Equine Insanity

The Sun and the Moon

2011-12-13T04:44:00.000-08:00

I know why the caged bird sings, ah me,

When his wing is bruised and his bosom sore,

When he beats his bars and would be free;

It is not a carol of joy or glee,

But a prayer that he sends from his heart's deep core,

But a plea, that upward to Heaven he flings –

I know why the caged bird sings.

– "Symphony" by Paul Lawrence Dunbar

Six years ago when I met my horse Little Love, she was classified as a true nut case. This was a horse that hated everybody and everything. She couldn’t stand to be brushed, she loathed tacking up and riding was definitely the worst thing that ever happened to her. She was perpetually scared of the world around her and was completely unpredictable under saddle. When she was in one of her “scared moods”, she would bolt aimlessly around the arena, hauling her owner around like a ragdoll. She wouldn’t turn right and barely could make a left turn. Other days, when she was in her “calm mode”, she refused to move and trying to get her to trot was like running in a swamp filled with molasses. I really think that the only thing that saved her from being taken to the slaughter house at a young age was her incredibly elastic and larger than life movement, which had every trainer in the country swearing they would be the one to “put that horse into its place.”

I worked with Little Love for almost five years before she became my horse. During this time I discovered that she was a misunderstood individual who had a lot of opinions, but nobody who would listen to her. When I started listening, it changed a lot of things. Suddenly she wasn’t so scared. She also decided it was alright to cooperate with humans, at least some times. But, her basic nature as a flighty, spooky horse remained the same.

“You are wasting your time,” some people said, when I relentlessly kept working with the black mare despite the challenges we seemed to face on a weekly, if not daily, basis. “She’ll never calm down.”

I think it was about three years into it that I realized that this much was true; Little Love would never change her nervous, skittish ways. Even though she had calmed down significantly, she still had that frightened horse inside her, and that frightened horse could show up within seconds, if she encountered something scary. And she was scared of so many things.

Secretly I wished I would be able to own her one day and give her the life I inherently believed she deserved. Yes, she was a “difficult” horse, but for some inexplicable reason I was willing to live with whatever this brought to the table. So when that day came, I took her out of her familiar environment of a commercial barn with the covered arena and other works and hauled her to a small barn where she could be outside as much as possible. And not just outside, but outside with another horse.

She was shell-shocked at first, not knowing what to do with her new life as a horse, but slowly it all sunk in. And as it did, my horse started to change.

Now Little Love lives at a small barn with three other mares. She still sleeps her nights in a stall, but spends 12- 16 hours of her day outside interacting with other horses. This is still not perfect, as my dream is to get her into a situation where she no longer would have to live in a stall, but in the meanwhile, her current situation is the best we can get. And it has made all the difference. Gone is the crazy horse, the fearful horse, the insecure, skittish animal that took off in the arena over the smallest noise from outside. In fact, the change has been so profound, so incredible, that if I hadn’t seen it with my own eyes, it would be hard to believe.

So, what is it that made the difference? This is a question I have been thinking of a lot. I do believe it is the sum of many things, for not only has her living environment changed, but other aspects of her life as well. She no longer has shoes; she hasn’t had a bit in her mouth for over three years; she rarely gets ridden and never in the arena; she is never forced to do anything; nobody hits her or yells at her. But, that all put aside, there are two elements to Little Love’s life that seem to make the biggest difference: free movement and the company of her peers. From what I have seen, I truly believe that no amount of riding or human contact can replace either one of these fundamental needs every horse has.

Two weeks ago I witnessed first hand the importance of free movement and herd life to Little Love’s well-being. For reasons I’m not going to get into here, she had to be separated from the herd for a short period of time. I didn’t have the heart to keep her stall bound, so we set up a small paddock close to the other horses. In fact, to make her feel “comfortable”, we brought her best friend up to the small paddock next to her. Because of the mandatory electric wire, the two horses couldn’t touch, but at least they could be close to each other. I was confident Little Love would adjust to this arrangement for a few days. After all, this was nothing new to Little Love; hadn’t she lived half her life in solitary confinement, at times never getting to go outside? In comparison, a few days of restricted movement and social life were peanuts.

It took less than 24 hours for my horse to unravel mentally and emotionally. Suddenly the horse that had been calm and composed, brave and fearless, started exhibiting strange behavior such as staring at objects she had seen for months in the driveway, but which now appeared to stalk her. She spooked at the neighbor’s dog she had seen daily; the mailboxes on the side of the road caused her to have a fit. It was impossible to leave the barn area without the mare having a complete meltdown. She reared, she bucked. She stopped and refused to move, just to seconds later suddenly spin around and try to canter home. She was afraid of everything and anything; even the sound of rain drops hitting the bare, leafless trees freaked her out.

Even thought I had seen it a hundred times before, it actually took me a few moments to recognize this behavior and the message behind it. But, when I did get it, it hit me on the head like a bag of bricks; Little Love was demonstrating the same behavior I had seen for years, before she was my horse. This was not a “crazy” horse, this was a horse that had been denied two of her basic needs in life.

I called the barn owner and discussed other options for Little Love and as soon as we discovered a solution where she was able to be in actual physical contact with other horses and move around freely, she went from crazy to calm within minutes. In fact, when I saw her face as she approached her friends, I realized that no matter what it took, I would always do my best to make sure she could continue living as part of a herd on a daily basis. Horses are herd animals and they should never be treated as anything else. They are also animals that are born to move and they should have this opportunity preferably 24 hours a day. Living in a stall for 19 hours out of a day just to go outside alone in a postcard-sized paddock is not the life horses are built to live, no matter what people say.

So many horses are dismissed from our human world as problem horses, but have we ever truly stopped to analyze the reasons these horses act like they do? Human mishandling issues put aside, how many horses at this moment are suffering from their restricted lives in a small stall, without any hope of ever again having real contact with another member of their species? I can assure you we are talking of many, many horses. Perhaps many of them seem alright, even happy (by human standards) for not every horse is a freedom fighter like Little Love who can and will exhibit her opinion about her living conditions to anyone close enough to take notice. Most horses, in fact, accept their fate and find solace in the dull world of learned helplessness where dissociation from reality saves their life, but eats away their soul. This works very well for humans, as these horses are valued beyond measure as “kind and calm”. But, having seen the transformation of my own horse, I can only wonder what lies within all those horses that endure similar, or even worse, living conditions Little Love did. If we freed all the riding school horses and competitive show horses and race horses to live a more species-appropriate life, what kind of personalities would resurrect from the ruins of these animals? What sort of lessons of humanity would they be willing to teach us? What kind of aptitude could we discover? How would this change our relationships with these animals?

The difference in Little Love’s current personality compared to who she was a year ago is like talking about the difference between the sun and the moon. The sun and the moon are both round and from our perspective they live in the sky. There are a lot of other similarities as well, but when it comes down to differences, we all know what they are. Maybe the most striking difference in the way we perceive these two planets is the fact that the sun is always whole whereas the moon can only appear to us in its whole beauty once a month and even then it pales in comparison to the sun’s extraordinary splendor. That is exactly how I see Little Love when I think of her past life; she looked like the same horse she is now, but it was only very brief moments that I could see glimpses of the real horse within.

Whereas now that real horse is present all the time.

And the wisdom and beauty she brings to my world every day takes my breath away.

"Caged Bird"

A free bird leaps

on the back of the wind

and floats downstream

till the current ends

and dips his wing

in the orange sun rays

and dares to claim the sky.

But a bird that stalks

down his narrow cage

can seldom see through

his bars of rage

his wings are clipped and

his feet are tied

so he opens his throat to sing.

The caged bird sings

with a fearful trill

of things unknown

but longed for still

and his tune is heard

on the distant hill

for the caged bird

sings of freedom.

The free bird thinks of another breeze

and the trade winds soft through the sighing trees

and the fat worms waiting on a dawn bright lawn

and he names the sky his own

But a caged bird stands on the grave of dreams

his shadow shouts on a nightmare scream

his wings are clipped and his feet are tied

so he opens his throat to sing.

The caged bird sings

with a fearful trill

of things unknown

but longed for still

and his tune is heard

on the distant hill

for the caged bird

sings of freedom.

By Maya Angelou from Shaker, Why Don't You Sing?

Little Love cantering with her friend Col

Ice Crystals

2011-11-07T06:37:00.000-08:00

Feelings are much like waves, we can't stop them from coming but we can choose which one to surf. ~Jonatan Mårtensson

I noticed the couple with the baby as soon as I boarded the airplane. It was hard to miss them, because the mother, who was holding the squirmy infant, was blocking the aisle and causing a massive backup of boarding passengers. Once I settled in my seat, I realized the family was sitting two rows down. I watched the mother try to settle down the baby, who appeared to be about eight months old. But the little boy wasn’t going to have it. Every time his mother sat down in her seat, he started crying. So, the mother opted to wander up and down the aisle, despite the other passengers trying to get to their seats.

Soon everyone was sitting down, except the mother with her baby boy. She continued walking up and down the aisle, talking to the child in a soothing voice, until the stewardess asked her to sit down for takeoff. The mother sat down and instantly the infant started crying loudly. He squirmed in his mother’s arms and despite the efforts of both his parents, he wouldn’t calm down. Soon his scream escalated to a wait. The plane was already moving, heading to the end of the runway, but the mother undid her seat belt and stood up, holding the flailing baby. The moment she was standing, the boy quieted down, gurgling happily.

The other passengers looked alarmed. Surely the woman wasn’t going to stand during takeoff?

“Excuse me,” a stewardess called from the back sternly. “Please sit down immediately!”

The mother made an attempt to sit, but when her baby started screaming, she sprung up again, her face distraught. Her husband touched her arm, but she ignored him.

Suddenly another stewardess emerged from the front of the plane. She was young, barely in her twenties.

“Please,” she said, “you must sit down or we can’t take off.”

The mother looked at the young woman and clutched her child, who was quiet again.

“But I can’t, he won’t settle,” she said.

“I understand, but you must sit down or we have to stop the plane,” the young woman replied. She put her hand on the mother’s shoulder and guided her towards her seat. The mother sat down and as soon as she was in her seat, her child protested with a loud wail. The mother struggled to hold her kicking child. I could see she wanted to stand up again.

The stewardess knelt by the woman’s seat.

“Listen,” she said. “I realize this is a very stressful situation for you. You are worried about your child. But it is much less dangerous for him to cry in your arms than for you to stand during takeoff. Don’t worry about the other passengers; they can handle a little baby crying.”

I could see tears pouring down the mother’s cheeks; her husband wiped them away. The stewardess put her hand on the mother’s knee and looked her earnestly in the eyes. I strained to hear her words over the screaming baby.

“I can see you are a good mother, trying to do the right thing. Keeping your child safe is right thing. Just take a deep breath. Before you know it, you will be able to stand up again.”

The mother sighed and suddenly, as if someone had flipped a switch in the child, the baby stopped crying. The change was so abrupt that my husband reading a book next to me looked up and said:

“What happened, is the baby okay?”

The baby was okay and so was his mother. The young stewardess walked back to her seat and as the plane took off into the sky, it was completely silent in the cabin. A few hours later, when we arrived at our destination, I saw the family leaving with a happy and calm baby. I marveled over the wisdom of the young stewardess, but also the baby’s reactions to his mother’s emotions. It was obvious that as soon as the mother calmed down, the baby, feeling his mother’s energy change, followed suit. Children, just like horses, are masters at picking up emotional messages, even the ones we don’t know we are sending.

I sometimes wonder how I was able to escape this lesson in horsemanship for so many years. I was, of course, told that horses could “smell fear” a mile away. But, on the same token, I was told to cover that fear up and act brave, even aggressive. As if that would fool a horse? I personally think that this particular piece of advice has caused hundreds if not thousands of horse-related accidents in the world. Horses always know how we feel, no matter what we do. It is when we ignore those emotions in ourselves that horses get suspicious and even defensive.

Just this weekend I was reminded about the mastery of emotional intelligence horses possess. A friend of mine wrote me an email after she had visited my horse with her eight year old daughter. My friend and her daughter had brought a few carrots to give to Little Love, but, when the actual time came to feed the carrots to my mare, who was standing in her paddock close to the fence, my friend’s daughter became scared of the big horse.

"Go ahead, it's safe to give Lilo the carrot," my friend urged her little girl who was clutching the carrot in her hand.

Carefully, her daughter pushed the carrot towards Little Love through the fence. Soon the carrot was only a foot from Little Love's nose, but instead of taking it, the horse stood stock still, looking at the child with her ears forward. Quickly my friend’s daughter pulled her hand back.

"Mom, I'm scared," she said.

My friend came to stand closer to her daughter, assuring her again that it was safe to give the carrot to Little Love. Again the little girl brought the carrot slowly towards the mare, until it was right in front of her face. But the mare merely looked at the child and didn’t make an attempt to reach for the treat. The girl pulled her hand away, telling her mom she was too scared to feed the horse. My friend took the carrot from her daughter and brought it toward Little Love in the exact same place the little girl had brought it. My horse, as if seeing the carrot for the first time, immediately stretched her nose out and took it.

"I couldn't believe it," my friend wrote in her email. "It was obvious that Little Love could feel my daughter's fear and didn't want to scare her any further by taking the carrot. Now I know what you mean when you talk about emotional intelligence and how horses always know how we feel."

And don’t they do exactly that, know how we feel? Sometimes they know even better than we do. But we shouldn’t write off our own ability to feel the energy of others, because we all have that ability. Don’t they say that 90% of our communication is non-verbal?

I am sure all of us have been in the same room with someone who is in a bad mood. Or worse, we know someone who is an eternal pessimist. You feel their negative energy swarming around you, eating away at your good mood. These are the energy thieves of our lives; people who suck away our positive emotions as if they were mere dust bunnies under our couch.

I believe emotions can travel over time and space, that they have no boundaries when it comes to the material world. I haven’t always thought this way, but the more emotional awareness I possess, the more I discover about the power of emotions. To feel someone’s pain, you don’t necessarily need to be in the same space with them. In fact, you could be miles away.

Ten years ago, far before I had ever even heard of emotional communication, a friend of mine had a bad accident. At the time I was thousands of miles away in a different time zone, sleeping. At exactly the time of the accident, I jolted awake. I looked at the clock; it was 1:15 in the morning. I knew something bad had happened and I knew this without a doubt. I dug out my cell phone and placed a call to the other side of the world where it was day time just to hear the bad news.

This is an extreme example, as it does not always take an accident to “feel” someone from a distance. I have often thought of an old friend or acquaintance, someone I haven’t talked to for a long time, even years, and just minutes later that person calls me or sends me an email. We do it all the time, send our emotions and energy into the universe, without realizing that there are others out there receiving it. That in mind, I ask you the question: what kind of energy do you want to send into the world today?

This week I was teaching a new student. She is a very technical rider, who wants to learn more about her seat and how she can be effective on a horse. She was riding a high strung mare, who was trying her hardest to understand what the human on top of her wanted. The mare wasn’t doing too badly. My student, however, was highly frustrated. She had only negative things to say about her mount, a horse that she rode on a once a week basis.

“She is so crooked,” my student moaned for the umpteenth time. “I’m trying to keep my thigh down, but it’s so hard when the horse is not cooperating. It’s so frustrating.”

Having listened to her complaints about the horse for quite a while, I finally decided to address the issue.

“Let’s talk about your frustration for a moment,” I said. “How do you think the horse feels when you feel frustrated?”

My student was struggling to stay with the horse’s trot, but she still managed a quick look at me from under her brow. It was a look of confusion. This was only our third lesson together, so she had no idea what to expect. I thought about the young mother on the airplane with her crying baby. Just like her, my student was unaware of how much her emotions were affecting the situation.

I asked my student to transition to walk. I was fairly sure the proceeding conversation would take her out of her comfort zone and we could communicate better face to face. I repeated my question.

“I don’t know,” my student answered. I could see she was thinking. I tried again.

“Why do you think she runs away from you?”

My student gave me another glance. She wrinkled her brow. I continued.

“Horses communicate with emotions; they know how we feel and they use that as information. I know you want to have the perfect ride on this horse. But I think your frustration and negative attitude towards her is going to prevent you from achieving this perfect ride.”

My student looked at me quizzically.

“It will never be perfect, because there are so many things that just don’t work,” she said.

“But there are also so many that do,” I pointed out. “I know you are frustrated that you can’t keep your thigh in the correct position, but you did it many times today. Just as this horse was at times not crooked, but straight.”

When my student didn’t respond, I continued: ““She is doing her best, just like you are. In fact, you both deserve a bit of love and appreciation. How about, instead of getting frustrated, you could try a bit of empathy,” I said. “Thank the horse for trying so hard. Send her some love. Appreciate her effort.” I smiled.

My student looked away. I could tell we were treading through an area in life she was not familiar with.

“If you want to ride this horse well,” I pressed, “you have to get her on your side. At the moment you are fighting each other. Why not join forces and do it together?”

Our conversation continued for over thirty minutes. In the end, my student participated carefully, but I’m not sure she truly understood what I was after. She seemed very uncomfortable talking about her emotions and even more uncomfortable talking about the horse’s emotions. But, I strongly believe that once upon a time when she first started riding, these very emotions where the thing that drew her to horses. Perhaps she has never been conscious of that before, but if she continues to ride with me, I will definitely keep asking her to face these important questions.

A few weeks ago I found the work of Japanese Dr. Emoto by accident. According to Dr. Emoto, an ice crystal of distilled water exhibits a basic hexagonal structure with no intricate branching. Emoto claims that positive changes to water crystals can be achieved through prayer, music or by attaching written words to a container of water. In other words, human vibrational energy, thoughts, words and music affect the molecular structure of water.

Sounds pretty incredible, doesn’t it? Especially when we remember that most of our body is made of what else, but water. I looked at pictures of these ice crystals and marveled over the beauty of how positive words and intent had managed to change the consistency of water. Words like “love” and “gratitude” produced the most beautiful ones when other words such as “murder” portrayed muddled, ugly formations.

Dr. Emoto is criticized for going directly to the public with misleading claims that violate basic laws of physics and are based on methods that fail to properly investigate the truth of the claims. I agree, perhaps Dr. Emoto’s experiments are not the most scientific kind. But, on the other hand, how do you measure emotion or intent or prayer? Sounds impossible. We can only choose to believe in their power, even if it cannot be proven scientifically.

There is an old Finnish saying: “Niin se metsä vastaa, kuin sinne huudetaan.” The literal translation of this is: The forest will answer as you call into it. In other words, what you hear is the “echo” of your own “voice”. I believe this is the lesson horses try to teach us day after day. They are the mirrors of our existence, they show us who we are and what we feel, not to judge us, but to help us find the correct way to be in this world.

When I go to the barn to visit Little Love, I go there with the purpose of connecting with my horse emotionally. In her presence I feel a stillness I cannot find elsewhere. I believe this stillness reflects the understanding we have for each other; we have nothing to hide, but everything to reveal, vulnerabilities and all. If I am distracted, the phone rings or my busy life interferes with my thoughts, she disconnects from me immediately and the Zen is gone. So, to avoid this, I try to stay with her, in the moment, to feel the peace I can no longer live without. In fact, every day I hope to take a part of Little Love’s peace with me and share it with the rest of the world. But, compared to my horse I am still a minor league player in this game called emotional intelligence. I want to think, however, that if I froze the water in the plastic bottle sitting on my desk, it would freeze into magnificent and life altering ice crystals.

Love, ~K

Ps. The above picture is of the frozen water from the Fujiwara dam after Buddhist monks had offered a prayer over the toxic water.

Cookie

2011-09-20T09:58:00.000-07:00

That which the dream shows is the shadow of such wisdom as exists in man, even if during his waking state he may know nothing about it.... We do not know it because we are fooling away our time with outward and perishing things, and are asleep in regard to that which is real within ourselves. ~Paracelsus, quoted in The Dream Game

It was about a year and a half ago when I had the first dream. I was riding a brown and white paint bareback. As often happens in my dreams, I wasn’t myself, but rather a young Native American girl with black hair down to the waist. We were riding in the forest and I could hear the leaves rustling on the path we were taking. When a stick snapped in half under the weight of my mount, I bent over and whispered: “Ssshhhhh. We are hiding.”

The next time I saw the pony, he appeared in a dream that had something to do with a big hotel. I can’t recall the details, except that the same brown and white pony was there, hovering in the backdrop of my sub consciousness. Who was this pony? Why was I dreaming about it? The pony disappeared for a while, but only to show up again months later. Every time I woke up remembering nothing else about the dream except the soft look on the pony’s face.

I believe dreams have something to tell us, important messages we are left ignored in our waking life. Or, if you believe in past lives, dreams are a vessel that takes you back to the wisdom you learned long time ago, but forgot you ever had. And sometimes, if you are lucky, dreams help you look into the future. I have always been a vivid dreamer; sometimes I wake up in the morning feeling exhausted after what seems like hours of action. Other times I lie in bed and marvel over the insanity of my imagination. And then there are times when I open my eyes remembering nothing else but a small lingering detail, almost like remnants of a feeling or a thought.

I didn’t know anyone who owned a brown and white paint, but I did know that this pony had something to say to me. When I met horses with similar coloring, I felt drawn to them, as if inherently I was looking for something, or rather – someone. I talked to my friend about my dreams, and together we wondered if this pony was someone I had known long time ago, in another life time, or perhaps someone I would once meet, years from now. Whatever the answer, I knew that even if I never saw the brown and white pony in real life, it had made a permanent impression on me through my dreams.

That all said, I would like to share an email I received from one of my readers a few weeks ago.

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I’m Carol, keeper of 3 beautiful horses who along with our 3 dogs, 2 cats and 3 chickens are my reason for getting up every morning – I do work too but am self-employed as both a travel agent (for the income) and as an equine herbalist (for the knowledge and pleasure).

