The quest for the best possible seat is a search for middle ground:
We want our heels to be low, because we want our lower leg to be stable, but not so low that we brace our legs into the stirrups.
We want our hands to be quiet, but not so quiet they can’t follow the horse’s neck.
We want to sit tall and straight, but not so straight that our back stiffens and does not swing with the horse’s back.
We want to sit in a relaxed frame of mind and body - but not so relaxed that we feel like dead weight to the horse.
We should want to sit on our horses as well as we possibly can - because we want to be a good load to carry, and because we want to communicate with them, our back with their back. But too much emphasis on a perfect position, for the wrong reasons, e.g. to impress teachers or judges, can lead to unhealthy, unsustainable exaggerations, like the hollow-backed, duck-like perch I’ve seen in hunt seat equitation classes.
My seat, like everyone else’s, is a work in progress and always will be. I’ve given myself permission to feel good about not being perfect.
Is my seat as symmetric as my old, creaky body allows it to be today? That’s good enough for me.
Am I in self-carriage, so I’m not an undue burden to my horse? That’s good enough for me.
Does my seat allow me to feel the horse, and to give aids my horse can understand? That’s good enough for me.
There is no perfect seat - there is only the best possible seat for any given horse in any given situation. More effort is not always better. Trying too hard to do everything our well-meaning instructors tell us can us keep us eager, dedicated students of horsemanship from developing feel and timing. Even worse, that relentless pursuit can suck the joy right out of our riding. There is nothing correct or balanced about beating ourselves up for being normal, imperfect humans with crooked bodies and old habits that take time to change. We can always be better, but good enough with feel, timing, and a sense of humor beats riding with a furrowed brow, a clenched jaw, and the pain of constant self-flagellation. I think our horses would agree.
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