Jekyll Willig, Grinning Martha

Driving to my lesson today, I had the usual sense of dread, and I realized why. With my jump lessons, I never know whether Willig is going to have a Jekyll day or a Hyde day. I HATE the Hyde days, although I'm always grateful that he's having one with Shannon there, because she always gives me some tips on how to deal with them (and now, for example, compared to last year, I can ride through most of his "bad" days - not his terrible days, but those are (knock on leather) few and far between), so that when I get one and I'm alone, I'm not totally at loose ends.
He had a kind of wild hair week - he bolted with J on Tuesday because he saw Bambi come out of the woods (from a walk - and she had already seen the deer, so she was prepared); on Thursday, as I already described, he had a fit about the spurs with Mike; on Saturday, where Bambi had been on Tuesday - horrors - a human was walking, so he got a bolty butt with me, and got to go work hills as his punishment; and so I didn't have the highest hopes for a good attitude today.
Well, lo and behold, he was in an excellent, easy going mood.
The main take aways were to:
1) Ride him straight to the center of the jump. He's going over the left side a lot, and then veering left on the far side. This must be me, but I don't know what I'm doing.
2) It's ok to give him a couple half halts a few strides out, but a couple strides out, relax and just ride the fence. Stop controlling and let him figure it out himself. Especially on an exercise fence, where there's ground poles and we're doing it repetitively.
We started with a cross rail on what I thought was a tight right turn, but was actually a very easy and doable right turn (see how easy your eyes - well my eyes at least - can deceive?). Shannon turned it into a vertical. Ho-hum.
Then we added a little combination - cross rail to vertical, around the blue barrels to the 4-stridish two verticals. Ho-hum. A little more "rushing" (not really, just feels like it to me) but no big thang.
Then the little combination turned into a vertical to vertical, and the 4-stridish got taller and then the lattice fence. "Yawn" says Willig.
The 4-stridish turned into an oxer and added the blue barrels. "Could you challenge me?" Willig says. (And I had a great moment here where I realized we were coming in too far on the left and several sides out tried to correct it. I wasn't successful, but at least I noticed, which is an improvement.)
The vertical before the oxer got taller, as did the lattice. Willig came in a bit short on the oxer and a bit long on the lattice, but he ... (drum roll) jumped them anyway - fixing himself - a bit awkward, but we went over fine.
And here was the shining moment - the first time over the oxer (which was 2'9" - I sheepishly snuck out and measured it afterwards) - holy floating, batman. When Willig jumps - when he actually has to lift himself a tiny bit into the air and create a bit of a bascule (right?) instead of just plodding over the "safe" 2' fences - oh my lord is he a pleasure to ride. It's these fences why I put up with the dread and the nerves that we're going to have a Hyde jumping day. It's like magic.
It's like - for those few seconds - that's when I feel present. Like a meditation style present. The same as when we've finally got everything together in dressage and he elevates his forehand. The same as when I used to rock climb. It's that moment of balance with the universe that is so incredible that it makes all the time and work and money and sweat and tears worth it - for those few seconds. And of course, the goal that all this work means that those seconds are going to come more often and last longer and that I'll have more ability to summon them. And hopefully until I'm 61, like the person riding at Rolex this year (!!).
And also, honestly, it makes me feel better that he pulls hijinks with better riders than me too. They may deal with it better than I do (they definitely do), but it's not because I totally suck that he tries to pull that stuff on me. He's just a horse.
On the drive, anyway, I remembered that was what John Camlin described about Willig when he was there for training. Some days, he was just a delight. Other days, he got up on the wrong side of the stall. And you couldn't predict and you couldn't change it - you just got whatever horse he was that day. That's just Willig. And I just have to cross my fingers that a show day is a Jekyll day and ride the best I can on a Hyde day.