My 3 horses are Kelso, our herd leader, a wonderful gentle gentleman, aged 22, ex-show cob (not in my lifetime) who has been with me for apx 5 years – Kelso is semi-retired, a bit arthritic, a nice gentle plod out when weather conditions permit for him (chronic sweet itch so can’t go out often in the summer as too hot/fly-ridden). Then we have Murphy, now aged 17, and my ‘special’ boy who came to me 10 years ago when I got back into horse ownership following injury which kept me out of the saddle for 8 years – he was my ‘green + green = let’s figure it out between us’ and he is totally under my skin. Finally there’s Cookie, now 11, our adorable native pony who came to us 6 years ago as our daughter’s third pony.

It is about Cookie that I am sending you this private message because discovering your blog by accident has, I think, given me the answer to my gnawing underlying concern I’ve been going through for the past few weeks.

Cookie is adorable. She’s kind, gentle, sensitive, loving, affectionate. She’s Kelso’s personal grooming slave which is interesting considering he’s almost 16hh and she’s 13.2hh. She stands her ground with her two ‘brothers’ but is devoted to them, as they are to her. Our herd seems very content and happy together.

My ‘human’ situation is this. Around 3 years ago it became very obvious that our daughter was losing interest in riding and her pony in general. Not because of anything Cookie had done. She was simply losing interest, as sometimes happens – either it’s in you (as it was for me as a pony mad child which has stayed with me all my life – I’m now 53), or it’s not. Husband and I were really upset as our daughter and Cookie had had the most wonderful time together – they’d done a bit of Pony Club, cross country, show jumping lessons, and wonderful family trail rides at weekends. We just couldn’t believe that almost overnight, she lost interest.

Nothing I could do would get my daughter interested. Bribery, punishment, you name it – nothing worked, and so I ended up with a reluctant, pouting, sulky child riding because I forced her too. Eventually I gave up as the whole riding experience made me miserable to the point where I finally realized I wasn’t enjoying it. I resolved to loan Cookie out to a family where she would be ridden and loved.

Cookie lasted 2 weeks with the first family. She was desperately unhappy, didn’t settle, and when the opportunity arose she would bolt across a field and dump the child in the hedge. So Cookie came back home – admittedly it was lovely to have her back because I adore this pony and hated to see her go.

I found a lovely petite adult to ride Cookie out with me for a short while, so for the time being we kept Cookie moving while I hoped that my daughter would change her mind.

We then found a wonderful private yard right behind our house so we moved the horses, which meant I lost my petite adult. I advertised for a ‘sharer’ and we found mum Sue with daughter Hollie who absolutely loved Cookie on site. We went out for a lovely hack and Hollie did very well so the deal was done – Hollie would become Cookie’s sharer. Until Cookie decided she didn’t want to leave the boys and go off on her own, and again she bolted across fields and dumped Hollie in the hedge, so that was the end of Hollie.

After a few months I had a brainwave. Ask the local trekking centre if they could use a 13.2 pony! After all, Cookie came to us from a trekking centre so it would be an ideal environment for her, plenty of pony company, and she’d be ridden! The proprietor said she’d give Cookie a go and picked her up. Two weeks later Cookie was back. Apparently she ‘didn’t settle well’ and despite putting one of her most fearless, competent riders on her, Cookie made her feel very nervous – not ideal for a trekking centre with novice children. I remember thinking at the time that the owner hadn’t given Cookie long enough to settle, but I wasn’t going to leave her there if she wasn’t happy. So Cookie came home again.

By now I was started to get the impression that Cookie didn’t want to leave us. We’d tried to find her other riders but each time, and very out of character with her (she’d never bolted or thrown my daughter in all the time she rode her), Cookie came home. I decided that Cookie had spoken, and finally I’d listened – Cookie wasn’t going anywhere.

Again we had a long gap where Cookie wasn’t being ridden. However, she never seemed bothered by it, and on the odd occasion when I plodded out on Kelso I would lead her off the big fella and we’d all get a leg-stretch. She never showed any adverse signs of not being ridden other than getting a bit porky but being a herbalist I manage their environment and supplement them all with appropriate blends to keep them healthy – they’re also all barefoot and we ride bitless.

Then around 4 months ago I found a wonderful sharer, again a petite adult, who adored Cookie, and together they’d go off for hours over the countryside and pop over jumps and have the best time ever. Cookie lost weight, fittened up, and looked and seemed very happy. Then unexpectedly, a month ago we lost our sharer as she suddenly had to move house. Us humans were all devastated, sharer included, and once again Cookie had no rider.

So this last week I’ve been battling with myself with my head saying ‘Cookie needs to be ridden’, ‘Cookie needs to be ridden’. I finally called a local riding school on Friday asking if she could be useful to them. They came, saw, loved her, and I’m meant to be taking her over tomorrow. It’s only a mile or so away so not far, and the arrangement is that I’ll go over every day to help her settle, and if she doesn’t, she comes home again.

Hurrah! I’ve found what seems like a great home for Cookie, with plenty for her to do, lots of kiddies to love, cuddle and groom her, she’ll get fit and be happy!

So here’s my human dilemma. Why, since Friday, when I should be riding on the crest of this ‘I’ve sorted something for Cookie’, have I had an underlying niggle saying ‘no’, and to keep Cookie with her boys and us in our lovely paddock. I seem to have this eternal ‘thing’ in my head that says that Cookie needs to be ridden – why? For her health, happiness, sanity? Isn’t it what ponies are meant to do? Won’t she just get stale and vice-y if she doesn’t ‘do’ anything?

So why have I now been worrying all weekend that Cookie won’t settle, she’s told me enough time in the last couple of years that she doesn’t want to leave us . . . and why am I so hell bent on thinking that she HAS to be ridden?

My two selves are fighting each other – the sensible Carol is saying, for god’s sake get a grip, it’s a fantastic life for Cookie, let her go there, settle her in, she’ll always be ours, and when she’s older and no longer rideable she comes home to retire. The sensitive, emotional, instinctive Carol is saying ‘no’, it’s another move for Cookie, a separation from her boys and from us, and that’s not healthy, not good for her happiness, not good for her sanity.

Sensible brain/emotional brain – neither one’s winning. Yet now I’m trying to find excuses in my head for not taking her over tomorrow, even though I know there’s no written agreement, no sale, no anything!

So, to bring this all together, I was reading a blog the other day – Thursday, I think, where the blogger mentioned she’d discovered your blog and had spent so much time reading it that her family didn’t get their dinner that night. I clicked on the link, and started reading it. Loved it. Say no more. My family barely got their dinner that night either.

I haven’t had a chance to read more of it since then until this morning. I’m an early riser (horses/dogs/cats/chooks) – husband isn’t, so my weekend mornings are a nice, quiet, me-moment to go back to bed with a coffee, laptop, plug in headphones with nice soothing music and play blog catch-up. I uploaded yours and read your entire first page from top to bottom.

When I got to the post ‘To Live Life Backwards’, something stirred in me. Not that your situation was the same as one of mine, but it was the calling of Little Love’s name. I do that with Cookie from a distance. She lifts her head, no matter how far away, and starts walking towards me. Murf does too. It’s special, and makes me feel good and warm and fuzzy. I don’t kid myself that it’s not pure cupboard love, but still makes me feel nice. Fact is, she knows me, knows her name, recognizes my call.

Then I got to ‘Never Forget Me’. Now I started to become aware that this was getting a bit spooky. Blimey, I thought. I was meant to read this. What ifs. What if I sent her to this riding school and in the months to come we passed her on the trails – what if she recognised us, or Murf or Kelso (depending on who I was on) recognised her – what if they started calling to each other, as they do now when I’m leaving/returning to the yard and they’re all calling out to each other? What if Cookie will really, really miss us. Which she’s demonstrated several times in the past that she does.

Then we got to ‘Unmapped Country’. By now I was aware of the spookiness of the coincidence that your blog posts were here especially for me to read. Why does Cookie ‘have’ to be ridden? I can only put this down to some ingrained training or ‘expectation’ that comes with years of riding and horse ownership. This post put everything in perspective to me. She doesn’t ‘need’ to be ridden. No matter what the circumstances, in your blog’s case a scared rider (haven’t we all been there!) which is NOT the case for Cookie, but more my expectation that it’s the RIGHT thing for Cookie. But isn’t her being happy, content, safe, secure, loved and settled in her existing regime with her boys all she wants and needs?

I’m so glad I read your blog. Part of me still thinks the riding school is the better option for her as of COURSE she’ll settle – eventually. But the other part of me, having read your blog, now has the majority vote. I’m going to call the riding school today and thank them enormously for their consideration but decline their lovely offer. Cookie stays put, happy in her 4 acres with her boys, and I’ll just keep plodding out with her on occasion with the big boy to give her an occasional change of scenery.

To conclude, the Carol insecurity is tightening in my chest and is saying that if after all this, you think I’m terribly terribly wrong, I’d love to hear it! However, in some spooky, ethereal other-universe way, I think I was meant to read your blog, right now, at this time, day and age. I could have been about to do the worst possible thing for our gorgeous, sensitive, loving girl. Or the best. Either way though, she’ll be perfectly happy staying put until I eventually, possibly, maybe, find someone else to come and ride her.

------

I don’t know about you, but when I first read Carol’s email, I was rooting for Cookie. I could see this opinionated little mare before me as if she was really there. Cookie obviously deserved to be heard. I wrote Carol back immediately, supporting her decision to keep Cookie at home with the boys. When Carol wrote back, relieved I had taken the time to answer, she said: “Cookie must have sensed that I was calmer and back to my 'normal' self after reading your reply - we all went to the yard as a family (a rare thing - usually it's just me), and husband Richard and I were cuddling the girl with Rich by her withers and her head in my tummy. The sun was shining, the air was still and warm. Cookie then turned her head round to Rich and nudged him. The next second Richard jumped up over her back, no prompting from me, and just lay across her. Bear in mind he's a good 13stone-plus, and hasn't ridden for years, let alone lain across a bareback, untacked pony! Very out of character! Cookie remained stock still, very chilled. Next thing Rich scrabbled his legs up and over and sat on Cookie. She stayed looking really happy and calm. Then Rich leaned forward up her neck and wrapped his arms around her, giving her a big cuddle. He stayed there for ages, just cuddling our girl. 'Are you comfy?' I asked. 'Yes, really comfy,' he said, and grinned the biggest grin at me. 'I've never sat on Cookie before.' 'I know!' I replied. It was a lovely moment. Then he slid off and we were all back to normal.”

Carol also attached a picture of Cookie. When I opened the file, I cried out loud; Cookie looked exactly like the pony from my dreams! The strange thing was that I had somehow known this all along. From the moment I started reading Carol’s first email, I had imagined Cookie to be a brown and white paint. I had never met Carol, nor did I know if she would think I was completely crazy, but I felt a need to tell her about my dreams. I wasn’t sure how she would react, but it ddn't matter, I just had to share my experience. She said: "...here's my freaky back to you. Don't know why but I somehow felt that you'd connect with Cookie - I felt a real need to email her photo over to you…it's quirky how life pans out, but this great big universe of ours is a whole lot more powerful than we can even begin to understand!”

Carol was certainly right about the universe part. I can’t tell you for sure if Cookie is the pony I had seen so many times in my dreams, but I do know that I haven’t seen her since. Did Cookie and I connect months before I connected with her owner? I will never know, but I have a strong feeling that something out of the ordinary happened here. Or, on second thought, is this something that occurs all the time, but we just happen to miss it? I do believe we are all connected over the vast universe by the energy between us. In my case this connection used to be something I was not aware of, but slowly, as I have connected more and more with horses, I have also discovered an uncanny ability within myself to “know” things. There are so many things I cannot even begin to understand about the aptitude we posses, but I do know I want to understand it further. Why does heeling by prayer/manifesting seem to work? How can I sometimes feel other people’s emotions, even if they aren’t with me at the time? How does my energy affect others; people, animals, plants? Can we balance the bad energy in the world by adding more good energy? If I think of someone I haven’t seen for a while, can they feel it? Do things happen for a reason?

I wanted to share Cookie’s story because it awakened so many question in me. I hope it does the same for you. We may not know the answers – yet, but what I do know without a doubt is that our souls are more powerful than we can ever imagine.

Thank you Carol for allowing me to post a picture of Cookie and share your eloquently written story about this amazing pony!

PS. I have been writing this blog for two and a half years and one of my favorite things to do is to read the comments people leave. Occasionally I receive emails from people who have felt a need to comment personally on what I have written. Many of these letters have moved me to tears; the heartfelt stories of the authors and their horses are often powerful and charged with emotion. When I started writing this blog, I never imagined it would offer me this sort of a connection with people I have never physically met. It proves to me that even if sometimes we may feel lonely in our thoughts and beliefs, we are never completely alone. There is always someone else in the world, experiencing something similar. Thank you for reading (and writing)!

“Black horse wisdom is felt more deeply than it can ever be explained…It champions knowledge rejected by the mainstream: instinct, emotion, intuition, sensory and extrasensory awareness and the human-animal partnership often associated with tribal cultures…It is an innately pure, nonjaded, spirited, yet immature, source of knowledge. It has been neglected for so long that it initially lacks the ability to interface directly with the modern human mind.” - Linda Kohanov

The Flower

2011-08-15T11:03:00.000-07:00

An essay about Time, Teaching and Treasures

"The clock talked loud. I threw it away, it scared me what it talked." ~Tillie Olsen, Tell Me a Riddle

Last spring I ran into an old student, who had recently bought herself yet another horse. She invited me to come and give her a lesson, “for old time’s sake”. This I knew meant that she had run into problems with her new horse, as I had never known her to ask for a lesson with me unless the other trainers she rode with had failed to help her. I agreed, mainly because I was curious, but also because I felt that I had never really been able to reach the woman in terms of helping her understand her horses. She had always been very set on the traditional way of training. She had goals for herself and her mounts; therefore she wanted results and she wanted them fast. But, behind all this there was something else, something waiting to be ignited; she had, after all, periodically sought lessons from me.

When I arrived, she had the new horse tacked up. He had just turned four years old and was standing obediently in the middle of the indoor arena. I noted the drawreins hanging on the horse’s neck. I knew immediately this was the real reason I was there to give the lesson. My student read my thoughts.

“I know I know, I shouldn’t use drawreins, but I just have them for security.”

“Security,” I repeated and gave the gelding a horse-human handshake by extending the back of my hand out and letting him sniff it. There was something very touching about how he approached me, as if he was surprised I had acknowledged his presence.

“He is normally really calm, but then suddenly, without any reason, he goes completely crazy. He lifts his head up and takes off. I just can’t have that. It’s dangerous for one thing.”

I nodded, looking at the horse. The phrase that had caught my ear was “without any reason”. There was always a reason. But I didn’t say that out loud, because I knew that such a statement would surely end the conversation. Nobody wants to hear that they are incompetent in interpreting their horse. At least not point-blank within the first two minutes of the conversation. I would get there later.

“And does this occur every time you ride him?” I asked.

“No, that’s the thing, I can never know when it’s going to happen. One day he’s perfect and the next he flips out. That’s why I have the drawreins, so I can stop him if he goes nuts.”

“I see,” I said and stroked the neck of the young horse listening to him play with the bit in his mouth. It made a jingling noise, something I had never paid attention to years ago, but which now sounded as loud as a church bell. So many messages were hidden in every little thing that took place in a horse-human interaction, even in something as commonplace as this noise.

I asked the woman more questions and found out that the gelding only had these episodes in the arena, never on the trails. In fact, on the trails he was apparently “an angel”. Also, the fits never happened while longing or long-reining, only under saddle. The saddle had been checked, the osteopath had been consulted. Even the vet had been out.

“He does it with the trainer, too, and she’s a good rider,” the owner concluded. “So, it’s not just me.” She sighed and looked sad. “In the beginning he was the perfect horse, but now… I don’t know, maybe I should sell him. Or what do you think? Do you think he can get over this?”

I closed my eyes. When people use the expression “perfect horse”, something stirs inside me, even though I don’t know how many times I have used that very same expression myself. Sometimes I believe I teach students such as this lady just because I have a need to repent my past. Facing your old self over and over again can turn into a sort of cathartic experience. It also helps in defining the line between the person you were before and who you are now. I searched for the right words to say, words that would sink in, instead of blow over.

“Perhaps he feels he is being pushed beyond his limit,” I said.

My student shook her head and looked at her horse. “Yeah, but my other young horse never does this and we push him way more.”

“But perhaps this guy needs a little less pushing and a little more time. We are all different.”

The lady looked at me and wrinkled her brow.

“But he’s a horse,” she said.

Yes indeed, he was a horse. A breathing and feeling sentient being. I could see the wheels turning in the lady’s head. She shrugged. “We don’t have time,” she said. “I was planning to enter him in some young horse classes this summer.”

“Here’s another thought,” I continued, ignoring her comment about the competitions and not having time. I didn’t know if this was the perfect moment to share my earlier thoughts, but I had to go for it or the moment would be lost forever. “What if you don’t look at this behavior as bad, but instead see it as a means of communication.” I pointed at her young gelding. “What do you think he is trying to tell you and your trainers?”

“What do you mean?”

“I’m just saying that there is always a reason why a horse behaves a certain way. They are not trying to be naughty, but rather trying to tell us something. ” I stroked the gelding’s neck. “It is your responsibility to figure out what the message is.”

I could see that I had perhaps gone a bit far. The lady looked very confused and perhaps a bit offended. I decided to commence the lesson and come back to the subject later. Sometimes, when you really challenge someone’s belief system, they shut down to all information. I didn’t want to ruin the opportunity to awaken this woman’s budding realization of how to understand her horse.

But something my student had said kept playing in my head; “We don’t have time”. What was it with our current society’s growing obsession with getting everything made for them on the spot? What ever happened to perseverance?

Ironically around the same time I gave this lesson, I was learning about perseverance myself. Little Love, my horse, has several traits that most people would call “deal breakers”, were they considering to buy her. One of her long time issue has to do with her inability to enter small spaces, such as a trailer. I, too, was faced with this problem when I bought her in the beginning of the year. As I fought with her in the pouring rain for nearly two hours, I thought to myself: “Never again”. I swore on the spot to work on the issue, giving it time, actual real time, to help Little Love get over her fear of the trailer.

Luckily the place where I moved had a trailer, and not only that, but a trailer that opened from both the front and the back, so the horse could walk through. This gave me the perfect opportunity to help Little Love with her fear. The starting situation was grim; if the ramp was down, Little Love was immediately agitated and anxious, as if she was anticipating something bad to happen even if I never asked her to approach the trailer. She needed something she had never truly gotten when it came to trailers and that was Time with a capital T.

Giving my horse Time took some training on my side. I, too, have a long history in an equestrian culture where you must produce results and fast. I had seen all kinds of people from “horse whispers” to natural horsemanship trainers load problem horses. All those methods were based on some sort of pressure and force, and were geared towards making the horse a perfect loader in a set time frame. “Look, I can load the unloadable horse in less than 30 minutes!” A few years ago it had appeared to me that those horses were “perfect” loaders. It wasn’t until later that I understood that it came with a price. Did I want my horse to be bullied into a trailer? Definitely not.

I decided to merely expose my horse to the trailer several times a week. But I couldn’t help myself; I asked her over and over again to come on to the ramp with one foot. Despite my good intentions, I was still falling into the trap of trying to get immediate results. No matter how much I swore I had no time restraints or goals, it wasn’t true; I subconsciously hoped for progress and tried to push for it. I also noticed my own heightened anxiety every time my horse approached the trailer. Not only did my horse need time to learn to go into the trailer, I needed time to learn to let go of the “trainer” within. I decided to always ask only twice and accept the answer, whatever that was.

I won’t lie: I was happy when a few days later my mare was comfortable with standing on the ramp with her front feet. I was encouraged about her progress, immediately visioning the next step and then the next. But then I stopped myself. What was I doing - again? I looked at my horse as she backed off the ramp on her own. I didn’t interfere. I’m sure this broke the basic rule of most trainers in the world, for I too had been drilled since childhood to “never let the horse have the last word.” But I realized that perhaps this was exactly the way to go.

I stopped leading my mare to the trailer, but instead let her loose in the vicinity. This gave my horse the opportunity to choose for herself. She started walking to the trailer confidently, instead of anxiously. She still only put her front feet on the ramp, but I told myself the rest would come later. But it didn’t. I put a bucket of food inside the trailer, but for days and weeks Little Love merely stood on the ramp. I actually started to give up ever getting her inside without force. Talk about perseverance... I kept on going.

Then one day, she walked in. Just like that. I didn’t lead her in, but rather opened the door and let my horse choose to go in. From that day on, she always went in when I opened the trailer. Slowly we started practicing standing in the trailer instead of just walking through. When I closed the back bar for the first time, she walked out the open front, knocking the grain bucket over. I didn’t try to stop her. I had finally realized what it meant to “take time”. It wasn't only about the time, it was also about what I did with that time.

In the course of three months, I had a horse that would load by herself and trailer without sweating. Were we done learning? Hardly. But my horse was learning to accept the trailer and I was learning what it meant to empower your horse. I was also learning lots of things about what it meant to take time. In the meanwhile, our bond became stronger and changed our relationship to the better. It also changed me. I am not in any rush now when it comes to horses. My only wish is to convey this message to the world: if you take time, you stumble upon invisible inner treasures you never knew existed. But how do you convey a message to people who are not ready to hear? This was my problem with the lady who owned the young gelding.

She called me back two weeks after our lesson. The lesson had gone well from my point of view, but afterwards I was fairly sure I would never hear from this woman again. Many things had surfaced during the hour and all of them had something to do with the ethics of horsemanship. Should she push this horse past his limit? Should she listen to him and see his “fits” as means of communication? Could she look at her own riding and admit how much her own tension, her baggage and her expectations were affecting this sensitive animal and his reactions? Could she resist the urge to sell this “imperfect” animal and instead find the time to work with him? Needless to say I was encouraged to hear her voice on the other end of the line.

“I’ve really been thinking,” she started the conversation, “that you may have a point. I think we are pushing this horse too much.”

