What Horses Teach Me

Reflections on Acceptance, Learning, Loss, and Love as told through Horses

Perfectionism is the enemy of progress: Sometimes we need to introduce new ideas before mastering the old ones.

Learning isn’t always linear. Sometimes learning happens in blocks. We learn this task at this time, but it might not connect to the next task at the next time. Learning is still happening, it’s just vertical, not horizontal.

I am constantly learning to accept where we are even if it’s not where I want to be or where I hoped I would be. 

Things need to be funny. 

Observe and redirect:

Redirect. Redirect. Redirect. Saying “No” is the last resort.

Sometimes the most meaningless lesson is learning how to stand still. 

Punishing self-expression won’t promote better behavior. 

Release the battle. Ideally you wouldn’t kick at me, but it won’t help if you’re constantly getting in trouble for telling me you’re struggling. 

Asking a more pressurized question expecting a better answer often solicits an eruption. 

Emotions are information. 

I can look at bad behavior as a sign of who they are, or I can look at bad behavior as skills they still need to develop. 

Not everything is meant for a solution. Sometimes the response needs to be more simple, like a hug and saying “Everything is going to be OK. I got you. You can feel all those feelings. I still got you.” 

What if it’s not about me not having the right language to speak, but it’s about me not having the ability to hear? 

We are told to connect with our horses, but are we connected to the current season? The weather patterns? Do we know what point we are on the jet stream? Can we point due north? Do we know the current phase of the moon cycle? Because our horses are connected to those things. So, to be told to connect to our horses without awareness of everything else isn’t really connection. 

Horses don’t need to learn the needs of their bodies. They also don’t need permission to address them. Something itch? He scratches. Hungry? He eats. Need to pee? He pees. Craving a roll in the dirt? He rolls exuberantly. Need to kick up his heels? He punches the sky with all of his being. 

Sometimes to help them means to lose them.

Grief moves through many mediums. One can be through a wild, ground ripping gallop. 

Recognize differences in sensory tolerance: If he won’t stand still with the “stream” setting on the hose, try the “shower” setting before assuming he’s misbehaving while being hosed.

Some things don’t need to become a thing. Blanketing, for example, was a complete nonissue. It didn’t require any prior exposure or extra practice. Same with using the grinder trim on his feet. Some things just aren’t a thing.

Before passing judgment, ask: Are we dealing with chronological age? Or developmental age? 

We can practice exceeding our threshold when we have a safe container. 

Let every day be new. Today is not a comparison of yesterday and it won’t be a benchmark for tomorrow. Today is today. What is happening now is happening now. 

When I’m in denial about needing a day off, the horses are very quick to let me know that being around me feels terrible and everyone would be better off if I just stayed on the couch today. 

There is a difference between wanting things to be different and believing change is possible. 

The horse will always be one step ahead of you. 

What working with horses can feel like:

A dream shattered

A dream unrealized

A dream readapted

A dream reestablished

A dream reimagined

A dream reclaimed

Don’t fight reality. I may be in a role I never signed up for or facing a problem I don’t want to become an expert, but this is what I have. This is what is in front of me. Don’t fight reality.

It’s in my best interest to make this relationship work because I’m in it.

Some of our best moments happen in the five-minute sessions. 

A question the horses reflect back to me: How do we honor our dignity?

When he gets lost, the idea isn’t to try to get him back. Using more force is a losing game. He is too strong and he knows it. It’s too easy for him to ignore the request. The idea is to do less. Drop the rope and give him space. Then be there for him when he comes back down and have a snort together. When he spaces out again, just wait it out. Do less. Don’t try. Instead of saying HEY, this our bubble and stay in here with me and make yourself smaller, say HEY, take the space you need to take it all in and allow air to run through it. No, you can’t run me over, but you can have big space. No, you can’t yank me in reverse, but we can sit together until you’re ready to join up again. More air. More of less. 

