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Monday 9am - 5pm Tuesday 9am - 5pm Wednesday 9am - 5pm Thursday 9am - 5pm Friday 9am - 5pm Saturday 9am - 5pm Sunday 9am - 5pm

http://www.katrinsilvadressage.com/

Katrin Silva Dressage, 69 Bonanza Creek Road, Santa Fe, NM (2025)

09/27/2025

A good dressage horse does not require absolute silence and zero distractions to perform. A good dressage horse does not always need a perfectly level arena with perfect footing. A good dressage horse does not necessarily have the big, elastic movement needed to earn high scores in dressage competitions. No. The gymnastic strenghtening and suppling program we call dressage is a means to an end: a way to a more balanced horse, a more athletic horse, a more confident horse, a more focused horse - any breed of horse, any type of horse. A willing partner. A horse who can trot over poles or hop over a cross rail. A horse who can negotiate his way up and down a hill. A horse who can work a gate. A happy horse who does his job - any job - better. This is why I love dressage.

09/23/2025

Lately I’ve found it hard to share words—but this passage from Ride with Feel still feels right.

Horsemanship can be meditation: horse and rider moving, thinking, and feeling as one. Horses reflect our state of mind—calm or frazzled, kind or tense—and remind us that we are all interconnected.

Every ride is a ripple: what we carry into the barn radiates outward to our horses, to each other, to the wider world. We do not live in isolation. We inter-are. 🌿🐎

09/23/2025

Are we losing the wisdom of the great old masters? Is correct riding doomed? It can look that way, in our age of instant gratification, online misinformation, and short attention spans, but I feel more optimistic than those ready to eulogize good horsemanship.

It’s true that learning about horses is more complicated than it used to be. Rather than follow one well-established path, today’s serious students of horsemanship typically navigate their way through a jungle of schools and opinions, new scientific evidence and old books, real experts and fake gurus. The road to mastery has always been long, but it has become more winding and often leads through periods of uncertainty or down a few dead ends along the way. For most of us, it now involves a healthy dose of skepticism, and a sprinkling of utter confusion. This process may be more challenging than an approach that strictly adheres to one one particular school or tradition, but at the same time, it’s an opportunity to expand our view.
I have read a lot of the old texts and deeply respect the old masters, but I don’t believe in preserving knowledge in its “pure” form - because there never was such a thing. Good horsemanship cannot, ever, become fossilized. It’s a living, breathing truth, waiting to be discovered through feel and timing and gentle guidance from human teachers. Rigid dogma is the enemy of good riding.

All great riders have a few traits in common. They are calm, consistent, compassionate, curious and humble. Great horsemanship is like a jigsaw puzzle, with each piece glued to a solid backing of these core qualities. As long as people spend their lives honestly trying to learn about
horses and horsemanship, there is no real danger of decline. Instead, I see a widening of horizons, a re-thinking of definitions, a questioning of established norms, a an emphasis on horse welfare, and an evolution toward a world that includes more types of horses, riders, and riding traditions. I don’t see a reason to regret this. I see plenty of reasons to celebrate.

09/22/2025

Horse Shows, Revisited

I used to spend nearly every summer weekend at horse shows—Quarter Horse, Appaloosa, Morgan, then dressage and Western dressage. But I haven’t competed in years. Big shows are too expensive, local ones don’t feel the same, and my clients don’t need ribbons to prove their horsemanship.

These days, I’d rather focus on learning, teaching, clinics, and trail rides. I don’t miss the stress—or the insecurities competition brought up. Still, I miss the lessons shows can teach horses and riders, and the sense of community.

Do you show more or less than you used to? Why?

09/21/2025

Working with horses (and riders) who carry old habits takes patience, creativity, and grace. Just as we can’t blame horses for coping the best they can, we can’t beat ourselves up for the habits we’ve picked up along the way. The real work is breaking the cycle—seeking feedback, letting go gently, and saying: thank you, I release you now.

(Pictured: Lucy reminding me that habits—hers and mine—take time to soften.)