I smiled at my cell phone.

“I’m happy you have been doing some reflecting. I could see at the end of our lesson that you were quite confused and perhaps unhappy.”

“Oh yeah, it was bad. I went home and cried. I was depressed for days. But I needed to do that to really see what was going on. The problem is now my two trainers. They think I’m crazy. They think the horse should just be shown his place, that they should force him to comply at any cost when he has his fits. Last time they rode him, they fought with him for two hours.”

“Remember, he is still your horse,” I said. I know I sounded calm and matter of fact, but I wanted to scream. I don’t believe anybody wants to be violent towards animals; it is just the old traditions, the way equestrian sports have evolved, that make people unable to see anything wrong with what they are doing. Hadn’t I been one of these people a few years ago? How could I judge them now? I knew anger would get me nowhere.

“I know it’s scary to stand up to professionals in this field, but I really advise you to go with your gut feeling. You are an experienced enough rider to ride him and teach him the basics. Then you can do it on your own terms. Or rather, the terms of your horse.”

“Yeah,” my student said at the other end of the phone connection. “I actually told the trainers we should take a break. I think the gelding needs some time. And I need some time to think.”

I took a deep breath. This is what I had been hoping to hear. Tears sprung to my eyes, but they were happy tears. Ever since I parted onto this other path, the Path of the Horse, I have experienced a variety of emotions. Mainly there has been a lot of sadness as my heart aches for the things I have done in the past. But there is also another ache, the ache for the present as there are so many horses in the world that suffer abuse on a daily basis. Teaching riding is becoming increasingly harder for me, but it is moments like these that make it worthwhile. I commended my old student for making the decision. This particular horse needed probably more than a break, but a break was a step in the right direction.

I believe each horse is perfect in their own right. If your dream for your horse does not align with reality, perhaps it is time to either adjust your dream or the methods you are using to achieve the dream. We talk about taking time with horses, either giving them the time to learn or the time to adjust. But have we ever stopped to think what this really means? What, for example, is enough time for a young horse to learn the basics of riding or to load into a trailer? Two hours? Two months? Two years? A life time? When it comes to any learning, is there ever really an end station, or is it rather a long, long track that continues for our entire life? Why do we always want to ride the bullet train instead of taking the man-powered trolley?

Months later I heard my student had gone back to the trainers. This was no surprise. Most people go back to what they know; the other alternative is too scary. I can’t say I wasn’t disheartened by this news of my old student and her young gelding, because I was. But I also was hopeful that whatever happened between us during that last lesson was still present in my student’s heart; that the seed I planted remains somewhere under everything. You never know, it may vegetate in her heart for years only to sprout into a real plant one day; a flower that blooms so spectacularly that it will lead her off the beaten path. And that is exactly where those invisible inner riches reside, off the beaten path.

I have decided to hold on to that image of the flower, as there are days when that is the only thing that keeps me teaching. And it is important to continue teaching for so many reasons.

“We cannot teach people anything; we can only help them discover it within themselves.” – Galileo Galilei

Quicksilver

2011-06-27T14:27:00.000-07:00

“Once your awareness becomes a flame, it burns up the whole slavery that the mind has created.”
- Osho

Today, when a friend and I were visiting a small farm house with a few horses, we met a man who had an Argentinean Criollo. The sturdy little gelding was absolutely beautiful, but eyed us suspiciously from the moment we entered his range of vision. His owner was grooming the horse and I immediately noticed how slowly and deliberately he was moving around him. Before the man could really say anything to us about his horse, my friend marched over to the paint which was tied to the wall of the farm, and pushed both of her hands into his face, rubbing his forehead vigorously.

“You are so cute,” she said loudly and then proceeded to energetically pet the animal’s neck. I winced at the gesture, even though I used pet horses in the same near violent manner some years ago. The horse stood still, but a barely noticeable quiver of panic went through his body and his eyes bulged in his head. I wanted to physically pull my friend away, but at that moment the owner of the horse interfered. He took a step closer to his horse, wedging himself slightly between my friend and the animal.

“This is Arizona. He is quite sensitive and not so sure about people,” he said.

You would think this would have deterred my friend, but she is not one to take hints. Perhaps this is the very reason she seems to have zero ability to read horses, a trait that will undoubtedly one day get her into a lot of trouble. She pushed her hands back into the horses face and this time Arizona backed away, visibly scared. Finally my friend stopped touching the gelding, but still didn’t back away. She turned to look at me, still clueless.

“He is so cute, isn’t he?” She said, with a broad smile on her face.

It was obvious that my friend was not at all aware of the fact that she was frightening Arizona. Nearly every time we are around horses together, I have witnessed behavior from her part which is either dangerous or disrespectful to the horse. Heaven knows I have tried to address these issues, both diplomatically and less so, but with no luck. She does not seem to understand what I’m saying and my good intentions end in awkward silences and blank looks.

I have come to realize that no matter how hard I would like my friend to change her behavior around horses, I cannot force this change. A person cannot change something of which they are not aware. This is perhaps the first lesson I learned 30 years ago when I started teaching vaulting and riding as a young teenager. Since then, it has always been awareness that I strive to bring to my students. When they see what is happening, when they feel their own mistake, they can start realizing the consequences of their own actions. When I was still teaching traditional riding, it didn’t seem to take long for my students to catch onto what I pointed out. Everything was one-dimensional; the rider pulled on the reins unintentionally – the horse slowed down. The rider kicked the horse too hard – the horse scooted off. But now… bringing people’s attention to the subtle cause and effect patterns they are stuck in with their horses is one of the hardest things to do. It is especially difficult when the person in question is not ready to enter such a state of consciousness.

And even when we think we have all the awareness in the world, holding onto it may be the hardest thing we ever do. We are only human and can sometimes make human sized mistakes. Being aware of our place in the universe, of our actions and the impact we have on every living being is like holding quicksilver in the palm of your hand. This deeper level of consciousness escapes us when we least expect it, slipping away just when we think we have it trapped completely. To catch that moment, to return back to that world that is separate from our human world, is like catching quicksilver: one must have quite a bit of patience and motivation and perseverance. Lucky for us humans, horses have all three. I don’t think they will ever cease to bring us back to any given lesson over and over again, until we get it. And this means that perhaps one day my friend, too, will learn to become more aware of her own personal cause and effect .

Over ten years ago, when I was still a vaulting coach, I met a horse called Designer Socks. Socks was an interesting character to say the least and anyone who had the privilege to know him can testify to this. This was a horse who couldn’t speak the human language, yet he spoke volumes of what he liked and disliked, what he wanted and what he didn’t want. Because of this, he had a reputation of being difficult. In fact, when I met him, I called him that myself. Now, in hindsight, I realize that there really is no such thing as a difficult horse, there are just opinionated ones. And then there are truck loads of ignorant humans. Which perhaps is the reason some horses choose to be so animated; they would never get through to us otherwise.

I can’t say I was always quick to catch on to what Socks was pointing out, but he was relentless; he would spell his message out until even a hardheaded equestrian like myself got the picture. And once I allowed myself to listen to Socks, he taught me more than any horse before him had, opening my eyes to so many things.

Socks was extremely sensitive and particular. He would perform beautifully under saddle, but only when he felt like it. If you pushed him too much, he exploded, becoming hotheaded and hyper within seconds. And once he got that bee in his bonnet, there was nothing - short of stopping everything at once- that would calm him down. To ride this horse you had to know him and work with him. And it was the same when it came to vaulting on him. Socks willingly participated in vaulting, but only under one condition: that we did it his way. Forget training a routine for hours; forget running through a team freestyle program several times at the canter. Oh no. The team could have one go at it and then Socks was done. If the vaulters were having a particularly bad day (which meant they were imbalanced or sloppy), he wouldn’t give them even that one go. Which, to think of it, was completely fair. Why would Socks have to be at his best, when other (human) members of the team weren’t?

Sometimes Socks’ messages were extremely subtle and encoding the meaning behind certain behavior would take me more than a few tries. Take for example the issue with the sunglasses. As we were living and practicing in California, there was a lot of sunshine. Coming from Finland, my eyes were especially sensitive and when summer came around, I wore sunglasses nearly all the time. Socks, however, didn’t like this one bit. He this behavior very suspicious, especially when I was lunging him on a circle for vaulting. In the spring, it took me a while to realize it was the sunglasses that had caused the change in him. Once I removed them and Socks could see my eyes again, he was back to his normal self. After that day, I have avoided using sunglasses around horses altogether.

I have since realized that there are many other minor details in the human behavior that can bother horses; hats, perfume, body lotion, laundry detergent - to mention a few. I have noticed that my horse Little Love definitely acts different when I have lathered myself in a body lotion with a strong scent. The first time this happened a few years back, she flared her nostrils and moved away from me, as if I was a stranger. Now I make an effort to never use scented lotion before going to the barn, and have switched to an ecological, scentless laundry detergent in her behalf. Luckily I was never one to wear perfumes in the first place!

Last week, when I was spending time with my mare, Little Love, I received a call on my cell phone. The caller was a young boy whom I had had the privilege to coach in floorball on and off for the past few years. I had seen this boy, now a teenager, grow from a beginner into a skilled athlete. Weeks before all his hard work had paid off and he had been invited to try out for a regional team. This in itself had been big news, but I knew he was calling to tell me the results of the tryout camp.

“Hello,” I answered and saw Little Love, my mare, pin her ears back. Distracted, I ignored the gesture and continued brushing her, holding the phone to my ear with my other hand. I was hoping to have enough time to go out for a walk and I was a bit pressed with time. I moved around her briskly, at the same time listening to what the young boy had to say at the other side of the phone conversation.

Little Love pinned her ears back several times and she stomped her foot; she swished her tail and yanked her foot out of my hand when I was picking the hooves. At that point I should have had the sense to walk away from her, but since I was more focused on the phone conversation, I kept on working around her. And it was a long conversation. By the time I was done talking on the phone, Little Love was tacked up and ready to go. But she didn’t seem ready mentally. Somehow, during the grooming and tacking process, she had become irate and nervous. She stood tied to the grooming rail with her nostrils flaring and her head held high. I could see the whites of her eyes and she paced nervously.

I looked at my horse impatiently. What in the world had gotten into her? Seeing she was anxious and overly energetic, I decided to take her into the arena first, to assess the situation before venturing out. The weather had changed two days earlier and now that the rains had set in, the temperature was much lower. Perhaps the change in weather was causing this behavior? That day was also fairly windy, which I immediately pegged down as another cause for Little Love's "irritation". Obviously I didn't have the brain space at that moment to think very creatively.

In the arena I asked Little Love to trot on the long rope. She literally looked at me and sighed, then started trotting around me with a sour face. A funny feeling filled my chest, as if I had forgotten something important. At first I thought I was feeling nervous about going out with Little Love on such a windy day, but soon realized this was something else. I looked back at what we had done together so far and that was when the thought hit me in the head like a ton of bricks: the phone.

How would you feel if you were having dinner with one of your best friends and in the middle of your time together, she would suddenly start talking on the phone, completely ignoring you, yet continue eating her dinner, as if nothing was wrong? I’m sure you would be hurt – at least I would. I would also feel annoyed and neglected. I would probably want to walk away from the situation.

When we are with horses, we must be with them 100% or not at all. This is a lesson Little Love has taught me over and over again. Staying in the moment is paramount. But of course when you are on the phone, staying in the moment becomes impossible. I believe I knew that already, but somehow had forgotten it. Yet again. Obviously it was time for me to "relearn" it that day.

The realization of how rudely I had just treated my friend came over me like a huge wave.
"I am so sorry," I said out loud to Little Love. "So, so sorry. I can't believe I did that to you."

She licked her lips. I swear she was thinking: "Well duh, finally you have a clue!" I am a slow learner at times.

I have been thinking about Socks a lot lately. I can now see that he had more lessons in store for me than I was able to handle at the time. Perhaps I was a bit like my friend is now, like an elephant in a china shop. And I still have a long way to go. Perhaps that is why Little Love came along the way, to continue the work Socks started. I don’t know if this work will ever be completed, but I sure am trying to be the best student possible and catch that quicksilver. Like they say: the teacher will appear when the student is ready, and I’m definitely ready now.

What comes to that windy day last week when I was talking on my cell phone… After I realized my mistake and sincerely apologized for it, it was as if a switch went off in my horse. She stood by me calmly and all signs of nervousness were gone. We walked out through the barn gate and took a long walk on the trails in the cool summer weather. The strong wind didn’t bother either one of us, quite the contrary, it kept the bugs at bay when we stopped in the middle of the emerald field to graze on the tall, abundant grass. And again, I felt like I was holding that infamous quicksilver in the palm of my hand for a short, glorious moment.

~K

“The mind, this globe of awareness, is a starry universe that when you push off with your foot, a thousand new roads become clear, as you yourself do at dawn, sailing through the light.” ~Rumi

Embrace the World Within

2011-05-25T04:48:00.000-07:00

Last week I attended my second Epona workshop ever. Two years ago, when I plunged into the Epona world of authenticity and emotion for the first time, the experience blew me away and left me a changed person. Although I had been around horses nearly all my life, their capacity to know my deepest secrets caught me by surprise. I was awed by their emotional intelligence.

Going into this second experience, called Accessing Authenticity, was very different. This time I would attend the workshop with Melissa, my best friend. I also wanted to believe I had evolved emotionally in the past two years. But, I also knew that whatever my expectations were, they would pale in comparison to the reality. I was right. I may have been prepared for the wisdom horses have to offer, but their uncanny ability to look into my heart and see what nobody, even myself, had not seen before still does not seize to amaze me.

Perhaps the most revealing of sessions happened with Bramble, a white pony that I felt drawn to from the first time I saw her. It wasn’t her outer appearance that interested me (although she was very cute!), but rather this feeling that she had a message for me. So, when we could choose the horse for our reflective round pen session, the choice was really not mine, but Bramble’s.

I have to mention that last time I did reflective work with a horse in the frame work of an Epona course, my biggest problem was the interference of my head. Most of us have this problem; our thoughts and rational thinking get in the way of what our body and soul is trying to tell us. It is not the easiest task to shut this “voice of reason” off. In fact, it is what Linda Kohanov calls The False Self that often runs our life, giving us no time or space to really feel who we are. Social conditioning, self-judgment, assumptions of others, our need to seek approval, our critical and controlling beliefs are all different ways for the False Self to interfere with our intuition, our Authentic Self.

With this in mind I approached the round pen; I was determined to shut off my False Self and give room to whatever was to come, no matter how irrational or confusing this information may be. The object of the exercise was to treat all emotions, images, words or whatever else appeared as valuable information. This was not about succeeding or achieving a set goal; this was about being in the moment and really listening.

Standing outside the round pen and facing away from Bramble, I started with a body scan. Silently, with closed eyes and my arms hanging loosely on my sides, I “scanned” my body for feelings of pressure, pain, heat, cold – any sensation really. I was immediately drawn to the feeling of pressure around my throat and chest. It was not a painful feeling, but rather felt as if I had a heavy blanket wrapped around me, pressing on the front of my shoulders. Through this pressure I could feel my heart beating in my chest; a strong, clear rhythm, as if standing there required physical effort. I asked myself what was the message behind this feeling and received a picture of myself holding a large ball. When I focused on that image, I could feel my heart beat dissipate into the rest of my body, still pulsating, but with less vigor. This was a sign that I had understood the message my body was trying to tell me. Without questioning this perhaps confusing information I ordinarily would have dismissed as “stupid” or “weird” (A ball? Makes no sense. Why was I holding it? etc.), I turned around and looked at Bramble. She was standing in the round pen, staring at me intently with her ears forward. I closed my eyes again, opening my mind to any other images or messages that would come from the horse.

Immediately, as if I was watching a powerful dream, I had a vision of a very small door. It was in the middle of a stone wall far, far away. I had a strong feeling I was supposed to go through the door, but I could see it was closed. I silently asked Bramble what this meant, could she possibly help me? When I opened my eyes again to look at her, I knew she had the key to this door.

Rosie, the facilitator, asked me what was going on. I filled her in. She nodded and said:

“Do you feel like you need more information on what this is about or do you feel ready to go into the round pen?”

This is the brilliance of being part of the Epona method. I’m fairly sure nothing I said could have fazed Rosie. I had told her about my images about the ball and the door, and in any other context this would have made no sense whatsoever. Imagine trying to explain this to a stranger; I would have sounded crazy. And perhaps you, too, now reading it, are thinking I have lost my marbles once and for all. But it all felt natural. I was confident and relaxed going into the round pen.

I walked over to Bramble and gave her a horse-human handshake, extending the back of my hand out for her to touch. Then I stepped back, closing my eyes. Immediately I was taken back to the image of the door. I asked Bramble what I should do with the door, did she have the key?

“No, no key,” she answered, “The door is already open.”

And she was right, for in that moment I saw the whole wall split open. Suddenly I realized that I was holding the ball again, it was enormous and my hands barely reached around it to steady it on my chest. But now I saw it was not a ball after all, it was the Earth; I had the entire world in my arms. I held onto it tight as I stepped through the wall, towards light.

And that is when I understood what Bramble was trying to help me understand. For some months now I have been planning a move to Finland. Despite this move being a choice that I made with my husband, I have been extremely anxious about the decision. Should we have decided to go to California instead (this is where we lived before Switzerland)? Are we taking a risk going to Finland? What if it doesn’t work? What was there really in Finland for me? In the midst of the logistics of the move, the concrete, everyday tasks, I had not allowed myself to truly reflect on my true emotions concerning the move.

I was filled with a strong sense of knowing, which I cannot even begin to describe, as words have their limitations. I realized I had lived in Switzerland for six years, but had never truly been happy there. Why? This question has gone unanswered until that very moment in the round pen. I have met many wonderful people in Switzerland, people whom have made a definite impact on my life. But, despite these friendships, I feel strongly disconnected from the world around me. This probably partly stems from the fact that during my years in Switzerland, I have gone through some major changes in my life, searching for the right path with horses and myself as a person. In other words, I feel separate and detached.

Moving to Finland is an opportunity to change this. In Finland I will be welcomed by a group of close friends, but also a larger network of like-minded people with whom I have connected long distance over the years. For the first time since I left California six years ago, I have the opportunity to be part of a true community; to be supported and accepted as who I am. The realization of this was profound and I felt like a weight was lifted off my chest. Hope for the future was restored. In fact, as my eyes were still closed, I saw the enormous globe I had been holding slowly sink into my chest, as if I was swallowing Mother Earth itself. And isn’t this true? Community is not something outside of us, but rather an internal phenomenon that we cherish and that connects us to others. Instead of seeing myself as someone roaming the earth looking for answers, I needed to embrace the world within.

I had been squatting down on the ground, but now I stood up and opened my eyes. Bramble was looking at me quizzically with her wise, beautiful eyes. I stepped to her side and said a silent thank you. She touched me with her nose and the air was filled with gratitude. Then she walked to the gate as if to say “my work is done.” Which it was.

I left the round pen with a newly found peace. Life would be alright, I would be alright. Why had I not seen this all before? I had been so focused on getting myself, my horse, my family to Finland, that I had not taken the time to stop and realize what moving back to my home country really meant to me. When I returned to my chair and recapped the round pen experience to Rosie and Melissa, I became very emotional, but in a good way. The tears that surfaced were tears of relief and joy and hope, tears I should have shed a long time ago, instead of bottling them deep inside.

Intuition is perhaps the most important piece of our genetic makeup. Unfortunately it is usually the first piece we lose, when life gets the best of us. Most people ignore their intuition. Actually, most people wouldn’t even recognize their intuition, even if it hit them in the head (which is often does…). Animals, such as horses, operate in the world using their intuition, their sixth sense of “knowing”. Often I think that our ability to speak is what stifles our innate knowing of what we need, what is right for us and only us. The great French writer, Gustave Flaubert, wrote about this in his first novel, Madame Bovary, when he said that “…the truth is that fullness of soul can sometimes overflow in utter vapidity of language, for none of us can ever express the exact measure of his needs or his thoughts or his sorrows; the human speech is like a cracked kettle on which we tap crude rhythms for bears to dance to, while we long to make music that will melt the starts.”

I left England and the Epona course with a better sense of knowing. I felt more at peace than I had for a long time, more in my body rather than in my head. So often, especially in a time of turmoil, my head takes over and I am plunged into a destructive pattern of frantic thinking. I am not saying thinking is a bad thing, but enough is enough. Sometimes I need to stop and take tally of what I really feel and where those feelings are coming from. What are those feelings telling me? What is the message my intuition is sending me? What does my heart desire?

I believe that if we open ourselves to life, life will flow freely into our bodies and we will be able to feel the present moment more deeply. Yes, this can be scary at time as often there are emotions within us that are not comfortable. But each emotion is a pool of information and if we learn to treat our feelings as messages from our heart, our lives could have so much more meaning.

I thank Bramble and all the horses in the world for not giving up on us humans. You seem to always be ready to help us the moment we are ready to receive the help. I don’t think I can ever understand this gift you have, but I know that I will admire it forever.

~K

Wild Geese

By Mary Oliver

You do not have to be good
You do not have to walk on your knees
for a hundred miles through the desert, repenting.
You only have to let the soft animal of your body
love what it loves.
Tell me about despair, yours, and I will tell you mine.
Meanwhile the world goes on.
Meanwhile the sun and the clear pebbles of the rain
are moving across the landscapes,
over the prairies and the deep trees,
the mountains and the rivers.
Meanwhile the wild geese, high in the clear blue air,
are heading home again.
Whoever you are, no matter how lonely,
the world offers itself to your imagination,
calls to you like the wild geese, harsh and exciting - -
over and over announcing you place
in the family of things.