Sometimes our most consistent and dependable partners say “No, not today.” They can say, “I’m not carrying around this bitter energy you’re holding today. I can do it most all other days. But not today. Nope. Not today.” 

…and this doesn’t need to turn into a crisis. We just call it what it is. And we wait for the next shift change before starting again. Whether that be tomorrow, a week from now, or later today in the barn aisle with a good grooming. Not a crisis, just a change. 

Sometimes sniffing a dead bee on the barn floor is a big event in an afternoon. 

Can I identify what struggle looks like? Struggle doesn’t always appear as worry and fear and obvious trauma. Sometimes struggle is a tantrum, a fight response. Sometimes struggle looks like confusion. Sometimes it looks like boredom or inattention. These are still signs of struggle. It still requires the same level of compassion from us that a scared, traumatized, worried horse would. 

We are constantly coming to terms with control versus surrender. We like compliance. We like obedience. We like to have power over. An “easy” horse, a “well behaved” kid is more convenient for everyone. It makes us all feel better. Because when we aren’t challenged, we aren’t forced to confront the fact that we have no power or control, that we don’t actually know the answer, or we may not have the skills. And this reflects back on us. 

Know the signs when you’re reaching the limits of your compassion. Call in reinforcements before you get there. 

Two questions horses ask us:

Where are we going?

Am I safe?

Three questions to ask ourselves:

Where are we going?

Are you with me?

Can I sense my own body? 

Make movement functional. Let’s go to THAT tree. Let’s bend around THAT branch. Let’s turn toward THAT rock. Let’s step through THAT ditch. From A to B. Give movement a purpose.

It’s not my horse’s job to have no limits. It’s my job to know what his limits are. 

Expand health. Find what’s working and expand on that. Say “Oh yes, I see this problem, but look at all we have to work with here!” 

Wait. Just wait. The space between request and response may feel too long, but things are happening in the waiting. 

What feels possible? This may not be working right now. This might feel incomplete. This might feel unattainable. But what action is possible, right now, to move from this place?

Adding escalation to an already escalating situation is never going to help. 

Let’s not stay stuck in the story of “What happened.” Try not to fixate on what’s wrong. Widen that view and focus on what is right, what is healthy. Health is regenerative. Our bodies are always regenerating. The earth is always regenerating. 

The absence of calm isn’t a bad thing. The presence of big energy isn’t a bad thing. 

How open and willing are we to let ourselves be new? 

How much reverence do I have for the starting point? How willing am I to put this out, recognizing this is where I am now, and that evolution is a necessity? This is the start. This is where we’re at. 

It’s not about knowing the answer, it’s about asking a better question. 

Instead of asking “Am I doing this right?” Ask “Is this working?” 

We won’t learn anything if we’re tense and nervous.

Instead of Passive, consider Softness. Softness removes the defensiveness and apathy. Softness evokes kindness, patience, openness, possibility. 

This may not be what you want to work on, but it’s what you have. You have the option to change that, but this is what you have got for right now. So maybe the lesson isn’t working on what’s right in front of you, but rather the acceptance to face what’s true for right now. 

Horses are power used for good.

Each horse is an individual, but they are not confused by their role or questioning their purpose in the herd. They know their value and their worth.

What we can learn from the horse herd: A team functions best when each member is assigned roles according to their unique strengths.  

Stay out of their way and let them do their job. 

I want to ask you: When was the last time your horse had a full gallop? A fully stretched sprint with no obstacles, tools, or cues? When did you last see her snoozing in the soft sand after breakfast? How often does she yawn while you groom her? How easily does her skin ripple along her bones? What is her response to being in your presence and doing absolutely nothing? Does she find peace with you, or does she wish she were somewhere else? What does she tell you she needs? Could you hear it if she told you? What if we considered the idea that she is perfect? That her body knows? That her wisdom is inherent? Can we hold the possibility that she is completely fine? What if she is just as she is, existing in this world, in all her sentience, and all we are doing is getting in her way?