09/21/2025

We all know that horses who have to unlearn old habits are more difficult to work with than horses who don’t. We can’t blame horses for defending themselves as best they can against riders with bouncy hands, unbalanced seats, or gripping legs. We can’t even call these habits “bad” because, from the horse’s point of view, bracing against or just ignoring what makes no sense to them is a valid coping strategy. It takes time, patience, and some creative poblem solving from us to re-train a horse who comes with baggage.
But we, too, often come with baggage. Anyone who has worked with challenging, complicated horses tends to develop habits that run counter to everything that defines good horsemanship. It’s relatively easy to sit centered and use minimal aids on a responsive, balanced, educated horse. It’s a lot more difficult to find our way there when we ride crooked, unbalanced, or defensive horses. Because I’ve worked with many horses who came to me with baggage, I, too, carry lots of baggage - fidgety hands that spread too far apart, heels that creep up, a right shoulder that tends to drop, etc.
I’ve been working hard to leave these old habits behind. On a soft, balanced horse, it’s now easy for me to look like I know what I’m doing, sort of, at least some of the time. But on a horse with defensive patterns, the old habits come roaring back in. “Just one more time!” they whisper and cajole, oozing a seductive but unwarranted optimism. “This time, it will work!” Never mind that fidgeting with my hands has not worked the approximately 100 000 times I’ve tried it before. Maybe 100 001 will be the magic number.
For those of us who don’t have the luxury of only riding well educated horses, bad habits can become a downward spiral: we give them to horses, horses give them back to us, and we then transmit them back to other horses.
It’s up to us to stop the cycle. We need to take responsibility for our habits. Mirrors, lessons, clinics, educated eyes on the ground - we need feedback to keep us on track, plus, sometimes, body work or PT to help straighten us out. Habits that don’t serve our pursuit of good horsemanship are like noxious weeds in a an otherwise well-tended garden: they take over quickly and can suffocate our best efforts if we’re not careful.
But I’ve come to believe we need to give ourselves (and our students) the same grace we give our horses. We can’t beat them up for their old habits. We can’t beat ourselves up for ours, either. We did not develop these habits with bad intentions. Sometimes, they creep in out of laziness, but more often, they have or once had a survival function. My slightly braced “bronc seat” (legs forward, back rounded, hands out front to keep the horse’s head up) has kept me on the backs of many overly energetic youngsters. My crookedness is, at least in part, due to an old horse-related injury. Some of my students ride with jammed-down heels or hollow backs - habits they worked hard to pick up, in an effort to do what their well-meaning instructors wanted them to do. It’s time to let these old habits go - but let’s do it gently, with gratitude. Let’s tell them: “ Thank you. I release you now.” I’ve found this works a lot better than sinking into despair over all the things I continue to get wrong.