To learn more about Rosie and her courses, go to http://horsesasteachers.co.uk/
To learn more about Epona, go to http://www.taoofequus.com/

To live life backwards

2011-04-26T13:31:00.000-07:00

“When written in Chinese the word ‘crisis’ is composed of two characters – one represents danger and the other represents opportunity.” - John F. Kennedy

It was an ordinary day, apart from the fact that I was in a hurry; I was leaving for a trip the next morning and still had a lot of packing to do. When I arrived at the barn in the late afternoon, I did my usual chores. The horses had been outside all day enjoying the sunshine, but as I was finishing up with the evening feed, they showed up. I looked at my watch; it was only 5 pm. I had done the chores faster than usual. Should I take the horses out for a quick ride or should I go home and pack? I chose to ride.

I tacked up my friends gelding. His owner was gone on a business trip and as usual had asked me to ride. Since I was leaving for a few days myself, this was my last chance of doing this. I slipped a halter on my mare and climbed on the gelding while my mare waited patiently next to him; she knew the drill already.

We crossed the busy road without incident and headed through the field to take our normal “short loop”. When we made it to the other side I hesitated for a moment, but then took a left instead of the usual right. Going to the left meant a longer ride, but less cars, less commotion and a safer ride – or so I thought.

When we entered the forest, I took a sharp right up the hill, planning to cut through the trees to the other side, pass the single farm on the left, descend the hill and return home through the field. Perhaps there would be a chance to get some trot in on the long rise through the forest.

We passed a lonely car parked on the side of the road. I peered into the old Fiat and saw a young man leaned back in his seat resting his bare feet on the dashboard while smoking a cigarette. I’d never seen a car on this particular road and neither had the horses, but they didn’t seem to care.

I directed the gelding onto the soft part of the otherwise paved road and my mare followed in hand. We started trotting up hill. I could smell the pine trees as the sun rays beamed through the branches. Both horses made relaxed snorts and I could feel the geldings relaxed muscles working under the saddle.

I don’t know where the cow came from, but it seemed to materialize from thin air. It stood on top of the hill and looked like it had been waiting for us to come out of the forest. It was white and stood majestically on the side of the road in a solid frame.

The gelding stopped in his tracks. My mare followed suit. Neither horse was in particular afraid of cows as the gelding had lived most of his life on a dairy farm and my mare in the close vicinity of one. But despite this history with the bovine, I could feel the gelding’s heart pounding in his chest and between my legs. I glanced at my mare on my left. She was alert, but not fearful.

Previously, when I had taken the two horses out together, I had encountered much scarier things than this white cow. The gelding was a relatively brave soul, but when in doubt, he froze in place, refusing to move until he felt the coast was clear. I respected his choice and never tried to force him forward as that merely resulted in vigorous resistance.

When the situation calls for it, I always dismount and walk the frightened horse past the scary object. My mare, who is not the bravest soul under saddle, seems to have unquestionable trust in me when I’m on the ground. This, when we are out all together, in turn helps the gelding, who snaps out of his frozen position and follows my mare.

So, short of any other ideas, I dismounted.

The very second my feet touched the ground, something happened. Perhaps the cow moved or made a noise. I don’t know, because I was busy coming off the horse. Whatever it was, it made the gelding do something very unusual to him, but not unusual to horses; he turned around and ran.

He rammed into me, toppling me over. My mare was only a fraction of a second behind his movement. I held on to the reins only long enough to realize that holding on was not going to help. I could only watch, helplessly, as the two horses gained speed on the downhill slope.

What went through my mind? I saw my mare slip and fall; she went almost completely down, skidding across the pavement while she was scrambling back to her feet. How she managed to get up within just fractions of a second I could not fathom. I watched in disbelief as the two horses disappeared around the bend. Instinctively I ran after them, thinking about the busy road between that moment and the barn. I have never felt so powerless, so utterly incapable of controlling the future as I did then.

Next thing, I saw the young man we had passed earlier racing up the hill towards me in his beat up red Fiat. He stopped on my side, his windows rolled down.

“Hey,” he shouted over the noise of the engine, “are you alright? I saw the horses.”

“Yes, I’m fine,” I said quickly. “Can you help me?”

He nodded and pushed the door open. I was barely in the seat when he was already peeling down the road, following the horses.

We all know the brilliant wisdom of hindsight; knowing exactly what we should have done, but didn’t. Should have could have would have. I can’t tell you how many times I have gone through the events of that particular day in my head. Why did I ride the gelding that day? Why did I take my mare with us? Would it have made a difference had I been alone with the gelding? Did I come off because I genuinely thought I could get the two horses past the cow or did I come down because my instinct told me this was the safe thing to do? If I had stayed in the saddle, could I have stopped the panic fed frenzy of this large animal? Or, would I have gotten seriously hurt in the process?

There are so many questions to which I will never know the answers. Oh, how I wish I could turn back time.

But unfortunately time does not work backwards. There are many things you can redo in life; a math test, your kitchen paint job or even the nose you inherited from your father. But, no matter how hard you try, you cannot turn around time. So, when mistakes are made, the only option is to deal with the situation and hopefully later learn from it.

So many things went wrong that day. However, on the same token, so many things went right, as well.

The young man drove to the bottom of the hill where I had entered the forest. There was not a sign of the horses and I prayed they had taken the sharp left towards home instead of going straight where the big road loomed in the distance. I held onto the dashboard as we took the turn in the little car, my heart racing in my chest.

We drove down the road on the side of the field and immediately saw the horses in front of us. They had slowed down to a trot, but were still moving at a brisk pace. How could we stop them before they took the last leg through the field towards home and the big road? I didn’t know.

The man slowed his car down, obviously fearful of further upsetting the horses. I told him to hurry, as I knew what would happen next. And I was right. Suddenly the gelding took a sharp right down a tractor path that led directly to the horse pasture on the other side of the busy road. I looked up and saw cars whizzing by at high speeds. No, I thought. No. Anything but the road where drivers coming around the blind turn would not have time to stop. Horses would get hurt. And not just horses, people, too.

The man looked at me frantically. I watched the horses a good 30 yards away trot towards the traffic with their heads high, their step determined; they wanted to go home. I wanted to scream at them, I wanted to beg them to stop. I also wanted to take back the past hour of my life and start all over again, with the right choices.

Short of better ideas, I did the one thing I could think of; I stuck my head out of the car window and called my horse.

“Little Love!”

Even to my own surprise, my voice didn’t sound desperate, nor did it sound panicky. It sounded just as calm and hopeful as it did when I called her in from the field to eat dinner.

“Little Love!”

And that is when it happened. My black mare, who had been trotting beside the gelding, stopped in her tracks and turned to look at me. The gelding stopped, too. And against all odds, time seemed to stop, too. I hung out of the car window and the horses stood still in the middle of the field. For a very long second the three of us merely stared at each other. Then the horses blew air out of their noses and lowered their heads to eat grass, as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened.

And just like that, the situation was over.

The young man stopped his car on the side of the road and I got out, my whole body shaking from both adrenaline rush and relief. I walked down the field to the horses and both touched me with their noses, visibly relieved to see me.

Neither horse was seriously hurt. Little Love had some scrapes down her side from the fall and the gelding was stiff at the shoulder, but both horses healed miraculously within a week. The traffic on the road went on uninterrupted. The man, who helped me, drove off to continue his day and undoubtedly tell his friends about his adventure catching two runaway horses. And I… I was in one piece, unharmed physically. Yes, my rider’s ego was crushed and the embarrassment I felt over the episode was colossal, but I had also lived to tell the tale.

When I look back at the events of that day, my primary feeling is failure. As someone who has been involved with horses for over 30 years, it is hard to accept that with all the knowledge and experience I possess, I still managed to get myself in a dangerous situation involving two horses. What did I learn? That I was starting to be overconfident in my dealings with horses? Perhaps I needed to be reminded that really, there is no such thing as control, when it comes down to it. Perhaps it was time for me to learn to be humble. And more cautious. Is this how people become afraid of horses? Will I ever be able to relax on a trail ride again?

I have been out since, walking my mare in hand and have to say that the first time we passed a herd of cows I was more on edge than usual. And so was she. But maybe she was nervous only because I was nervous. I can already feel the ramifications of history taking hold of the future. I remind myself that horses live in the here and now; if it is not happening now, it’s not happening. But despite my efforts, my human brain keeps returning to the events of that day. Was the ultimate lesson of all this merely to show me how vulnerable I am in the face of these big animals? Or was the lesson something even more profound; that no matter what happens, I must learn to trust, over and over again?

Perhaps with time thinking back can help me see what really is important; the relationship I have with this particular horse, with Little Love. Sometimes bad things happen and illusions of perfect harmony are broken. But, in the meanwhile, if we can see the good from the bad, hope is also restored.

I have a feeling that years and years from now, I will still recall how it felt to watch the two horses canter away at full speed. But, I know for sure that I will never forget the moment when I called the name of my beautiful black mare and - after all that had happened - she stopped in her tracks to look at me.

Gratefully,

K

“Nobody gets to live life backward. Look ahead, that is where your future lies.” - Ann Landers

“Having harvested all the knowledge and wisdom we can from our mistakes and failures, we should put them behind us and go ahead.” - Edith Johnson

Never forget me

2011-03-27T13:58:00.000-07:00

Promise me you'll never forget me because if I thought you would I'd never leave. ~A.A. Milne

Last year, when my horse Little Love was not yet mine and she was still living at a large commercial stable, something interesting happened. At the end of the summer the owners of the barn bought a new horse for their teenage daughter. The big, brown gelding arrived from Germany and was immediately put into the routines of the barn.

After the gelding had been at the barn for about three days, I noticed a difference in Little Love’s behavior. The first time it happened it was morning, when all the horses went outside in their separate runs. I was walking her up to her allotted pasture strip when she called out in a clear and high pitch whinny. I hadn’t heard her say a peep for months and her loud voice caught me by surprise. Her head was up high and she took a few trot steps, peering to her right at the pastures reserved for the barn owner’s four horses.

I heard a whinny coming from the first pasture and saw the new gelding trot to the fence, his eyes fixed on Little Love. She stopped in her tracks and spun around, staring at the gelding. A soft nicker erupted from her throat; low and melodious it sounded as if she was singing. I had never heard her talk like that and when the gelding answered in an equally beautiful tone, low and bubbly, as if he was laughing, I could only smile in wonder.

I didn’t think much of the incident, until the next day when I drove to the barn and saw the gelding standing in his pasture at the fence and staring keenly at the barn. When I passed in my car, saw Little Love’s head poked out her stall window. Ears up and nose forward, she was looking at the gelding. What was going on?

At first I thought perhaps it was the novelty of a new male horse entering the barn, but as soon as the thought crossed my mind, I dismissed it. It was not unusual for horses to come and go at this facility, as it had over 35 stalls with privately owned horses. And why would Little Love feel drawn to this particular gelding when there were four stallions living in the barn? And even when she did express interest towards the stallion, it was never anything like this. There was something special about this gelding.

I asked the owners where he had come from, but it didn’t tell me much as I also was not completely familiar with Little Love’s past. But I did know that she had originated from Germany, just like this gelding. As the weeks turned into months, I watched as the gelding stood vigil in front of Little Love’s window until it was closed for the winter. Once, when the new barn worker messed up the turn out schedule, Little Love ended up in someone else’s run, next to the gelding. Oh the joy of the reunion! There was no amount of electricity that could keep the two from touching each other. They sniffed over the fence and when Little Love peed it sent the gelding into a wild gallop up and down the fence. Unfortunately this behavior was frowned upon and the turn out schedule was resumed in the correct fashion.

It was obvious that the two horses had a connection. And not just any connection; I was convinced they had known each other before. But it had been 9 years since Little Love had left Germany where the gelding had been bought from. Could it be possible that the two had met in their youth and remembered each other after so many years? Who was he and what had he meant to her then? Had they shared an experience? I was fascinated.

How good is the memory of a horse? In a study led by Evelyn Hanggi, MS, PhD, co-director at the Equine Research Foundation (ERF) in Aptos, Calif., horses that had been tested on recognition and advanced learning abilities as many as 10 years earlier were able to repeat the same tasks with a nearly perfect level of accuracy without having to learn the skills again. Not only were the horses able to remember the specific objects learned years ago, they were able to apply those previously learned rules and concepts to never-before-seen objects years later.

Just recently ethologist Carol Sankey of the University of Rennes and her colleagues tested how well 23 horses remembered a female trainer and her instructions after she and the horses had been separated up to eight months. Although the time lapsed in this study was significantly shorter than the one done by Hanggi, and results were similar – horses have good memories. The added twist to this research was the fact that some of the subject horses were trained using positive reinforcement and others using none. The researchers concluded that the “horses trained without reinforcement expressed four to six times more 'negative' behaviors, such as biting, kicking and 'falling down' on the experimenter." Also, after the 8 months of separation, the horses trained with positive reinforcement gravitated towards their old trainer, rather than other people. They also seemed to accept other humans more willingly than the other subject horses that had not received positive reinforcement during training.

Studies such as the ones mentioned above, often focus on learning and the animal’s ability to remember what it has learned. But what about horse- horse relationships? Will a foal remember its mother for as long as it lives? Do buddies stabled together recognize each other after years of separation? You only have to do a search on the subject on the internet to believe that they do, as it seems like almost everyone has a story to share about happy horse reunions. And not just horse reunions, but horse – human reunions as well.

Little Love is now my horse and she lives at a very small barn in the country side. It is the first time in ten years that she has the opportunity to have a social life with another horse. Her friend Col is a Danish warmblood gelding who loves Little Love at least as much as she loves him. Watching the two horses spend time together is my favorite past time, as you can visibly see the friendship and the caring emanating from the two.

But, as much as I enjoy the relationship between the two horses, it also makes my heart heavy. In a few months my family will be moving to another country and naturally I will be taking my beautiful Little Love with me. How will the two horses cope with the separation, a separation that will most likely last a lifetime? What right do I have to even think of separating them?

Horses form life lasting relationships, but only if we allow them to do so. My thoughts are with all the hundreds of thousands of horses that are sold yearly all around the world. Some have been with their peers for years and get uprooted in a moment’s notice; some travel around the world and never have a moment to form a lasting bond with a horse or human before they are sent off to the next barn. And then there are those that live in such pain and suffering and stress that they don’t even have the emotional capacity to connect with another living being. Just the thought of that makes me want sit down and spend a moment remembering all the hundreds of horses that have passed through my life, many of them which gave me many valuable experiences. Was I, too, someone who gave them a good moment in time, a positive memory? If we met again, would they remember? Would they even want to remember?

I have two dogs and I would never dream of selling them to a soul. Nor would I dream of separating them for any reason. Most dog owners would think you crazy, if you asked them to sell you their dog. Dogs are family members. Why do we treat horses so differently? Is it because they don’t live with us, sleep in the same house with us, follow us around, that we consider them more distant, not worthy of the same level of bonding, of love? And how much does monetary value play a part in our feelings or the lack thereof?

I once knew someone who sold her horse to another continent after owning it for over a decade. It was a phenomenal horse and helped his owner become a respected competitor and trainer. She had acquired the horse as a foal and trained it single handedly up the dressage levels. When I heard she had done the unthinkable, I at first could not believe it; what had possessed her to sell her dressage partner? I’m not sure the owner could even believe it herself when she watched her long time friend load on a truck and leave.

The horse flew across the ocean to his new home, but already during the long trip, he fell horribly ill. The vets worked as hard as they could, but the gelding would not get better. Finally, as a last resort his old owner flew to see him, to help heal the gelding’s high fever and lost appetite. She stayed with him for a week and he recovered from his physical symptoms, but the underlying broken heart was probably never cured on neither person nor horse.

I, too, once sold my horse, the only one I ever owned before Little Love. I can’t say I sold him without a second thought, because it did affect me, and still does even if I owned him for only a short while. At that time, it seemed like the logical thing to do, given that I was moving overseas. I soothed my guilty conscious by telling myself he went to a good home, which he did. I have seen him since and each time we meet I can’t help but wonder why I didn’t try harder to keep him with me. But even when I wonder, I know. It was more convenient to exchange him for well-needed cash. Ironically, most of the money I received for his sale was still sitting in my bank account until a few months ago. It was as if I was waiting for something important enough, worthy enough, to come along before my conscious allowed me to touch the money. Or perhaps I knew in my heart that someday, six years later, I would need it to buy another horse, a horse that I did not want to leave behind.

How much do we really know about the emotional lives of horses? Not much. But we know they are sentient being with vast emotional landscape, perhaps even more complex, but certainly different, than ours. I may never find out how Little Love knew the big, brown gelding at her old barn, but does it matter? They know who they are and where they met and I am sure they rejoiced in the fact that they were lucky enough to meet again. I hope that in the years to come I can introduce Little Love to many more horses, horses that will stay in her life for years to come, some perhaps for the rest of her life. Like me.

As what comes to Little Love and her current friend Col, only time will tell. I am selfishly going to take my mare with me to our new home, because this time I am not ready to sell my horse. In fact, that is no longer an option and never will be, because truth told, she is not really mine, but rather I am hers.

~K

Some interesting links:

www.equineresearch.org - more on equine research

http://horsehints.org/StudyMemoryDiscovery.htm - an interesting article about horse’s memory

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mOgtI23xqXE - a heartwarming video of a woman and a horse who meet for clicker training after 7 years of separation

Naked Flesh of Feeling

2011-03-11T12:45:00.000-08:00

How much has to be explored and discarded before reaching the naked flesh of feeling. ~Claude Debussy

Do animals have emotions?

Having been involved with animals all my life, I have no doubt in my mind that they do. If you own a dog, cat, horse or any other animal, you know what I’m talking about. Animals are intelligent and feeling individuals; they know things that are not visible to the naked eye, often more accurately than us humans. But it wasn’t so long ago that the majority of people denied the existence of animal emotions. In fact, skeptics remain, many whom draw their conclusions from the lack of scientific proof; consequently the emotional lives of animals has not been researched much in the past mainly because researchers thought there wasn’t anything to study in the first place. Luckily research has evolved and proof is emerging from the woodworks of the scientific world. I guess at this point the question is not if animals have emotions, but rather what kind of emotions do they have.

Author and ethologist Marc Bekoff provides evidence of animals having emotions in his book, The Emotional Lives of Animals. The following story is an excerpt from his book:

“A few years ago my friend Rod and I were riding our bicycles around Boulder, Colorado, when we witnessed a very interesting encounter among five magpies. Magpies are corvids, a very intelligent family of birds. One magpie had obviously been hit by a car and was laying dead on the side of the road. The four other magpies were standing around him. One approached the corpse, gently pecked at it-just as an elephant noses the carcass of another elephant- and stepped back. Another magpie did the same thing. Next, one of the magpies flew off, brought back some grass, and laid it by the corpse. Another magpie did the same. Then, all four magpies stood vigil for a few seconds and one by one flew off.”

Often pet owners who say their pet is happy or sad or mischievous or sorry are accused of giving animals “human” emotions. This practice, also known as anthropomorphism, is widely criticized, and for a reason. as often it is connected to disturbing behavior such as dressing your dog up in human clothes or punishing your horse for something that happened long time ago because “he knew what he was doing.” But when it comes to feelings, why should humans have the monopoly on emotions? Look at the story of the magpies; how can you possibly interpret the behavior of the four magpies in any other way than through emotional vocabulary? The birds were obviously mourning the loss of their conspecific; they were sad.

Recently, I read the book Second Nature by animal behaviorist Jonathan Balcombe and Wild Justice by Mark Bekoff in which they explore the emotional and intellectual lives of animals. Even though I have been a big believer in animal emotions for quite a while, I don’t think I had quite understood the depth of the subject. It was fascinating to read scientific proof of emotions in creatures big and small. We often think that for example animals such as fish or rodents don’t have much going on in terms of intelligence or feelings, but turns out they can have feelings like empathy for each other. Mark Bekoff recounts a study made with rats, where caged rats were taught to press a level for food. Once this behavior was set in, however, the scientists added a twist; when the rat pushed the lever to get the food, another rat in the cage next door received an electric shock via the metal floor. What did the rats do? They stopped eating. Some individuals were known to starve themselves for as long as 14 days. I wonder how humans would “excel”to starve themselves in this sort of an experiment… (I also find it sickening that this was a study on rat empathy, but the empathy of the human researchers seemed to fail as they subjected other living beings to such cruel experiments…)

Jonathan Balcombe in particular writes eloquently about animal empathy, an emotion non-animal people often dismiss as solely a human emotion. But anyone who has ever been close to a horse when they have needed a friend, might know the capacity they have for empathy. And not just empathy, but unconditional support.

Two years ago I participated in an introductory workshop of the Epona method (check out my blog from June 16,2009 Lessons from a Horse’s Heart). At the end of the three day course, I felt like I was at the core of my true self, all my emotions were raw and real. Our very last exercise was an individual session with a horse that was assigned to us by the psychologist. My horse was Geo, a young paint gelding with whom I had worked with before, but had failed to find a deep connection. I was last to go and when it came my time to step up to have a private talk with Kathleen Barry Ingram, the facilitator, I was shaking with so many feelings I didn’t even know where to start unwinding them. It had been a long weekend observing others fall apart and collect the pieces as they made an attempt to re-establish themselves and I felt like an outsider in many respects. There were so many other people at the course who had real problems, people who deserved and needed the help of the horses and humans there. I, on the other hand, felt like I often feel; that I was there to support others instead of to receive support.

I approached the round pen where Geo was grazing at the other end completely disinterested in me. Kathleen pulled me aside and asked how I was feeling. I shrugged.

“I really feel like I don’t belong here,” I said. “All these other people are battling such major emotional issues and traumatic pasts. I don’t have that. They need this, they need the support.”

“So you feel like you don’t deserve to have that?”

“Yeah, I guess so. It’s always like this, you know, I hold up everyone else, but it’s only because I don’t need holding up. Kind of like there is a big pie and everyone else gets a big slice. In the end there isn’t much left for me. But that’s okay, because I don’t really need the pie.” I looked at Kathleen. “Do you know what I mean?”

