the window, was fussing with her phone and becoming visibly frustrated. I asked if she needed help.

“My headphones won’t connect,” she said. “I downloaded movies for the flight, but I can’t hear any of them.”

I took a look at her phone, checked the settings, and made sure everything appeared to be connected properly. Satisfied, I handed it back to her.

“It still isn’t working,” she said.
Now she was becoming increasingly upset. The prospect of spending the next five hours without her movies seemed to be creating genuine anxiety.

I was puzzled. Everything I had done should have worked.
The younger woman in the aisle seat perked up and offered to help.
“I work in tech support,” she said.

She took the phone, checked a few things, and then handed it back to the older woman with exactly the same result.

She took the woman’s headphones from her, handed back the phone, and said, “This should work now. But I need you to put the headphones in very slowly and carefully.”

The woman nodded and did exactly as instructed.
This time, it worked.

Within moments she was happily watching her movie.

Once she was settled, I asked the younger woman what she had done differently.

“Nothing,” she said.
“I did the exact same thing you did. But when she was anxious, she kept jamming the headphones into her ears and accidentally pressing the mute button. I just needed to slow her down.”
Then she winked and added:
“Ninety percent of tech support is keeping the client calm.”

That comment struck me harder than she probably intended.

As riding instructors, trainers, coaches, and teachers, we often assume our job is to provide solutions. We spend years accumulating knowledge, building skills, and collecting answers.
But a panicked rider can find nine hundred problems for every one solution.

Often the solution is surprisingly simple:

The horse needs a clearer rhythm.
The rider needs to breathe.
The hands need to soften.
The rider needs to look up.
The horse needs more forward.
Simple things.

But anxiety has a remarkable ability to press the mute button on good information.

When people become overwhelmed, they stop hearing. They stop feeling. They stop processing. In their effort to solve the problem, they unknowingly recreate it over and over again.
I’ve found that some of the most effective teaching doesn’t come from knowing more answers. It comes from helping someone become calm enough to receive the answer that is already there.
The solution may be simple.

It may even be free.
But no solution can land on anxious ears.
Sometimes the first step in helping someone isn’t fixing the problem.
It’s helping them stop pressing mute.

Photo by Jesse Cardew

03/22/2026

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Paralyzed with indecision? Wondering which method is the "true" method?

The best path is often dressed down as too simple to be true. Personal responsibility, gaining a clear mind and control of your body, and riding the horse forward, calm and straight - it's not new, it's just out of fashion. Nobody that you know walking around today "invented" this. There is no credit to be had, just care for the horse, and basics done well every day.