09/15/2025

Horse Shows, Revisited
I used to compete a lot, almost every summer weekend: decades ago in Quarter Horse shows, Appaloosa shows, and Morgan shows, later in dressage shows, most recently in Western dressage. But I have not competed, except in online shows, for a couple of years now. Why?
Because going to larger, recognized shows is beyond the budget of me and my clients now - and beyond the budget of most horse owners, really.
Because being competitive at such shows, in any discipline, is not realistic for most horses, no matter how well tained they are, including my own horse and my clients’ horses.
But even smaller, local shows - if we’re lucky enough to still have them - don’t mean what they used to for many of us. Most of my current clients don’t feel the need to see their horses perform in public. This does not mean they’ve lost their desire to learn, or they’re not serious about their horsemanship anymore. They want to be the best horsewomen (and horsemen) they can possibly be, but without the pressure of being judged. They spend a lot of money on their horses, and on their horses’ education. They don’t want to spend even more on entry fees, trailering, exorbitant membership dues, overpriced 10 by 10 stalls, and too much junk food - all in exchange for a weekend of too little sleep, a lot of stress, snarky comments from a judge who has no idea how far they or their horses have come, and, in the end, maybe, a couple of ribbons to hang on the tack room wall.
I could try harder to talk my students into showing their horses, but I hesitate. For me, taking client horses to shows has always meant a lot of extra work. And it’s not even paid work. I’ve never charged day fees for shows, as a way to keep them affordable to my clients, but shows still take me away from the barn, which means losing what I would earn if I stayed home.
Also, competition brings out the worst in me: all my old insecurities, all my feelings of not riding well enough, of not belonging, of not being worthy. It feels good to take a break from these complicated emotions. I don’t miss them at all.
Nor do I miss the packed schedule. Not showing has freed up my calendar for other activities: I’m dipping my toes into endurance riding and trail riding. I’m participating in clinics. I’m teaching clinics. And I even spend an occasional weekend with my husband. I am working a little less, but in spite of that, I’ve been able to save up enough money to buy a horse of my own. All of this feels good. Sane. More sustainable. And yet, after sitting out a couple of show seasons, I can’t and won’t say I’m done with competing for the rest of my life.
What do I miss about shows?
I miss what they can teach horses: more confidence and a better work ethic, along with practical skills, like tolerating scary new arenas, working in crowds, loading, and standing tied. I miss what they can teach riders - things like arena etiquette, focus, respect for others. I also miss the camaraderie I’ve experienced at some shows. Coming together at the fairgrounds for a weekend can bring us out of our isolated and separate barn bubbles. I miss being a part of the horse community. And I know that, if everyone does what I’ve been doing, there will not be much of a a horse community anymore. There will only be splintered factions.
The horse industry as a whole has shifted toward building relationships with horses, rather than using them as sports equipment. This is a welcome, positive trend. But I wonder: is there a way to bring back what is good about shows, without the hyper-competitive excess, with more consideration of what is fair to horses?
There are no easy answers. There are only open questions. So I ask you: do you compete more or less than you used to? What are your reasons for competing or not competing? And what should our goals be?
Ride happy,
Katrin

09/14/2025

I am finding it difficult to write anything I want to share with the world right now. I wrote this a couple of years ago for my book Ride with Feel, but it seems like the right thing to post this weekend:
Horsemanship can be a form of meditation: through connecting our own movement with the horse’s movement, our own minds with the horse’s mind, we expand our consciousness beyond ourselves. We merge with another being, which, at least for me, leads to a more compassionate outlook on the world at large. The connection I feel with my horses extends to other horses, other people, and beyond. The narrow boundaries of my self melt into their suroundings, which is what revered meditation master Thich Nhat Hanh calls “inter-being:” the sense that our existence is connected to all other life. I don’t experience this during every ride, but often enough to know it’s not just coincidence.
The idea that everything and everyone interconnects is as true in the horse world as anywhere else. Inter-being is even more obvious at the barn because horses are so sensitive to what goes on around them. We, of course, inter-are with our horses. Whether we’re aware of it or not, our horses’ lives and our own influence each other on every level. Whenever we spend time with our horses, the horses remind us of our interconnectness. They reflect our emotional equilibrium, or lack thereof. They feel our relaxed or tense state of mind, just as we feel theirs. Riding a horse illustrates the concept of inter-being brilliantly. Horses and riders synchronize their body language, their emotional states, their moods, their anxieties. When things are going well, we make each other calmer, stronger, more confident, more mindful, more balanced. On a good day, we experience inter-being as harmony between horse and rider.
But neither we nor our horses exist in a vacuum. If other people or situations leave us frazzled, frustrated, or overwhelmed, chances are we can’t inter-be with our horses in a positive way. They will, in turn, become just as frazzled, which will only frustrate us more. Inter-being means that everything we feel, say, and do has a ripple effect.
Calm and kindness radiate outward, from one horse-human encounter to another, from one part of our lives to the next. But so does unkindness and tension. We do not lead isolated lives. We inter-are. This is not some vague, esoteric concept. Inter-being has concrete implications for horse people.
We all know that hurrying, stressing, raised voices, or unkindness of any sort have no place around horses. We know that a moment of anger can undo months or years of good training. If we are aware of our inter-being, we will try to create positive ripple effects. Everyone involved in our horses’ lives should treat them with respect and kindness, which becomes a lot easier if we treat each other that way, too.

09/07/2025

Our 11th Imogene Pass Run is in the books. I finished in 4:32, good enough for second in my age group. David finished in 4:49, 10th in his age group. Only one bloody knee (his, for once). No rain (in spite of a wet forecast). I feel like a runner again, finally.