Kathleen nodded. “But you know what? You deserve your own piece. You deserve this time, this sacred space of possibility. You deserve support, too. Look at all those people.” She motioned towards the 20 odd students sitting in their chairs, ready to observe my interaction with Geo. “They are here for you. Maybe you don’t feel deserving of their time, but they are here, nevertheless.” She motioned at Geo. “And look at that horse.” I looked at the horse, he couldn’t have looked less interested in Kathleen and me. “He is here for you.” She pushed on my back gently. “Now go and see what he has to bring to the table.”

I opened the gate to the round pen and walked in. Suddenly my hands were shaking. And not just my hands, but my whole body was quivering, as if it was a little blade of grass in a storm. Geo didn’t move, he didn’t as much as look at me. I started crying. I don’t know why I was crying, but there was an unstoppable wave of sorrow and sadness inside me that erupted to the surface so suddenly that I couldn’t stop it. I started sobbing, something completely uncharacteristic to me.

Overwhelmed by my emotions, I stopped about ten feet away from the grazing Geo. The last thing I wanted to do was force my emotions on him. Tears were flowing down my face, I don’t think I have cried like that since childhood. I looked at Geo and wanted to leave, to just run out of there and hide somewhere. But just then he lifted his head and looked back at me. Then he turned and walked over. He stopped in front of me. I was still sobbing and it felt like the top of my head was going to explode, the pounding was so strong, so blinding that I closed my eyes. An ache grew in my chest and even though I wanted to clutch my hands to it, I let my arms hang at my sides, exposing myself completely in front of this horse.

Geo lifted his nose and pressed it to my chest. I could feel him breathing into me. I could also feel something else, a strange sensation of lightness, as if this horse I barely knew was sucking the irrational sadness out of me like an enormous vacuum. I opened my eyes and Geo moved his nose to my forehead and performed the same exercise there, sucking away my pain, pulling it out of me and sending it off into the universe.

I stopped crying. Geo took his nose off my forehead. I swear the look on his face was playful. He grabbed the cloth of my sleeve between his lips and pulled on it. Come now, he seemed to say, let’s be done feeling sad.

Without thinking I turned and started running down the round pen. Geo squealed and took off at a canter, bucking and romping around like the teenager he was. I laughed out loud. I don’t think I have ever felt so alive and so light, like I could have perhaps taken off in flight. We ran another round and then Geo stopped to graze and I walked to the gate. The whole interaction had taken perhaps four minutes, but it had been an intense four; he had given me exactly what I needed, his time and his support – his empathy. I came through that gate with a new respect for horses as sentient beings.

Exploring animal emotions brings us face to face with many ethical questions; perhaps the real reason humans have so reluctantly studied this subject. What you don’t know can’t hurt you, right? If we admit to animals being sentient beings with rich emotional lives, how do we possibly justify the way we treat them? What does the current treatment of animals tell us about ourselves? I for certain think about this question on a daily basis. Do we have the right to use horses for our own pleasure? And how do they feel when we do? For thousands of years we have assumed an inferior role over nature and other animals. Perhaps it is time for us to notice and acknowledge animals as who they really are; subjects of their own lives, living and feeling beings

Geo and the other horses at the Epona workshop exposed the very essence of horses. Ever since I had this experience, I have not been able to stop seeing the hidden meaning behind each horse-human relationship I encounter. When we are initially drawn to horses, perhaps it is not the action of riding or training or driving or grooming that touches us so deeply, but rather the soul of the animal we are connecting with, or rather, who is connecting with us. Horses, even the ones that live under stressful conditions, have the capacity to emotionally heel humans. Often we don’t know this when we meet them, but the potential is always there. Horses are altruistic; they give selflessly, even when the human is not paying attention.

In his book Second Nature Jonathan Balcombe tells so many touching stories of animals caring for each other, working together, striving to understand each other, seeking comfort from each other – even in the most surprising situations. I want to share one particular story with you, because it perhaps demonstrates the capacity that animals can have for empathy, even across species. This is a story about Washoe, a chimpanzee.

Balcombe writes: “… Beatrice and Allen Gardner of the University of Oklahoma taught American Sign Language to Washoe. When Beatrice became pregnant, Washoe became more attentive than usual and regularly asked questions (using sign language) about the baby. Washoe had had two pregnancies of her own, both of which had resulted in the infants’ deaths. When Beatrice returned after an extended absence, Washoe acknowledged her return but was aloof. The teacher explained that she had had a miscarriage and signed to Washoe: “My baby died.” Washoe looked at Beatrice and signed “Cry”, then signed “Please person hug” as Beatrice was leaving.”

Sometimes there are no words for what we feel when we are with our animals and it is because emotions are beyond words. In fact, spoken language can even block being able to feel and read the emotions of others. Perhaps that is why animals are better at it than us humans are, they are used to communicating nonverbally. My written account of the moment with Geo doesn’t do justice to what really happened, because there are no words to truly describe the matters of the heart. All I can say is that I wish to connect again and again to that sacred place he opened up in me.

~K

“It is of interest to note that while some dolphins are reported to have learned English – up to fifty words used in correct context – no human being has been reported to have learned dolphinese.”
- Carl Sagan

Unmapped Country

2011-02-18T13:38:00.000-08:00

There’s a period of life when we swallow a knowledge of ourselves and it becomes either good or sour inside. - Pearl Bailey

I used to give lessons to a student I’ll call Sarah. I taught Sarah regularly for a year on a once a month basis. She was a petite woman, and a very tense and serious rider. Sarah owned a horse called Daniel, a beautiful chestnut warmblood with a playful twinkle in his eye. Daniel was not an easy mount by any standard; not only did he have physical issues, but he was also very sensitive with a low threshold for outside stimulus. In other words, he was a horse with what people call a spooky nature.

The importance of building a relationship with the horse on the ground before riding is crucial and I had tried to encourage this sort of activity in Sarah’s case as well. Sarah, like so many other riders, however, was relatively set on just riding Daniel, because “why have a horse if you can’t ride it?”

Why indeed? I could have given her at least ten reasons, but unfortunately just telling a person about the complexities that lie in a horse-human relationship will not make them a believer; they must find that path for themselves.

In the beginning of one of our last lessons together Sarah walked over to me with her horse and said: “He’s acting crazy and has been for the past few days. I’m really freaking out. I think it’s just a game. I know he’s really not afraid, he’s just playing with me.”

I looked at Daniel, who was fidgeting on the other end of the reins, constantly looking around. I could see there was so much more to the situation that initially met the eye. Sarah looked at me in desperation.

“I’m so angry at him, I just want him to stop messing with me like this.”

Daniel startled at a noise he heard outside the arena and Sarah jerked on the reins, making the bit clunk against her horse’s teeth. Daniel’s eyes rolled around in his head and I could see the whites flashing like warning lights. Every muscle fiber in his back was tense.

“Yesterday I rode him on the trails and I got so scared I had to come off his back. He was still crazy. It took all the strength I had not to start hitting him with the whip. I wanted to kill him.” Sarah yanked at the reins again and slapped Daniel on the chest with the end of her whip as if to make her point clear. I could see she was at the end of her rope. I suggested we talk about all the emotions that she was experiencing, especially the anger that seemed to dominate her actions. After a long talk, Sarah was ready to admit that she was actually very insecure and afraid, but these feelings would manifest themselves as anger.

“Do you think it’s fair to Daniel to ride him when you are going through all these feelings?” I asked.

Sarah looked at me quizzically. “Probably not,” she said and smiled sheepishly.

We talked for a little longer and the more Sarah revealed her true feelings, the more relaxed her horse became. I pointed this out, gently suggesting that perhaps the emotions running high in Sarah were partly responsible for Daniel’s state of mind. I also suggested we forget the riding and work on dealing with the emotions on the ground, but Sarah wouldn’t hear of it. Instead she said: “Can you ride him for a while?”

I had ridden Daniel before, but only in the bitless bridle, which was what Sarah usually used. She told me she had put the bit in Daniel’s mouth again because she was convinced she would have more control with the bit. I shortly explained that the bit would just add to Daniel’s panic and asked her to get the bitless. Sarah ran to get the bridle, while I talked with Daniel. The gelding looked at me with wise eyes. I knew he had a lesson to teach his owner, if she would just stop and listen.

Once I was sitting on Daniel, I walked around for five minutes simply breathing and relaxing, and soon Daniel followed suit. In the very beginning he spooked twice, but I left him alone, rather giving him reins when he was afraid, instead of trying to hold him, which I knew would make him panic more. As I rode around, Sarah watched me ride from the middle of the arena.

After a while I stopped and approached her. She looked at me in bewilderment.

“You know what? It’s not a game. He was really afraid in the beginning.”

“You’re right,” I said. I was happy she had made that observation on her own. Daniel blew air out of his nostrils and chewed. I could nearly hear him saying the words “Thank you.”

“I saw that when he was afraid, you gave him rein, instead of trying to stop him or control him. It’s almost like you allowed him to have his fear and then he wasn’t so afraid anymore.” Sarah shook her head. “It’s the exact opposite of what I always do.”

I nodded. “Your reaction is normal. We want to be in control, but by trying to hold a frightened horse, you will just make him freak out more.” I looked at Sarah. “I like how you said I allowed him the fear. Could you allow yourself the same thing?”

Sarah hesitated, but then nodded. She looked up at me. “Maybe I should ride now, I feel better about it after seeing you ride.”

I nodded, even though I would have liked to talk more with Sarah about her fears. But sometimes it’s best to wait, especially when people are still just discovering their emotions.

“Let me get my helmet,” Sarah said and started to walk toward the benches at the door. Daniel followed her spontaneously and although I was still sitting on his back, I let him.

“Look at him,” I said. Sarah turned.

“I know,” she said. “He always follows me around. He really trusts me on the ground.”

“Perhaps that is something to think about, Sarah,” I said. She nodded, but didn’t look at me.

She got on and gathered the reins, but before she walked off with Daniel, I touched her thigh.

“You know how you said Daniel trusts you? This horse believes in you. Perhaps you need to believe in yourself as well. “Our eyes locked. “And in him.”

Sarah didn’t say anything. She asked Daniel forward and I talked to her about breathing and trying to really feel Daniel underneath her. Suddenly I saw tears streaming down Sarah’s face.

“Are you okay?” I asked.

She nodded, unable to speak.

She picked up a trot and Daniel responded beautifully, his head lowered and his back up. And so Sarah rode around and around for ten minutes, tears streaming down her cheeks, but with a smile on her face. Daniel got scared a few times from the noises outside the arena, but Sarah was able to loosen her grip on the rein, take a deep breath and settle him back down. I watched him moving around, carrying Sarah on his back and I thought: “Who am I kidding? I’m not the teacher here, I’m merely the guide who leads people to see the real teachers – the horses.” This horse, bless his heart, was slowly guiding his owner down a certain path whether Sarah liked it or not. Some day she would hopefully analyze her own fears and how her horse was reacting to them, but at the moment Daniel had given her something valuable by letting her have that moment on his back.

I’ve always wondered about people who are afraid of their horses. If you were afraid of dogs, would you want a dog? Probably not. If you were afraid of snakes, would you get a snake? Definitely not. But horses are a different story. I can honestly say that the majority of the people I have taught riding to in the past ten years were on some level afraid of their horses. Some were even brave enough to admit this fact, often crumbling in the middle of a lesson into a heap of uncontrollable sobs, but most fought it tooth and nail, transforming fear into anger and relentless determination. Knowing and seeing this with my own eyes, it amazed me that these people kept riding. Why are people willing to go through years of fear, pain, and insecurity just to sit on a horse? Why not take up something less emotionally challenging like guitar playing, jogging or cooking?

Why? Because they can’t. Because of the magnetic pull of horses overrides even the strongest fear.

I believe that people who are drawn to horses subconsciously recognize these animals have something to teach them. We may have no idea how aware horses are of our lives, our deepest fears, our hidden secrets, but somehow we feel an urgent need to be close to these animals. So, we start riding. Not necessarily because we want to ride, but because that is what the world offers in terms of being with horses. Perhaps we are afraid, perhaps we feel like we are in the wrong place on top of the large animal, but if that means we can be close to them, we accept this as part of the bargain. And thus the fearful rider is born.

After my lesson, I talked to Sarah again, asking her how she felt.

“I feel great, I’m so happy I was able to ride Daniel this time without getting afraid or angry.”

“But you do know that you don’t have to ride him,” I said. “If you are afraid, why ride?”

Sarah looked at me, I could see she was holding back tears.

“No, I have to ride,” she said quietly, before walking away with Daniel. I watched her go, puzzled by this persistence to mount her horse despite her own emotional problems and the obvious signs her horse was giving her. It reminded me of another student I had a while back, who had purchased an old dressage horse so she could learn how to ride correctly, only to discover that the only way to get her horse to move forward was to beat it with a long dressage whip, sit through a number of bucks and pray he would start moving forward. When I arrived at her barn for the first lesson, she was standing nervously in the middle of the arena, holding onto her horse that stood stock still. When I asked her about the horse and heard his tragic story of years of forcing and punishment, I was horrified. The student asked me to ride, but as soon as I was in the saddle, I could feel what she meant; he didn’t want to move another inch with a rider on top of him.

After a lengthy talk with the owner, where I told her about just spending time with her horse, perhaps easing into working at liberty and taking long walks by foot in the forest, she broke down and started crying.

“You really think I shouldn’t try to ride him?” She said between the sobs. I nodded, feeling sorry for the girl who had just bought herself a horse to ride and now I had told her she should forget about it, at least for the time being. The young girl wiped the tears streaking down her face and said, to my surprise:

“Thank you for giving me permission not to ride.”

The horse’s role in our society is primarily as a mount. Ask any three year old child what we do with horses and she or he will answer: “We ride them.” When something is this ingrained into our consciousness that even small children are aware of it, it is hardly surprising that adult horse owners believe they have to ride their horses “no matter what.”

Interestingly enough, I heard from Sarah the other day. Turns out Daniel’s joints finally gave in, and Sarah is now officially unable to ride him because of his condition. So many people in this situation would have disposed of the horse and bought a new, “better” one, but Sarah doesn’t want another horse. She continues to spend time with Daniel without riding, something I am convinced Daniel was trying to tell her to do from the very beginning. Sarah reported that her fears have not subsided, but rather have evolved and she has realized they have a much larger hold on her life, a hold beyond the barn environment.

“Now I can see that I’m afraid of a lot of things and I need to learn to let go of that fear because it holds me back in life. But Daniel is teaching me how to deal with it. And that’s helping me live more the way I want to live.”

Horses don’t come into our lives accidentally, but with a purpose. Sometimes their intention is obvious and sometimes it is so subtle that it takes us decades to unravel the meaning. Horses are so deeply connected to the inside of humans that they can and will unearth emotions we desperately try to hide from.

Fear is a powerful and uncomfortable sensation that grips each and every one of us at least a few times during our lives. But there are those of us who live with fear more than others; be it fear of failure, fear of taking control of our lives, fear of being who we truly are – you name it. Horses seem to navigate towards these people only to bring them over and over again to the place they are trying to avoid the most. I have witnessed this insightful dance, this untangling of painful emotions, again and again, and each time it leaves me captivated by the emotional intelligence of these animals we call horses.

~K

There is a great deal of unmapped country within us which would have to be taken into account in an explanation of our gusts and storms. ~George Eliot

Adjusting the Scales

2011-02-08T12:12:00.000-08:00

You live with your thoughts – so be careful what they are. – Eva Arrington

In hatred as in love, we grow like the thing we brood upon. What we loathe, we graft into our very soul. – Mary Renault

A few weeks ago I met a woman who is a professional western trainer and a big believer in certain natural horsemanship methods. When she realized I was into horses, she immediately wanted to know my approach to riding and horses in general. I chose my words carefully, as it is sometimes hard to explain what I “do” with my horse in comparison to what others do.

After listening to my account, she said: “Ah, that’s good, at least you are not one of those crazy people who push their horse beyond its limits. I’m into the John Lyons method, he’s amazing. So kind to horses and never uses too much pressure; never demands too much.”

I nodded. I’m not that familiar with John Lyons, apart from knowing that he is a natural horsemanship trainer and applies similar methods than other such trainers; training a horse using operant conditioning through pressure and release i.e. negative reinforcement. I used to pursue these methods myself, but have since started exploring something I would describe as conscious horse – human interaction. However, I acknowledge the value any method that aims to be kind can have in encouraging people to think about animal welfare. In any case, I have decided to keep an open mind to what people have to say about their way of doing things – whatever that is.

The woman talked highly about the gentle ways of this method and the patience it required. I liked the words the woman was using: kind, gentle, patient so I asked her questions, to find out exactly what she was all about. When she realized I was interested, she plunged deeper into her analysis of horsemanship in general. She was obviously looking for validation for her way of being with horses. It didn’t take too long for her to start talking about what other people did.

“Oh, there is this woman at our barn, she is so stupid. The things she does to her horse in the name of training. I hate her.”

I hate her. I cringed at the strong statement. Hate is a powerful emotion. The more I listened to the woman, the more anger poured over me, but it wasn’t mine, it was hers. She couldn’t stand this or that person; she hated this trainer or that trainer. So and so was abusive and therefore stupid. What happened to kind, gentle and patient? I have witnesses a lot of abuse towards horses in the past six years I have lived in Switzerland, but I can’t say I have ever hated anyone for it. After about 40 minutes of talking to the woman, I simply had to get away. I felt drained, tired. Was this what horses felt around her, too? The amount of negative energy this woman projected on me, was wearing me down.

I thought about my New Year’s Resolution: to try to observe, rather than evaluate. This woman was definitely making evaluations rather than observations, but I can’t say I was doing any better. What had started as an attempt to learn more about the woman’s beliefs, ended up in me judging her judging others.

What is it with negative energy? I don’t know if you have noticed, but it is everywhere, circulating our planet faster than any known weather pattern, pushing itself into every nook and cranny it possibly can. And I’m not just talking about the horse world, but the world in general.

Humans are negative by nature. We seem to produce negative energy like it is a life source. We take pleasure in wallowing in misery, ours or other peoples. We make it our business to judge others for what they do, without really knowing why they do it. It is so easy to look at others and ridicule them, bad mouth them. It makes us feel better, more worthy. Because isn’t that was this is all about: feeling worthy, feeling superior?

And what are the direct and indirect effects of this negativity we seem to spread around without a second thought? - Massive.

Exactly a year ago in January my small Jack Russell was attacked by a runaway dog much larger than herself. She was nearly killed, ripped to pieces by this male dog which had absolutely no reason to attack my tiny female dog with such ferociousness. And yet it did. Two hours prior this attack, the dog and his female companion had run away from their owner and had since roamed the woods, moving further and further away from home. When my dog and I had the unfortunate luck to run across the pair, they were both acting strangely hostile.

Later, while my vet was patching up my dog, we discussed the incident. He was appalled. Just the day before he had witnessed another small dog die from injuries sustained in a similar situation. The man was very sad to tell me that this was his daily bread, patching up dogs injured in senseless fights. He had been a vet for almost twenty years, and he said that the situation was getting worse; more and more dogs out of control, more and more aggressiveness and hostility in animals formerly known as man’s best friend.

I went home stunned. What was going on? Something the vet had said rung in my ears as I nursed my dog back to life: “Unhappy humans create unhappy animals.”

I knew this was true, hadn’t I see the same equation over and over again in the horse world, wasn’t that once part of my daily bread, patching up the relationships gone bad between horse and human? “Show me your horse and I’ll tell you who you are” is something I like to say to people when explaining the way animals reflect not only our behavior, but our most inner being. Horses show us who we are. But if horses (and other domestic animals) are direct reflections of who we are, what does the current emotional and psychological state of animals around us tell us about our society as a whole?

As I made an attempt to escape the woman who was infatuated with John Lyons and who seemed to hate pretty much everyone who had anything to do with horses and didn’t do it her way, I stopped myself. Who was I kidding? Running away from her negative energy was no solution. In fact, I would probably drag part of it with me and project it onto some other unsuspecting bystander like myself as soon as I was out of the woman’s sight. Instead, I should do what horses do; project it back in a clear way, to demonstrate that this was not alright. Maybe something positive could come out of all this negative?

The world may be filled with negative energy, but on the same token, there is a growing movement for all things positive. It may have started as a new age idea, but soon, to balance out the chemistry of the universe, it took on a life of its own. This is why for example Eckhart Tolle has sold millions of copies of his books. There is a collective initiative for change, hence the reason I write this blog, for starters!

Eckhart Tolle’s message is simple; to transcend our ego-based state of consciousness. Sounds great, but in real life is everything but easy. Our ego is quite strong and it can have a death grip on our psyche. It takes a lot to change who you are and become the person you want to be. Especially when it means letting go of the competitive and critical being we have become.

I know, I’m starting to sound like a psychologist, to say the least. But as I am trying to understand my own tendencies to judge and criticize, I am discovering the source of the negative energy within. It truly lies in the heart of feeling unworthy; it is being bred in a place where I am certain I am not enough, yet I know better. This dichotomy boggles the mind. We think we know it all (compared to others, who are not as enlightened as we are), but at the same time we are insecure about what we know and do.

Again, I look to horses for the answers. My horse, Little Love, is by no stretch of imagination a sociable horse when it comes to people, after all, her experiences of people have not always been very pleasant. She doesn’t, however, hold this against anyone. When she meets a new person, she quietly and politely observes the human. Her demeanor is neutral; until the person proves his intentions. And even when there is negative energy projected on her, she holds her stoic neutrality, unless her personal space is grossly evaded. In that case, she demonstrates her opinion clearly, only to return to the neutral equilibrium. I believe she can do this, because her life is centered the right way, she knows what is important (which would be this very moment) and not many things can rock that balance.

Perhaps that is what it is about; balance. Maybe we all need to adjust the scales in our lives or discover the real center; maybe we have just focused too much on the things that are not so important and wasted energy on things that belong on the fringes, like worrying too much about being perfect or about what others do and say. We like to scrutinize everything under a microscope instead of looking out into the horizon with soft eyes, taking in the big picture, seeing not only the what is going wrong, but all the things that are going right at the same time.