There is no happier place on this planet than a mountain top 13000 feet above sea level where smiling volunteers hand out cups of Tailwind and chicken soup to runners who know the hardest part of their race is over. If you’re losing faith in humanity, the Summit aid station is a good place to find it again. So is the finish line in Telluride.

08/30/2025

I used to think I wasn’t qualified to teach because I wasn’t the best rider. But I’ve learned that my mistakes, struggles, and lessons are what make me a better teacher. I don’t teach from the mountaintop. I teach from the winding trail, walking alongside my students and horses, one step at a time.

08/30/2025

Any equestrian’s current social media feed is full of photos and videos of horses performing piaffe steps, with their necks high and arched, their posture proud and beautiful, their expressions focused and calm. “This!” you exclaim. “I want this!”
No question, we all want this. I know I do. I love the feeling a truly collected horse gives me - the powerful haunches, the back that invites me to take my seat, the maneuvrable, nimble front end. I want to ride such horses as much as anyone else. Once you’ve experienced true collection, nothing else really compares.
That said, the photos and videos I post look quite different. That’s because most of the work I do with horses is not about collection, at least not directly.
Often, it’s about building the steps that lead us to collection: connection, straightness, engagement, impulsion.
Just as often, it’s about explaining the language of the aids to the horse, or about building the muscles in the horse;s body that make carrying a rider a breeze instead of a chore.
And even more often, it’s about building or re-building the relaxation and trust that form the bedrock of all good horsemanship.
We can’t ask a crooked, weak, or confused horse for collected work. We can’t ask a tense or scared horse to rock back on his haunches and lighten his front end. It would be an unfair request. The result would be an even more confused even more crooked, even more scared horse than the one we started with. The result would be a poor imitation of what we truly want. The Velveeta version of collection. No, it does not feel good - to the horse, or to the rider. No, I don’t want it. I want the real thing.
Collection is a worthy goal. But like any worthy goal, getting there takes practice, education, patience, and time. We might as well enjoy the journey.

08/26/2025

I used to think I wasn’t qualified to teach, because I wasn’t a good enough rider.
“Who do you think you are?” I kept hearing from my inner critic. Or: “You can’t teach. You’ve got a lot to learn yourself!”
That voice still lives inside my head. Especially when I watch videos of my riding. Especially when, like last week, I take a lesson and hear my teacher tell me many of the things I tell my students all day.
So, who do I think I am?
I am not a perfect rider.
I am not the world’s most talented rider.
I am someone who has made a lot of mistakes with horses.
I have developed some solid skills over the years, but know I will never know everything there is to know about horses. Not even close.
Still, I teach. Not because I have nothing left to learn, but because I have come to see these shortcomings as a net positive.
The most naturally talented riders often don’t make the best teachers. They find it difficult ot relate to those of us who deal with crookedness, old habits, old injuries, pain, fear, anxiety, or other issues. My own struggles, past and present, help me feel empathy for my students and their struggles. Working through my issues has given me tools I can now pass along to my students.
Some people teach from a mountain top. I teach from the winding trail that leads up the mountain, from the middle of the pack, helping others find their way as best I can, extending a hand when I can, humbly sharing any wisdom I’ve picked up along the way with those around me. The point is not to reach the summit. The point is to keep putting one foot in front of the other for as long as we are able. The point, too, is to stop and look around every once in a while, with a sense of wonder. To take a deep breath. To look at our fellow travelers and say “Wow. We get to be here, with our horses. Isn’t that marvelous?”
We’ve all come a long way. We’ve all got a long way still to go. We’re all trying to do right by our horses. It’s silly to obsess over who might be a few steps ahead or behind at any given point of the journey, so we might as well enjoy it. And when we do, that pesky inner critic quiets down, finally.

Katrin Silva Dressage

09/27/2025

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09/23/2025

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08/26/2025

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Monday	9am - 5pm
Tuesday	9am - 5pm
Wednesday	9am - 5pm
Thursday	9am - 5pm
Friday	9am - 5pm
Saturday	9am - 5pm
Sunday	9am - 5pm