Why not let go of trying to be perfect, even if just for a second? Why not stop the inner critic before he talks? Why not travel in the dark for a while and feel your way around, instead of always having to know where you are going (and where others should be going)?

What is the worst thing that could happen?

~K

No pessimist ever discovered the secret of the stars, or sailed to an uncharted land, or opened a new doorway for the human spirit. - Helen Keller

The Gift

2011-01-31T12:03:00.000-08:00

Pleasure is spread through the earth
In stray gifts to be claimed by whoever shall find.
~William Wordsworth, 1806

Look at the picture above. What do you see?

What you are looking at is a picture of a poster that is for sale for approximately 20 dollars in an American horse catalogue. The text beside the poster says: “The image of an inquisitive muzzle nuzzling a timid, but determined little hand evokes memories of an experience all horse lovers hold in common.”

The name of the poster is “The Gift”, but I am left unsure as to what gift this is referring to; the imprisoned horse giving the girl the gift of the nuzzle or the girl giving the imprisoned horse the gift of touch.

When I was a child, all the horse posters on my walls (and I assure you, there were MANY), illustrated various horses in freedom. I can’t remember one single one with a tacked up horse, let alone a ridden one or one stuck behind bars. Is this what the equestrian world has come to? Is taking the freedom of another living being so “normal” that it is now even depicted in posters for children? The above picture is supposed to evoke “memories of an experience we all hold in common”. I can tell you it definitely evokes my memories. In fact, some of those memories are of experiences from the not so distant past. I remember writing about one of those experiences in my blog (Levels of Imprisonment, August 29, 2010). I wrote: “But if there is a will, there is a way. The only opening to this horse’s box stall is a small gap above his feeder through which the barn worker delivers the daily grain portions. It is just big enough to fit a human hand and a scoop. And a horse’s muzzle. “

I was writing about a gelding who would twist his neck to an unconceivable angle just to get his nose pushed through the feeder hole. And why? To touch another horse.

Here is a picture I took much later of that very same horse. Unfortunately, this time his neighbor's window was closed and the two horses could not touch. What you see is him reaching out to me.

The similarities to the poster are obvious, but the context completely different. Perhaps my memories are not the memories the catalogue was talking about…

Little Love and I have been gone from her old barn for a mere three weeks, but somehow that short time already feels like a lifetime. At her old barn horses lived in stalls exactly like the one in the poster picture. They rarely were able to touch each other. If it happened, it was an accident or the product of horse ingenuity. Perhaps the top electric wire broke between two pastures or the electricity was left off for a brief moment or a horse managed to get loose from his owner and ran to another horse. Or a horse stuck his nose through his feeder hole. But these were exceptions to the rule. And the rule was no touching.

When we were still there, I did my best to produce the horse to horse touch for Little Love. I know she would have preferred another horse to me as I am a sad replacement, but she took what she could get.

One day not so long ago I was scratching her over the withers, something she loves. As I started rubbing her hard with my fingers, she leaned into me with her nose wiggling. This prompted her new neighbor, a large gelding, to spin around in his stall and stare at me in disbelief. For a moment he merely observed what I was doing, then he took action. He pushed his head against the metal bars that separated his space from Little Love’s. I could see his eyes fix on me. “Come on, rub me, too” he was saying.

I continued rubbing Little Love with one hand as I pushed the fingers of my other hand through the bars. I could just about fit half my hand through. The gelding moved his head and let my fingers scratch over his forehead and nose. Then he positioned his neck to be in line with my hand. So there I stood, scratching Little Love’s withers with my left hand and with my right attempted to reach her neighbor, the big gelding. Both horses stretched their noses out in pleasure and breathed at each other through the bars of the stall.

We are mammals; we all have the need to touch each other and to be touched. Companionship is one of our basic needs, along with eating, drinking, moving and sex. Living in isolation can affect the mental state of any animal, but especially horses, as they are by nature herd animals. Isolation induces stress and a stressed animal cannot learn and train with 100% capacity. Yet ironically it is often the so called performance horses that live in such isolation.

I can now truly see the detriments of forcing an animal to live in a cage. Little Love, the horse that had not had any real horse-to-horse contact for over ten years, has now been going outside with her new friend Col for seven whole days. Due to this fact, she is a changed horse. She is more grounded, more relaxed, more at peace. Yes, she is still coming into a stall at night, but the fact that she can at all times reach over the wall and touch another of her kind, is huge.

I am happy I can finally give her the gift of a social life after all those years of isolation. And there are not a lot of things I enjoy more than watching Little Love interact with her first horse-friend in a decade. Hopefully someday she can give up stall living completely and join a herd living outside, but for the moment, she is visibly content with this small change to her life. In fact, she is so content, that someone could say she doesn’t need me anymore, at least not the way she “needed” me in her previous life. And there is some truth to that, since an imprisoned animal (or person, for that matter) will undoubtedly look forward to any interaction, even if it is with his captor and a member of another species. In that light, can we even pretend to have a real relationship with an animal that is kept in solitary confinement? I have to say that I still feel and hope I had a connection with Little Love before, when she lived a different life. This connection is now evolving and although I definitely have lost something precious (her undivided attention, perhaps?), I have also gained, and continue to gain something else in return, a whole new level of consciousness and connection I never knew about before.

This, I believe, is truly a gift.

~K

If you love something, set it free; if it comes back it's yours, if it doesn't, it never was.
- Anonymous

PS. There is another major detriment to the stall-bound life: insufficient movement. Horses are born to move and they should be allowed to move, day and night. Movement is what keeps their bodies healthy, starting from their hooves but affecting the joints, muscles and other tissues. A horse kept in a stall does not move enough and is thus prone to injury.

Two horses stretching out to touch each other

Just for Encouragement

2011-01-21T12:48:00.000-08:00

I object to violence because when it appears to do good, the good is only temporary; the evil it does is permanent. ~ Mahatma Gandhi

Last fall I met a lady, who had just recently gotten back to horses after years of having nothing to do with riding. The woman owned a big gelding with which she rides trails. She had a kind attitude towards her horse, but was nevertheless going down the traditional route, more or less. We were having a conversation about Little Love’s abusive past and how it affected the present day. I was telling her that it was extremely hard for Little Love to witness the abuse of other horses.

“You mean people at your barn hit their horses?” the woman asked.

“Yes, some do,” I said (this was when I was not yet Lilo’s owner and she was still boarding at the big barn close to my house).

The woman shook her head in disbelief. “I have never hit my horse. Ever.”

Ten minutes later, she showed me one of her many crops. “I always carry a whip when I ride though, but it’s just for encouragement. Like if he stops on the trails, I just tap him with it – to help him.”

Everything is relative, I suppose. Violence is not a black and white issue, but rather another one of those grey matters. Nobody wants to say they hit their horse; it is much easier to use words like encourage, guide, correct, help, tell, tap and even smack. And it is true, there are different levels of abuse. To take a four foot whip and hit the horse as hard as you can surely is different than giving him a few slaps on the shoulder.

Or is it really? What are the mental and emotional consequences for the horse that is subject to such actions? Especially when often this sort of behavior is coupled with extremely bad timing and human emotions that are running high?

Horses, unlike other animals, are trained mainly using negative reinforcement instead of positive reinforcement. In positive reinforcement a desired behavior is rewarded by adding a pleasant stimulus, a reinforcer - such as food, and thus making this response more likely in the future. So, in a nutshell, when we use positive reinforcement training, the animal goes from a neutral state to a positive state. This training method has been highly successful with animals ranging from marine mammals to dogs.

In horse-training, however, we apply pressure to the horse and remove it when the animal gives the desired response. Therefore, the horse starts in a negative condition, but ends in a neutral state. So in a way, you could say that negative reinforcement involves the use of a “pre-punishment”. Of course, the goal is to use as little pressure as possible, but because people don’t know any better, are impatient or have a hard time understanding the principles of this method, they often revert to excessive pressure and even punishment. In addition, the timing of the release is essential for learning, but often becomes equally muddled, leading to severe communication problems. And a confused horse is often subject to more abuse.

I also believe that a training method that is based on using pressure often paves the way to abusive behavior; if a person has already learned that it is alright to kick the horse, the next step i.e. hitting it with a crop is all too easy to take.

While I was in California over the holidays, I ran across my old trainer. She and I have grown miles apart when it comes to horses, but we still greet each other as old (but perhaps a bit apprehensive) friends. Conversation turned to horses, what else, and soon I realized I was listening to my trainer reminiscing about an old acquaintance of ours, a student we once shared.

“Remember how she just couldn’t get the horse to move off her leg,” she laughed. “It was terrible, she kept nudging and nudging and nagging and nagging and the horse just stood there. It took her forever to learn to give the aid and then the correction, then another aid and another correction, and so on, until the horse got it. In the end she barely needed the aid and didn’t have to give the correction.”

Nudging and nagging? Aid and correction? This is smart horse terminology. And with smart I mean it makes everything sound less abusive than it really is. What my old trainer was talking about was her student repeatedly kicking the horse to get the horse forward (nudge and nag). Her advice was to give a lighter leg signal (aid – as if the rider is somehow helping the horse with her leg) and then hit the horse immediately afterwards, if and when he didn’t react (this is called the correction). In the end, as the horse is now anticipating the abuse, he will undoubtedly move off the light leg “aid” out of fear and thus the rider won’t “have to” (as if we had no choice in the matter and it was the horse forcing us to take this route) beat him.

In general, talking about “aids” is slightly misleading. In dressage, this word is used frequently to signify the cues the rider gives to the horse with her leg/reins/seat/whip/spurs. In real life this means the pressure the rider/trainer puts on the horse.

In Equitation Science McGreevy and Andrew McLean (my new holy book, it seems) put it well when they comment on the use of the word “aid” in current horse-training, especially dressage: “This word is antique in origin, derived from the French verb ‘aider’, meaning ‘to help’. The notion that cues in any way offer assistance to horses is anthropocentric and… nourishes the notion of the ‘benevolent’ horse, the horse that is a willing partner. Horse-trainers should respectfully recognize that training is an act of equine exploitation rather than equine enlightenment…”

I find the term “equine exploitation” to the point. Because isn’t that really what current horse-training is? Unfortunately, to train a horse in the competition-driven world, it is hard not to rely on negative reinforcement. Yet, unlike positive reinforcement training, the effects of this method have not been studied much. Many trainers don't even know they are using negative reinforcement, as they confuse it with positive reinforcement. In any case, using such a training method without really understanding the principles of learning theory can lead to the use of excessive pressure and punishment.

The other problem in the realm of competitive equestrian sports is that the rules permit hitting horses with whips. When the FEI states in their General Regulations (2007) that “whipping or beating the horse excessively” is forbidden, they imply that hitting the horse is alright, as long as it’s not excessive. And what exactly is “excessive whipping” and how can any outsider be the judge of that? How can we justify any kind of violence, even if it is not “excessive”?

The FEI is the authority in many parts of the equestrian community. Perhaps they don’t directly affect the majority of riders in the world, but indirectly their violent attitude towards horses is significant, because it trickles down to the grass root equestrians, many of whom are children.

How is it possible that the governing body of competitive equestrian sports is supporting punishment as a training method? What good can ever come from the use of punishment? If it isn’t common sense to realize the long-term disadvantages of abusive training, science backs it up. B.F. Skinner, the American behavioral psychologist, concluded years ago that positive reinforcement was greater to punishment in altering behavior. According to him punishment was not simply the opposite of positive reinforcement; positive reinforcement results in lasting behavioral changes, whereas punishment changes behavior only temporarily and presents many detrimental side effects.

So many people claim they don’t hit their horses. I did, too - once upon a time. And if I did hit them, they certainly “deserved” it (which somehow didn't count as hitting, right?). It is easier to hit a big animal than something smaller, say a dog, which on top of cowering down onto the floor will make pathetic whimpering noises. Horses don’t do that – unfortunately.

A while ago I witnessed someone brushing their horse. The horse was extremely unhappy, pinning his ears back and making threats to bite. The person brushing the horse ignored all this and carried on as if nothing was out of the ordinary. And perhaps nothing was; maybe this was how the horse always reacted to brushing.

Finally, after several minutes, the horse crabbed the woman’s arm and bit into it – hard. She yelped in shock.

“How dare you bite me,” she hollered and stared at her horse incredulously. “That’s it, I won’t talk to you anymore,” she continued.

Then, as an afterthought, about ten seconds after the fact, she hit the horse on the neck with her fist. The horse turned his head away; his eyes were tired and there was a sort of accepting look in them. Or was he merely dissociating from the situation? After all, he had tried his best to communicate his feelings to the person brushing him.

Little Love, who had witnessed the whole scene, sighed and chewed and lowered her head. It seemed that she, too, sort of shrugged the incident off. If that horse had flinched or yelped out loud or cowered away from the human who hit him, had it made a difference? Would she have then perhaps seen the consequences of her actions? I’ll never know, because the horse took it like only a horse does, silently, stoically and without an ounce of blame or anger. And before I opened my mouth to share some of my thoughts with the owner, I sent him a message of love – just for encouragement.

~ K

Violence is the last refuge of the incompetent. ~ Salvor Hardin

The Magic of Miracles

2011-01-13T13:35:00.000-08:00

I think miracles exist in part as gifts and in part as clues that there is something beyond the flat world we see. -Peggy Noonan

Someone, and I believe the quote is attributed to Lynn Andrews who wrote the book Walk in Balance, said that “for magic to happen in your life, you must believe in magic.” I think she was right. In fact, I think basically if you think of something long enough, it will somehow happen. And that is exactly what happened to me and Little Love.

One Saturday the 9th of January 2011 I became Little Love’s official owner. Even though I wished for this for so long, I still didn’t see it coming when it happened. One day I was teaching her owner to ride the mare and the next she called me and said she was “done” riding the horse. I’m not going to dwell over her reasons for suddenly wanting an out from the ownership of Little Love, as it is part of her personal journey, but in the end she gave me an ultimatum: take her or leave her (in which case she would sell her to a breeder).

This of course happened at the worst possible moment: as I was literally packing my bags for our annual family visit to California – for three weeks. Not much to think, not that I had to think. But, I did have to convince my husband to thinking a horse was exactly what we needed, especially now that we know we will be moving this year – possibly overseas. Luckily I have a pretty understanding husband, and with understanding I mean he supported my wish even though neither of us is made of money.

Yes, I know, he is a saint.

So, long story as short as possible. Two days before our plane was scheduled to leave; I signed papers, withdrew half of my savings from the bank and handed them over to Little Love’s owner. She, in exchange, promised to take care of the horse until I came back. My only option really, as I could not think of anyone else to do that. In the meanwhile I was frantically looking around for a new barn. I knew that when I was back from my trip, I needed to move Lilo out of her barn, not only because of the atmosphere, but because it cost an arm and a leg to keep a horse there. I wanted a stable where she could at least go outside every day, rain or shine, preferably with other horses. I had two days and I was panicking, needless to say.

But then, another miracle. I woke up in the middle of the night and had a vision of a newspaper I once read, four years prior. In the morning I looked it up on the internet and low and behold, they had a classified section for horses. And there it was, the little ad “Looking for a horse to keep company to my gelding. Prefer English speaking person.” (the ad was in French). Well, did I need more of a sign? Not really.

I met the lady and her horse the next day. It was exactly what I was looking for. A stall, but lots of outside time and the possibility to have the horses together if they got along. As a bonus there was also an outdoor arena and great trails. And not for an arm and a leg. Given, the woman seemed a bit on the traditional side when it came to horse care, but eventhough she liked to have 10 blankets for her horse (one for every weather condition) and put three different pairs of boots on him when he went outside, she was a kind person. She also seemed to be willing to put up with my “quirks” which I carefully ran by her (bitless bridle, barefoot horse, no blankets really and we don’t ride much). We struck a deal. She and her horse would wait for us to return from California and then she would pick us up in her trailer.

Which happened last Sunday.

Timing could not have been worse. I had only been back in the country for 24 hours. It had been raining nonstop for days and Little Love hadn’t been outside for a week. It became soon apparent that she hadn’t had a lot of time outside her stall perse for the past three weeks. Due to the dressage clinic going on at the barn, the aisles were bustling with people – everybody was there. I had no opportunity to let Little Love go in any of the arenas to decompress the stress she had. Finally I saddled her up and rode her into the woods, cantering her down those familiar roads for the last time. It helped a bit, but I could not feel the connection, she was floating near dissociation from whatever had been going on for the past three weeks.

Loading her into the trailer in the pouring rain was a nightmare. Have I ever mentioned that she has an extreme fear of trailers? This fear stems from countless bad loading experiences involving whips and a lot of rearing, which often resulted in her falling over. And her fear is not just about trailers; it extends to include almost any small space, even if it is merely built from cavalettis on the ground.

I have loaded Little Love into a trailer before. This was at a time when I hadn’t quite internalized how abusive certain natural horsemanship techniques could be. I used a halter that tightened around the horse’s nose when it pulled back, but, on the same token, gave me the opportunity to “reward” the horse with a release, when it took a step forward. Pressure and release. Most people think this is training with positive reinforcement and so did I, a few years back.

In hindsight, I should have just had someone else load her into that trailer and have nothing to do with it myself. But to do that would have required some amazing foresight. I had practiced going into all kinds of small spaces with Little Love. Given, none of them were the trailer, but I was hoping everything we had learned together would transfer into the loading situation.

But sometimes hope is not enough. I believed she would just walk into that trailer if I gave her all the time in the world to decide to go in. I had, however, not quite fathomed that she needed days, weeks, maybe months to do that. Or maybe I knew all this; hadn’t I often wished I had a trailer and an area where I could park it and simply let Little Love get used to it in freedom, at her own pace? But I guess my desperate state of denial led me to believe I could bypass all that.

Over an hour later Little Love refused to even look at the trailer, let alone go close to it. She had been inside three times, but had not stayed in. She felt like that was enough for the day, and on an ordinary day that would have been plenty. But this was not an ordinary day – this was the day she had to stay in the trailer, because we were leaving. Many people walked by, some smiling and shaking their heads. The barn owner showed up uninvited with a large broom, like that would help. It was cold and we were all wet, including Little Love, who slipped in and out of dissociation, depending how close she was to the trailer.

I made the decision to let go of the fantasy in my head. In the end we forced Little Love into the trailer using longelines behind her and the said natural horsemanship halter my husband dug out from our cellar. She fought back bravely, but then eventually gave in. When I watched her shaking and locked in, I wanted to vomit.

Finally my horse was in the trailer, but I was heartbroken. I had done what I had vowed never to do again – I had taken control of her and forced her against her will. Driving to the new barn owner’s place I was silent and she sensed my mood. She said, cheerfully:

“Well, that wasn’t too bad.”

I looked at her, trying not to cry again.

“That was horrible,” I said.

“But why?” she said. “You didn’t hit her.”

How could I, in a nutshell, explain to this woman I had just met and who meant well (bless her heart, she had been so patient during the loading process), that I might as well have hit Little Love, as I had caused her pain and fear and anxiety all the same. I tried explaining negative reinforcement and what it did to animals, but the lady had no idea what I was talking about.

“But you didn’t hit her, it was all positive. Every time she came forward towards the trailer, you released the pressure.” she kept saying. “She had a choice.”

She had no choice, far from it, but I was too tired to speak. And I was so ashamed.

But, I had my horse in the trailer. And that trailer was taking us away from our own life to a place where maybe we had a chance of being who we really were. One day.

We have been at the new place for four whole days now. Little Love was extremely nervous in the beginning and she still is alert and aloof. She barely gives me the time of day, which is probably what I deserve. I have tried to stop thinking of what we had to do to get her into the trailer, but it is hard. I can come up with a million things I could have done differently but didn’t. And now here I am, literally in square one with this horse. With my horse.

I believe this is the lesson I will have to learn over and over again. All my life everything has been so easy for me with horses; I was the talented one, the good rider, the naturally gifted trainer. Blah blah blah. That all means nothing in the face of this one black mare that will barely look my way. And that is why she is now my horse, I suppose. So I can learn to be the human being I need to be. This is not about talent. And it’s not going to be easy.

I drive to the barn twice a day and marvel over my beautiful black mare. I think of everything we did together, the connection we discovered back at the toxic barn. Or was that really a connection? Was that just her way of dealing with imprisonment and now that she is free of that world, she wants to be free of what we had? Can we create a new connection, something we didn’t have there?

I don’t want to go back to the old barn, but I can sense that Little Love is grieving. It was her home for many, many years, after all. She lived with 30 other horses at that stable, and before that with 80 horses at another facility. She knew nothing else. And now, here she is, shell shocked with the one and only gelding who wants to befriend her more than anything else. Just the two of them and all those big fields to run around in. Maybe this is where she could begin to learn how be a horse again; where she could practice for the future, where ever the future may take us.

I always credit Little Love for teaching me patience, but I had no idea that there were more lessons in patience for me to discover. I feel so lost at the moment, as if the map I had was somehow misplaced, or perhaps I just fell off the map and am myself misplaced. And perhaps she feels the same. Was this a miracle after all? Where did the magic go? I love this horse, but I don’t feel she loves me back. Maybe she never will. I am coming to realize that perhaps horses don’t love people the same way we love them. But if we could find an ounce of the magic we once shared... I want to be convinced that there is something beyond "the flat world we see". Hopefully I will discover it, some day.

Wish me luck.

~K

There are two ways to live: you can live as if nothing is a miracle; you can live as if everything is miracle. – Albert Einstein

Ps. You can read more of Little Love on my new blog “Song of the Black Horse: A Student’s Notes” at http://www.songoftheblackhorse.blogspot.com/ This new blog will be more of a diary type reading. I will continue to explore other equine related subjects through personal essays on this blog.

Freedom Fighters

2011-01-05T20:38:00.000-08:00

To be dragged in the wake of the passive flock and to pass a hundred and one times beneath the shears of the shepherd, or to die alone like a brave eagle on a rocky crag of a great mountain: that is the dilemma. ~Praxedis Guerrero, RegeneraciÓn, 18 February 1911

Last summer I was visiting a local riding school close to my family's summer home in Finland and hit it off with the owner/riding teacher, who readily showed me the horses in her barn. She was a lady looking for solutions for a pony who seemed to be afraid of the bit and she had heard of my affiliation with the bitless bridle. As we were talking and visiting the horses, she motioned me to a stall.

"This is Bira," she said. "She was a harness racing horse, but didn't do too well at that."

I looked into the stall and met eyes with a beautiful, chestnut mare. Her face were kind, but suspicious.

"Actually, she was already scheduled to go to slaughter and was practically on the truck with two other young horses, but then I was able to talk my husband (the harness racer) into breeding her. I just couldn't see her go."

Bira stuck her nose at me and touched my hand. I wondered if she knew how I was feeling when I heard her story. Probably. I stroked her neck.

"Why was she going to slaughter in the first place?"

"Oh, they just didn't have use for her anymore and she isn't much of a mount, although I do now ride her. But I can't have her in the riding lessons. She is quite nervous of people."

The lady was right: Bira was very nervous of people. She did, however, stand politely when you brushed her and tacked her up, but her unease in the situation was obvious. She stood still to let you on her back, but if you even remotely moved out of balance or grabbed onto the reins, she was gone. It didn't take too long for the lady to say the magic words so often spoken to me in situations like this:

"Could you ride her for me?"

In the next two weeks I came back and rode Bira a few times with the bitless bridle, which worked for her far better than any of the bitted bridles she had experienced in her life (dressage snaffles look like child's play compared to harness racing equipment for those who have never seen any...). I spent a significant amount of time focusing on grounding myself through a breathing routine I do and Bira did well, under the circumstances, but I felt a disconnect that made my heart ache. I was certain there was so much more to this little mare; deep down she was another Little Love, waiting to be discovered.

"She is having a baby next year, so she's safe for a while," the owner said wistfully one day. "I'm hoping she could learn to be a riding school horse, then we could keep her. You being able to ride her in the bitless gives me hope." The lady looked at me and it was obvious she loved this horse. I went home with a wish for her and Bira.

I was also shocked. I hadn't realized healthy and vibrant horses like Bira could end up in the slaughter house, but it made sense. Who would buy her? You couldn't sell her as a race horse or a riding horse. How many of these horses were sent yearly to their death just because they weren't "good" enough?

In Australia the Sydney Herald newspaper tried to do the math. In February 2008 they wrote: Of the 17,000 thoroughbreds born last year only about two-thirds will ever make it to the racetrack. Of those, most suffer injuries or do not run fast enough and only about 1 to 3 per cent make it to top events."

In Great Britain 4,000 foals never make it to training. The racing industry is brutal. They produce foal after foal, looking for the perfect runner, but at the same time discard the ones that don't seem to "have it". Being slow can be life-threatening.

I kept Bira in my heart, but it wasn't until I was reading the book Equitation Science by Paul McGreevy and Andrew McLean that I realized the enormity of the horse slaughter scene. According McGreevy and McLean "among non-racehorses, previous studies indicate that up to 66% of euthanasia in horses between 2 and 7 years of age was not because of health disorders." This is a staggering finding. The racing industry was one thing, but my image of permanently ill and old riding horses going to slaughter was instantly turned upside down. Young and healthy riding horses and ponies were being culled as well. And why? McGreevy and McLean continue, giving you the answer: "The implication is that they were culled for behavioral reasons."

McGreevy and McLean also state that "horses are being confused on a very regular basis by less-than-ideal handling and become unusable, or worse, dangerous as a result."

My friend Sam has a horse called Destiny, or should I say, Destiny has a owner called Sam. Destiny, or D as she is known to her friends, was once one of those horses McGreevy and McLean talk about. She could have easily become another statistic, had her path not crossed with that of Sam's. When they met, she was unrideable, uncooperative and her reputation preceded her. Her corkscrew bucks were impressive and had launched several trainers out of the saddle. She was known to attack people. Her owner could not even lead her out of her stall into the arena without an incident.

It is hard to believe that now, two years later. You can see for yourself, she is the spotted mare in the photographs taken just two weeks ago when she was teaching young Maleah how to be with horses. And what a teacher she is! I would hope for everyone to meet a horse like Destiny at least once in their life; she brings such peace and grounded energy to the world. It is impossible to not feel good in her presence. Maybe that is why people who meet her often describe her as "Mother Earth".

And what made Destiny change her ways? I suppose it was a multitude of things. Sam said the first time he met her, he opted to take a different route than all the other trainers who had tried to "tame" her; he simply did nothing. He recalls taking his lunch to the barn and merely sitting on the fence watching her. It seemed like a good plan, so he showed up again the next day. And then the next. Eventually he became Dee's owner and took her to his place where she now lives and teaches children and other horses about the horse-human connection. She also no longer lives in a stall, is free fed, barefoot and gets to play with other horses, if she so chooses. Choice is a big part of her world; participation in any activity is always her choice. And most of the times she does choose to participate, as she loves hanging out with people, especially kids.

Despite Destiny's reputation Sam says he never really got into a fight with her, except once when he was trying to give her a shot. She bent the needle and attacked him. He said it took her a long time to forgive him for that one, but it took him a lot shorter time to realize what he had done wrong. He never tried to control her again and accepted her as who she was. And because of that, Dee can now respond to Sam's requests instead of reacting to his actions.

So many horses accept human training methods without much resistance; they suffer in silence because they know that fighting back will bring more pain. These are the horses people look for; the "keepers" that seemingly comply to our world. In their quiet, but unrelenting ways, these horses still seek to teach us about (in)humanity. But, if we let it happen, it is the Destinies and Biras of the world that truly have the potential to grab our attention, because they are screaming this message out loud. It is these horses, these freedom fighters, that really have the power to change a man.

According to the Animal Welfare Institute, over 100,000 horses went to slaughter in 2008 in the United States. The Daily Mail reports that roughly the same amount of horses are transported into and around the European Union for human consumption in countries such as Switzerland and France. Many of those horses are physically healthy, sound young animals - like Destiny and Bira. People rally against horse slaughter and I can see the point, but why not go to the root of the problem? Why not look at the current training methods used with horses and change the way we train horses? Why not put an effort into reducing the amount of horses going to slaughter?

Luckily the world is changing. People with real understanding for horses and animal behavior are emerging from the crowds. Books like Equitation Science, that explain horse behavior and learning theory, are being published and will hopefully change the way people look at training horses. More and more people are keen to give their horses natural living conditions. Every little step helps, even if it is a small and tentative step.

I think of Little Love and her painful journey to where she is at now. She is a horse with an opinion and she has held onto that opinion through thick and thin. Thanks to her owner's persistence (and some luck), she never became a statistic, but at times it was definitely a possibility. We have all known at least one horse like her; the ones that didn't "fit in", the ones everyone feared and nobody wanted to ride, the ones that didn't meet the potential humans had assigned to them - the 'crazy" ones. Sadly, I admit to knowing so many over the years that I have lost count.

There are no bad horses, there are just horses that have been misused, mistreated and misunderstood by humans. I used to think these horses needed to be fixed, as if they were merely a train that had veered slightly off track. But I can now see it was I who had derailed - big time. I hope others are faster to learn this lesson than I was. I try to forgive myself for my past, because it is more important that I am here now, holding my human heart close to the heart of a freedom fighter. Together we manifest for the ones out there that have not yet found a partner in heart of their own.

~ K

Human consciousness arose but a minute before midnight on the geological clock. Yet we mayflies try to bend an ancient world to our purposes, ignorant perhaps of the messages buried in its long history. Let us hope that we are still in the early morning of our April day. ~Stephen Jay Gould, "Our Allotted Lifetimes," The Panda's Thumb, 1980

I'll Meet You There

2010-12-30T07:57:00.000-08:00

People who look through keyholes are apt to get the idea that most things are keyhole shaped. ~Author Unknown

What we see depends mainly on what we look for. ~John Lubbock

What seems like a lifetime ago I pursued my Masters Degree in English Philology at the University of Helsinki. An avid reader since my childhood I had always wondered if my experience of a story was the same experience for every person who read that particular story, no matter where they lived and who they were. Could someone in Africa read Bronte's Wuthering Heights and feel the same way I did?

Common sense told me that each reader would interpret the story from their own backdrop, but what did science say? As it turned out, empirical studies on reader interpretation were extremely rare. This finding merely made me want to know more. So - true to my nature - I decided to embark on my own journey on discovering the answer. The subject of my final thesis was " Literary interpretation and cultural context: An empirical study on women readers from Finland and the United States."

The results were intriguing. In a nutshell, it was possible for readers from two different countries to read the same story (by Raymond Carver, if someone is interested) but experience it completely differently. It was not what happened in the story that was important, it was what people perceived happened that mattered.

And perception is reality.

About a year back I visited a new barn in the area where I live. I sort of found myself there by accident, as I was riding in someone else's car and they wanted to stop and see how the construction at the site was coming along. I had heard people talking about the new place and was fairly sure it was not anything I would be interested in. I was right. Gorgeous as it was, it was just another place humans could trap their horses. The person who had taken me there- let's call her Kathryn- had a completely different view.

"Wow, isn't it gorgeous," she gasped as she looked at the vaulted ceiling, the horse solarium, the pristine tack room, the double sized indoor arena adjacent to the stable. "What horse would not want to live here?"

I could think of several horses.

Kathryn's reaction was a classic example of anthropomorphism i.e. assigning human characteristics to animals and other non-human agents. She was impressed with the lighting in the barn, the large stalls and wide aisles, the warm tack room and the fact that you could walk your horse from the barn to the indoor arena without having to outside - all details a human would appreciate. But a horse? I don't think so. If horses could choose, they would rather live outside in a herd than stay in a cozy (from the human point of view) stable. In fact, many of my friends whose horses live in a place where they can go inside or outside as they please, report that their horse will usually choose to be outside in the elements, even when the weather is less than desirable.

I tried to share my view with Kathryn. She looked at me like I was a crazy person. Which I possibly was - in her world.

But again, perception is reality. Here we were looking at the same thing, but not seeing the same thing. What she thought was horse paradise looked to me like another horse prison. Our horse care belief systems obviously didn't match, not even close. I could certainly argue my point of view (and she could argue hers), but in the end it would have made little difference - we were looking at the same thing through two different lenses. To change either one of our perceptions would have required a significant personal shift in ideology - an impossibility at that time.

Horses more than any other domestic animal seem to be removed from the animal world (dogs do get their fair share of anthropomorphism as well). This fact is perhaps one of the reasons people eventually run into behavioral problems with their horses. Paul Mc Greevy and Andrew McLean write in their newest book Equitation Science that "we might say that a horse is naughty, but we must question whether our notion of human naughtiness can possible apply to horses. Perhaps the naughty horse is merely confused? The problem that then arises is what are we going to do about it? Do we have the right to punish the naughty horse? Clearly, there can be serious welfare problems in attributing human characteristics to horses because of the consequences for them."

We anthropomorphize horses because it works so well. It is convenient for humans to keep them in their stalls covered with blankets and let them out only in solitude and when the weather conditions are great. That is how we would like to live, were we horses. I now believe that this is not what horses want, but once upon a time I was out there at the barn making sure my horse had "everything it could possibly want" (of which, in hindsight, it cared not an inkling about).
For example, I used to be a stickler about keeping my horses clean, because clean horses were happy horses. Thanks to Little Love I have since changed to see this matter differently, but I am aware that this belief lives strong among most equestrians (including her owner). And not just horse people, but ordinary people who know nothing about horses, too. If you took a group of non-equestrians to two separate barns, one where the horses were running around a semi-muddy field in a heard and another where horses were stalled with blankets covering their short, clipped coats, which one do you think the majority would see as humane? I'm fairly confident when I say they would choose the latter barn.

Contained, clean, warm and dry - aren't those the four attributes that make a horse (owner) happy?

I am doing my best to rid myself of the "anthropomorphic lens". Horse are horses are horses. How could I ever think they were something else? How can anyone else still think that? So here I am, as usual, wanting to make sure everyone around me sees the world the way I do. And, if they don't, make sure to judge them for what they are or aren't. But -as I said in an earlier post this month, I am trying to exercise compassion and understanding. I think I need to try harder, we all do. We should all want to understand why and how we can have arguments over things like animal welfare, childrearing, horse training - all subjects I find quite black and white, but am starting to discover have this grey area I cannot even see, having the wrong lens to work with.

My master's thesis proved that people from two relatively similar cultures could interpret an ambiguous short story differently. And culture was not the only thing that determined the differences in interpretation: age, religious background, level of education and previous reading experiences also played a significant role in how readers perceived certain characters and plot turns. My study was not extensive, but it was enough to convince me about the differences in literary interpretation. If written word can have so many meanings, isn't it obvious why we cannot agree on how to be with our horses?

Horse people, too, have different ethical standards, different views of the world. We each have our own individual life history that has shaped us to be who we are, to think the way we think and to value the things we value. We have a certain threshold for pain, for knowledge, for comfort, for courage. We have emotional baggage, psychological baggage and even physiological baggage. We have our own needs, hopes, dreams.

How could we ever look at an image and see the same image?

Perception is reality.

What is your reality? What is the lens through which you are looking at the world? Is this the reality you are comfortable with or would you like to open your eyes a little wider and discover another one, a new lens?

And if you are like me and want to show someone a piece of your reality, what would be the best approach? Perhaps when black and white seem too much of a contrast, it is best to meet in the grey matter?

~ K

Out beyond ideas of wrongdoing
and rightdoing there is a field.
I'll meet you there. ~ Mawlana Jalal-al-Din Rumi

Won't you come into the garden? I would like my roses to see you. ~Richard Brinsley Sheridan

PS. Can you see the baby in the picture?

On Riding - Part 2.

2010-12-22T09:11:00.000-08:00

There is nothing like returning to a place that remains unchanged to find the ways in which you yourself have altered. ~Nelson Mandela

Exactly one and a half years ago I wrote a blog entry about my feelings towards riding (On Riding 26th of May, 2009). Time has passed between then and now and has helped me refine my thoughts. I realize that after a slow and tender process, I have finally let go of the dressage rider within. To reach this point is monumental, as I have ridden horses for over thirty years and once swore I would be a dressage rider until I was a doddery old woman nearing her death bed.

I am now riding approximately 95% less than I was two years ago and, and until about three weeks ago when a student asked me to ride her horse, it had been months since I worked a horse in the arena. It felt strange to sit on a horse other than Little Love and even stranger to start working the horse into some sort of frame. He was bitless, of course, but nevertheless I felt oddly out of place on his back. Due to my sore tailbone I took it easy, but ended up riding for over forty minutes at walk and rising trot.

The horse I was riding was one of the biggest horses I have ever ridden, and I have ridden some pretty massive ones in the past, having been a vaulting trainer. I have known this horse for a few years now and have ridden him a few times before, so I knew going into the ride how much power and focus I would need. Due to the fact that I hadn’t truly ridden dressage for months, I felt slightly intimidated by the situation.

Before getting on, I sent the horse a mental message of what we would be doing together. I also explained that I would not ask for anything he could not physically do. I hoped for two way communication and promised to listen to what the horse had to say. I got into the saddle with a “one step at a time” attitude, trying to let go of any previous experiences, any set goals or plans for the ride, all possible premonitions.

I had nothing to worry about. What had previously been strenuous and perhaps a challenge with this particular horse now came easily and without a second thought. With relatively light effort and by making adjustments in my own seat I was able to guide the horse towards straightness. This resulted in him relaxing and starting to use his muscles correctly. In the end we had beautiful collection, something this young horse did not offer on a daily basis.

I was stumped. How could it be possible that after not riding for months, I seemed to be a better rider than before? Wasn’t it practice that made you perfect?

Ask any dressage rider what their ultimate goal is, and the word "connection" will pop up in the conversation. They are talking about the kind of connection that leads to harmony with the horse, another concept that so often seems out of reach. To reach this ultimate goal, most dressage riders spend their whole life taking lessons and perfecting their riding skills. And I, too, can recall being that person, diligently striving for that missing piece that would lead to bliss under saddle.

I drove home thinking about the ride on my student's horse. All these years I had believed that riding was a technical and physical task based on the laws of biomechanics - something it undoubtedly also is. But perhaps I hadn’t given enough credit to the emotional and psychological side of it. Something had happened in that arena with that horse that I had never truly understood before. Was this what connection and harmony could feel like? Was this the dream under saddle everyone was chasing? How ironic that I had had to first let go of riding, to feel this.

But how appropriate.

It was not the first time I had experienced something I thought was connection and harmony. At several occasions during my dressage "career" (if you can call it that) there had been times where I had felt that "Eureka!" moment. Those moments had always been a product of hard work, a result of struggle and hours of sweating in the saddle. I now realize that perhaps some of them had been contrived, based on a physical feeling rather than a holistic feeling. In all the training and practicing and honing of skill, I had lacked the connection that came from within. In fact, was it possible that by focusing solely on the physical aspect of riding, I had prevented myself from finding what I was looking for?

What is true connection? Is it the ability to go together in physical movement without hindering each other? Or is it something more, something invisible and unattainable by force? You can force a horse into movement and you can will yourself to follow that movement with your body, but can harmony be present in such an act? The American Heritage Dictionary says that harmony is "agreement in feeling or opinion". When we bridle and saddle a horse, is it even possible for him to feel harmonious? Is the harmony we seek just a subjective dream created by human?

The experience with my student's horse had been exceptional, yet it didn’t make me want to ride more. Actually, quite the contrary. I am no longer able to turn back and return where I once was, the dressage rider within is gone forever.

This fall one of my blog readers sent me some interesting information about the damage riding causes to horses’ backs. This extensive study talks about the sinking of the back (and thus pressure on the vertebrae); the tissue damage caused by excessive pressure; the fact that horses grow until up to the age 5 and even beyond, but yet are trained under saddle starting at 3 and even younger. Not to mention the harmful effects of the riders hands and bad body posture (seat). But even under the best rider in the world, harmful pressure is applied to the horse’s back. After the investigation of 443 horses, the findings concluded that only 7% of the horses had NO damage to their backs.

Seven percent.

These are sobering details. Many people will like to argue that this was just one study and it is true, it is just one study. I wonder why this subject has not been studied more. Perhaps because we are afraid of what we will find?

Under the current circumstances I still trail ride Little Love, but I can't help but wonder: If she was given free choice, would she ever let me on her back again? I'm not sure. Does any horse want to be ridden? Perhaps not. They did not evolve over millions of years just to carry us on their backs.

My friend Sam tells me that when children and adults interact with his horses in liberty, some horses occasionally invite people on their backs. I believe this does not happen because the horse wants to be ridden in the traditional sense, but because he wants to give the human the gift of riding. After all, love and friendship are about giving and allowing. The key factor in these situations is to respect the wishes of the gift giver.

One day, when Little Love's and my situation is different, I hope to be able to offer her that choice and let her decide for herself. In the meanwhile, I try to stay off her back as much as possible. The abovementioned study concludes that we should not ride horses for more than 15 minutes at a time and always in free collection. I am keeping this in mind and helping Little Love discover free collection during our liberty work. I make a point of dismounting and walking on the trails when possible. I cannot control how others ride this horse, but I can make these choices for myself.

Letting go of riding is not always easy. For some people it happens overnight and for some, like me, it is a slow and winding road. Then there are those who don't ever want to take that journey. We all must evolve in our own time, with our own horses.

~ K

It is only when we silent the blaring sounds of our daily existence that we can finally hear the whispers of truth that life reveals to us, as it stands knocking on the doorsteps of our hearts. ~K.T. Jong

Highest Form of Human Intelligence

2010-12-14T12:29:00.000-08:00

Sometimes the only way you can take a really good look at yourself is through somebody else's eyes. ~From the television show Scrubs

A few days ago I was at the barn in the late afternoon and had just tacked up for a short trail ride. When I walked to the yard, another boarder was preparing to go on a ride with her mare as well. I used to ride this woman’s horses for the first year I lived in Switzerland, so we know each other fairly well even though we have taken two completely separate paths since; her the competitive dressage path and me… well, we all know I’m taking the path less travelled.

However, despite our differing views, I do try to stay in a working relationship with the people I meet at a daily basis at the barn, even if in passing. So, when I saw this lady leaving for her ride, I asked politely if she was going on the trails.

“Yes, but I go alone,” was her terse answer.

I shrugged off her rudeness. I didn’t care if we went together or not, I had just tried to be polite.

After my ride, I saw the lady in the tack room; she was cleaning her saddle and bridle. When she saw me she smiled apologetically.

“Sorry about earlier, it was not because of you that I didn’t want to ride together.”

“No worries,” I said. But the lady wasn’t done talking, she wanted to explain.

“It’s because of that horse.”

“That horse?” I said, confused. “Do you mean Little Love?”

Yes. She meant Little Love.

“I have made a decision not to go out ever again with that crazy horse,” the woman continued.

I see.

“But we have ridden together before without any problems,” I pointed out.

“Yes, but last time I was out with the owner, that crazy mare spooked my mare. I can’t afford to have that happen. The way you all ride her without a bit…” She looked at me accusingly.

Right. I should have known this was about the bitless bridle.

“I’m sorry you have made that decision. Of course, you need to do what you feel is right for yourself.” I wasn’t going to challenge the woman any further, there was no point. She had already passed her judgment. But I have to admit, I was angry and hurt. For a moment I wanted to leave, but then I remembered a book I recently read about nonviolent communication that had raised my awareness about passing judgment. It is so easy to judge other people, hadn’t the woman just done that? Maybe it was worth trying to learn to be different. I took a deep breath and did my best to remain neutral about the woman’s comments. Maybe, instead of getting furious, I could make an effort to understand her world.

“You’ve been here for a long time today,” I said lightly.

The lady rubbed her tack vigorously. “Yes, I know, it’s because of my stupid mare.”

“Oh,” I said, suddenly realizing that perhaps there was more to this woman’s foul mood than Little Love and the bitless bridle. “What happened?”

“Wednesday when I rode, she was so good. And then yesterday she was awesome when my trainer rode her for an hour and a half. It was so beautiful. But today…”

“It didn’t go so well?”

The lady looked up at me, visibly delighted I was taking an interest in her problems. “You know,” she continued, “the first half an hour the mare was like a dream. I was really happy with her, especially with the piaffe and passage. But then suddenly she got all heavy in the front and tight in the neck.”

I made an effort to remain neutral, but it was getting increasingly harder. I said: “Sometimes it’s hard to know when to stop.”

The lady gave me a sharp look, but then said: “I couldn’t get her to relax after that, it was awful, her neck was like an iron rod. After trying for fifteen minutes, I started cantering her. Usually at the canter she comes around, but this time it took 45 minutes. I mean, can you believe it?”

“Wow, you cantered her for 45 minutes?”

“Yes, I actually timed it.” The woman sounded frustrated. “And I did lead changes, counter canter, small circles, big circles, bending left, bending right and then finally, after 45 minutes she let go and relaxed. I was absolutely exhausted.” The woman dipped the two bits of her double bridle in the bucket in front of her to clean them off.

Silence. I couldn’t think of anything to say that wouldn’t sound like an accusation. Finally I said: “She is in pretty good shape if she could canter 45 minutes.”

The woman snorted. “That’s nothing, last summer I warmed her up for three hours at one competition. I just don’t get it, why did she have to do this to me today?”

“Well… you rode her hard Wednesday and your trainer rode yesterday, maybe she just needed a break?” I suggested.

The lady gave me a sideways glance. “A break?” She said. “Are you kidding me? She’s nine years old and she needs to be able to handle getting ridden hard three days in a row. She has no idea what we have ahead of us next competition season. I can’t afford to have this happen then.”

Of course not. I thought of her mare, the only horse in the barn that attacked the metal bars of her stall every time another living being passed close by. I searched my brain for something to say that would not make this woman defensive, but would at the same time help her perhaps understand what her horse was trying to tell her.

The lady hadn’t noticed my silence. She wrapped her double bridle up in a neat bundle and hung it on a hook on the wall. “Of course the annoying part is that I couldn’t just put the mare into her stall after all that. I had to walk her for twenty minutes and now she’s sweating like crazy, even though I clipped her two weeks ago.”

I nodded. “Well, she did work quite hard. She must be tired.”

The lady ignored my comment and sighed loudly. “It’s always something with that mare. Now I have to come back to change her blanket and I haven’t even had lunch yet. And all because of that stupid horse. Sometimes I don’t understand why I even bother.”

Frankly, I was starting to wonder about that as well.

My immediate reaction to what this lady was saying was utter and pure judgment. How could she treat her horse like that? How could she demand all those things and then blame the horse for what had happened as if it had planned it all along just to ruin her day? And not only that, she had also judged Little Love and my use of the bitless bridle. Didn’t I have the right to judge her back? Didn’t I have the right to tell her exactly what I thought?

Honestly, I wanted to scream out loud.

But then I remembered - some years back, I was this lady.

The Indian philosopher J. Krishnamurti once remarked that observing without evaluating is the highest form of human intelligence. He must have been right, because it is so very difficult (sometimes nearly impossible) not to be judgmental of people who do not share your views. But judging doesn’t get us anywhere, it doesn’t help us understand. And I feel that it is important to try to understand everything anyone does. Only then, when I have full understanding, can I hope to have compassion. And nothing has the power to help people like compassion does, this I have seen over and over again.

I believe my New Year’s resolution will be to try to understand and observe without passing judgment. Sounds pretty noble, to be honest. I’m not sure it will work 100% (heck, I'll take 50%) as I don’t think I am exactly saint quality and never will be. But damn if I’m not going to try my best to change my thinking from: “That self-centered woman abuses and uses her horse”(definite evaluation) to “She is not yet on the Path” (a neutral observation).

Everyone can change – I can and so can this lady. Sometimes change is not likely, but it is always possible.

~K

Still learning. Will never stop.

Always when judging
Who people are,
Remember to footnote
The words "So far."

~Robert Brault

All of Our Future

2010-12-06T13:00:00.000-08:00

Children are one third of our population and all of our future. ~Select Panel for the Promotion of Child Health, 1981

A friend of mine is a children’s book writer. She is also a horse enthusiast, so naturally she writes about horses. She, like so many of us, believes in kindness to animals and is against inflicting any kind of pain to horses. The first version of her newest manuscript, a lovely picture book for younger children, is a story about a little girl discovering horses at a barn where barefoot horses are ridden in bitless bridles. Sounds absolutely wonderful, doesn’t it?

The publisher, however, had a problem. According to them, horses in books must have bits and shoes, to prevent little readers from feeling guilty and sad for the horses they encounter in real life; all surely using bits and shoes.

It’s hard to wrap your mind around this argument. We want to teach children to be kind and considerate to animals, something children by nature already are. Children want to be on the animal’s side, and would love nothing more than have adult support in this matter. And aren’t books a means of reflecting change in our society? Good books don’t merely repeat what has been said over and over again for decades, but try to follow new trends and bring fresh expert advice to readers.

I can, however, understand the publisher’s concern. Perhaps they are truly afraid of causing a guilt trip to their little readers. Who would want to read a book to their children about caged industrial chicken and their miserable lives? Or the real story about where the majority of our beef comes from. But should we underestimate our children by not telling them the truth? Should this publisher be concerned of making such a radical statement as admitting that the current way of being with horses is abusive?

My friend made a compromise with her publisher. She agreed to omit all verbal mentions of the bitless bridles and barefoot hooves, but asked that the illustrated horses in the book would not have bits or horseshoes. She based her argument on the fact that no children’s book should promote abusive controlling devices and it should always be a reflection of the writer’s own beliefs. The publisher finally agreed to this solution; perhaps a small victory at best, but a step towards the right direction.

As a mother, I know how tricky it can sometimes be to answer your child’s eager questions. You want to communicate your values to your child, but on the same token, you don’t want to distress your child with too much information. Because let’s face it: the world we live in today is not exactly a bed of roses. Animals are not treated fairly. Heck, people are not treated fairly. Children have little control over most aspects of our society, so why burden them with the uncomfortable truth when they can’t do anything about it? At least not yet.

Of course it’s not just what we say to our children or the books we read to them that shape them as individuals. It is who we are that counts the most, that teaches them how to be in this world.

Take an incident I witnessed a few weeks ago while I was visiting another barn nearby:

A woman in her thirties was taking care of her horse, which was standing in crossties. The woman’s approximately three year old son was playing with his cars in the barn aisle in front of the horse. The horse was standing calmly while his owner worked on her after-riding rituals, taking the tack away, brushing the entire horse, greasing the hooves.

She went around the horse, picking up each foot to apply grease to the bottom of the hoof. The hose’s expression was bored, until the owner tried to pick up the left front. Instead of lifting the foot, the horse leaned into his owner, putting weight on the foot she was trying to grease. The owner yanked on the leg and elbowed the horse, but he didn’t budge. Then, without as much as a warning, the woman straightened up, yelled at her horse and hit him hard on the shoulder with the hoof pick.

At this point the horse moved and picked up his foot, but I was no longer looking at the horse or the owner. I was looking at the little boy, who had stopped playing with his cars and was watching his mother intently. What was going through his head? Had he seen his mother hit the horse before? Or had he possibly been subject to his mother’s rage and knew what the horse was going through? His little face was solemn and grave, but there was a hint of wonder flickering behind his big, brown eyes.

Children are very observant; in fact, they are so observant they often notice things we don’t. When my son was just a toddler he used to come with me to the barn quite often. Once, long before I was consciously on any Path, my three year old son watched my student riding in the arena. He stared at the horse for a while, and then asked:”Why is the horse opening his mouth?”

I looked at the horse and low and behold, the mouth was open. Of course, there was a noseband trying to keep the mouth shut, but the horse was doing his best to fight the strap across his nose. Despite the numerous lessons we had done together with this particular rider and her horse, I had never made this observation. And there was my toddler son pointing it out to me in all his innocent curiosity. He was obviously far further on the Path than I was and not because someone had told him about it, but because he simply observed his environment and questioned everything that was happening in it, something I should have been doing, had I not been blinded by everything I had learned about horses in the past thirty years.

Eight years ago when I first became a mother, a lot of people gave me advice, but the single most valuable piece of guidance was given to me by an old friend, a mother of three. My friend said: “When you are in the presence of your child, never ever forget to ask yourself this question: What am I teaching my child at this very moment?”

Children are clean slates. This might sound like a cliché, but only because it is true. Children already know the truth. But then we go ahead and tamper with it. Like the little boy watching his mother hit her horse. What did he learn from that situation? Certainly not patience or kindness or empathy. Will he grow up to be his mother? Or will he somehow deviate from her path and learn to question the way his mother treats animals?

A few years back, before my time with Little Love, I spent a few months riding at a very fancy dressage stable by Lake Geneva. I deliberately sought out the owner to see if she needed anyone to ride her many horses, and she did. I was happy to start riding at her place, as it gave me the opportunity to ride some excellent horses (something important to me at the time) but it didn’t take me very long to realize the culture of violence that was present in everything that was done at this facility.

This was a private barn with a handful of adults, a few teenagers and a dozen horses. There was also an eleven year old girl, who showed up every single day to ride her expensive dressage pony. She obviously loved horses, but she also worshipped the barn owner and her adult daughter; both successful riders with extremely forceful techniques. This admiration from the little girl’s part resulted in some of the most abusive behavior I have ever seen a rider exhibit.

I can tell you, it is a whole different ball game to witness an adult behaving in a cruel way towards animals than witnessing a young child doing the same. Seeing children participate in beating horses, kicking them with spurs, yelling, slapping, whipping, pulling them into excessive rollkur by using drawreins is to say the least, revolting. We expect children to be pure and innocent, but there is nothing innocent about blatant violence.

This eleven year old girl had not only adapted every single move she had witnessed her idols doing, she had perfected them by exaggeration. It was not, of course, her fault she had turned this way. She was only repeating what she had learned. No amount of interference from my part would make her change her ways. In fact, it only got me into to trouble with the barn owner, who openly supported this violence.

It doesn’t take a lot to guide a child the wrong way. Last summer I had the opportunity to give my niece a private riding lesson. She is a nine year old horse enthusiast who had at that point been riding once a week for less than a year at a local riding school in her home country. It was interesting to see how she related to the horses, which was with quite a mechanical manner, as if she was riding a bike. She had learned to use her legs to kick their sides to ask for forward movement, she had learned to use her hands to pull on their mouths to turn them and stop them. Nobody had ever corrected her seat, nor had they told her about the nature of the horse, what a sensitive animal it was.

She told me about the angry ponies back home, how one would bite and the other threaten to kick. I was saddened to hear this and tried to gently explain why a horse would behave in this sort of manner. At first my niece simply watched me interact with the horses in silence, but soon the questions started. Why do you not use the bit? Why do some horse have shoes and some don’t? Is that horse angry or happy?

I have to admit: I felt inadequate in the face of this child. I could offer her the truth I knew, but I could not help her any further. If she wanted to be with horses, she would have to continue riding at her mainstream riding school as there were no other options nearby. How could I possibly tell her about the harmful effects of the bit, when I knew she had no option but ride in a bit? How could I explain that shoeing horses was detrimental to their health when most horses she knew had shoes? How could I enlighten her about the abuse she was learning at her riding school?

If I told her what I knew, would she feel as powerless as I do, in the face of helping horses?

So here we are, back to the question of guilt trips.

I told my niece I didn’t use a bit because I personally believed bits were not necessary and that horses preferred going without. I told her that horseshoeing was an old tradition, but that horses were born without shoes and did much better without them. I did my best to teach her how to sit on the horse correctly and how sensitive they really were, and how willing to communicate if we took a moment to listen to them. We spent some time grooming the ponies and talking about their body language and the personal space they had and how to respect that. All I could hope was that perhaps I planted a small little seed in my niece’s inquisitive and thoughtful little head, a seed that would have the opportunity to grow as she got older. But in hindsight, I can see that just like my friend’s publisher, I chose a careful option, the compromise. I still don’t know if it was the right thing to do. Children are so much smarter than what we often give them credit for and can handle surprisingly controversial information. My son is only eight and is fully aware of global warming and what is happening to the planet. So why not tell the ugly truth about horses? Perhaps it is only us adults who know about guilt trips?

The Path is the birthright of all children, you don’t have to convince them to be kind to animals; it comes as second nature to them, at least until they learn something else. When I was a child, I often imagined being a cat or a dog or a horse. I wanted to know what they were feeling, how it was to be in the world as an animal. But I lost that, because I was taught to control animals instead of understanding them. The same thing is happening to so many other children out there, who love horses, but end up treating them inhumanely simply because that is how adults treat them.

In the meanwhile, I want to hold onto my dream that one day there will only be barns like the one in my friend’s children’s book, where horses are treated with respect and without the fear of pain or force. Perhaps my dream will come true, but maybe not in my lifetime.

My son rarely comes to the barn with me anymore, but when he does, I let Little Love loose in the arena with him. She always follows him, where ever he goes, as if they have a silent agreement to walk together. It brings tears to my eyes every time, because this is a horse that follows next to nobody. But she follows him, because he knows more about horses and their ways than I will perhaps ever be able to understand.

~K

A child can ask questions that a wise man cannot answer. ~Author Unknown

I Cannot Stop

2010-11-28T13:19:00.000-08:00

“Impermanence is the very essence of joy – the drop of bitterness that enables one to perceive the sweet.” - Myrtle Reed

One of the hardest things about finding the Path is the fact that it is your personal journey. And with personal I mean that no two journeys can be the same. As you travel, not everybody around you will travel with you. In fact, there will be many who will never even get on the Path; friends, family, fellow boarders, trainers, will continue to do all those things you are trying to move away from.

This, to say the least, can make matters complicated.

I can’t pinpoint the moment I took a turn onto the Path of the Horse, but I know the seed was planted years and years ago. Anybody who has followed my blog for a while knows that meeting the black mare called Little Love and having her as my guide and anchor in this process has been absolutely monumental. She pushed me to seek new ways; she stripped me down to the very core of myself, a place where you have no other option but to see things as what they are.

Unfortunately, Little Love’s owner does not quite share my vision.

I know I cannot force anyone down the Path, and I have learned this the hard way. Even if I ride bitless, it doesn’t mean people around me or even someone riding the same horse as I am riding, will stop using the bit. Even if I stop forcing the horse to work in the arena when she clearly hates it, doesn’t mean others will not continue believing in this sort of work and even enforce it with a whip. Even if I tell someone about all the things I have discovered, the emotions I have encountered, the self-reflection I have gained, the insight the horse has shared with me, I cannot guarantee she will believe me or understand me.

On the 13th of March I wrote a blog entry I called “What if”. I believe this entry is the closest I have ever in my entire blog, come to actually telling the truth of how I feel about Little Love. She has taught me so much and since that time last spring, I have made even more progress in discovering the truth about horse human relationships, which in itself has been absolutely priceless. This knowledge, however, has put me in an unbearable situation: between a horse and the horse’s owner.

I know, Little Love is not my horse, so in reality, I have no say in what her owner does with her. But, I cannot stop trying to influence the situation. I cannot stop trying to fight for what I think is the right thing for my horse friend and for all horses, for that matter. I cannot stop trying to shine the light down on her owner, in hopes of her catching the one ray that will transform her to see what horses really are about – for once and for all.

Do I have a right to do that? I’m sure there are people out there reading this and thinking I don’t. But how can I stop? How could I ever let myself give up? And how can I continue, when my emotions are clearly overriding all rational thinking? I realize I am far too deep in the woods to find my way out.

A few weeks back I took part in an Animal Communication workshop with Marta Williams. The workshop was about talking with horses and I was excited to see that there were a good twenty people present, some obviously very talented in communicating with animals.

During a group exercise I volunteered to share Little Love’s picture with five people. I gave no background information other than her name and age. The group did very well with the picture and relayed fairly accurate information back to me, information which I was able to verify. They had obviously been able to communicate with Little Love intuitively.

In the end the group asked if I had any personal questions to Little Love, to which I was looking for answers.

“Yes,” I said, trying to hold back emotion. “Can you ask her what she wants in terms of the future? Does she want to stay with her owner or would she like to be with me?”

Ah, such a selfish question, I know, but I couldn’t help myself. I have come far with my personal journey, but I have not apparently yet reached the completely selfless place we all hold within ourselves.

The animal communication team went to work and soon I had my answer: Little Love didn’t want to choose.

The answer didn’t surprise me. In fact, this was the same answer Little Love had given me, but which I had denied. I thanked the group, trying to not show my disappointment. What had I expected?

Then a young woman, who had demonstrated amazing communication skills during the course, reached her hand out and said: “I don’t know if this makes sense, but Little Love told me that she can’t leave her owner yet, because there is still work to do.” She looked at me. “Do you know what she means?”

Yes, I did know what she meant. Despite my own desperation over the situation, I couldn’t help but smile. Leave it to Little Love to put everything in perspective. For horses it is never about what they can do for themselves, but what they can do for others. There was a reason why Little Love had shown up in my life, but there was also certainly a reason why she had shown up in her owner’s life much earlier. Some nuts are harder to crack than others. Little Love was obviously not ready to throw in the towel when it came to her owner, even if I was.

I continue to support Little Love’s owner in her endeavors with her horse, even though it sometimes brings me to my knees. I never imagined it was possible to feel such desperation and pain over a horse, but apparently it is. I can try to guide her owner towards more humane ways of being with her horse, but how can I stop myself from feeling the way I do? Am I selfish to want to steel this horse away from the world and take it to a place where she can be a real horse again; stall-free, iron-free and even rider-free?

In approximately eight months I will be moving away. I do not know yet where, all I know is that we are moving to another country. This country may be relatively close or it could be on the other side of the world, beyond an ocean or two. The possibilities are open, the future is unknown. Where does that leave me and Little Love?

I don’t know.

All I know is that when I think of leaving her behind, I cannot stop my heart from breaking.

~K

“There are no rules of architecture for a castle in the clouds.” - G.K. Chesterton

Connected

2010-11-22T12:31:00.000-08:00

“We are each of us angels with only one wing, and we can only fly by embracing one another.” – Luciano de Crescenzo

After posting my last entry; Wounded Healer, I received an overwhelming amount of messages from people who were touched by the life of Saphie, the little, gray mare. Even complete strangers reached out, sharing their own, sometimes heartbreaking stories with me. Many marveled over the capacity horses have for forgiveness and the wisdom they hold, if we dare to listen. Many also shared their own difficulties of following the path, when the rest of the world stands still around us.

I read each message with a growing sense of wonder. It was hard to ignore what these messages were telling me: out there, in the world, there exists other people who are discovering horses the same way as I am. Together - yet separately - we are being touched by horses and guided down the Path. A coincidence? Hardly. It seems as if the horses of the world have made a collective decision to start showing humans another way, to tell us about a new level of consciousness, to teach us how life really should be lived.

Or perhaps there was no decision, perhaps this is something written in the horse’s DNA. We know that horses live in the present moment, despite any baggage they may carry from their past. And because of that, horses have the before mentioned capacity to forgive. They will take you at face value, just as you are, even if yesterday you were someone else. All you have to do is open your heart and be willing to change. Because they are always ready - and have been for centuries.

I look back at my life and see how horses always tried to offer me wisdom, but how I was not ready receive it, not in its full extent. When I was younger, I used to love riding horses. I would ride any horse given to me and take pride in the way I was able to connect with the animal. Yes, I was a talented rider and had the ability to transform even the less capable horse into a nicely moving mount. Riding dressage was like a drug for me, I sought it over and over again, finally riding up to six horses a day.

But why did I ride? What was it that was so addicting? People used to ask this question over and over again, and every time I gave the same answer.

“When I’m riding, it’s like I can’t think of anything else. I have to just be there, on that horse.”

I’m sure others who have ridden or still do understand what I mean. When you sit on a horse, be it in the arena or on the trails, it’s hard to mentally be anywhere else. There is something about the horse that doesn’t allow you to lose focus. The horse guides you into the moment and the feeling of being in the moment, being free from the past and the present, is utterly addicting.

And I suppose that is why most people ride, even if they don’t consciously think about it. Horses have the ability to pull you away from you left brain into your right brain, as if you were meditating. Suddenly whatever happened at work earlier that day or the argument you had with your kids in the car or the work that awaits you at home doesn’t matter. Nothing else matters but the ride.

Of course in hindsight I see now that what I was feeling during my rides was just a promise of what could be; it was the edge of the matter, not the center. When I sat on a horse and forced it to perform for me, what I felt was not connectedness (although I thought it was that, at the time), but a passing shadow of the harmony the horse could have offered me, had I truly listened. What I experienced was the horse, even after being oppressed, still reaching out and sending his message: “Seek me. I’m in here. And I am willing to share my wisdom.”

But now I do feel, see and hear what horses have to say, and so do others – all over the world. We may not be many and we are nowhere near of becoming a majority, but we exist, nevertheless. Life is not always easy for the pioneers. My joy over discovering horse wisdom has been and continues to often be mixed with feelings of frustration, anger and complete isolation. There are times when I feel desperately alone. There are days when I want to quit. Yes. Walk away and never look back. But then I realize that I am well beyond the point of walking away. Because when you have seen the light, it’s hardly possible to ignore it, even if others are trying to pull you back into the darkness.

A year and a half ago I started writing this blog, not only to sort out my own thoughts and feelings, but in the hopes of making a difference in someone’s life, even if it meant reaching only one person who is experiencing the same emotions as I am. And your messages, the ones which poured in after the last blog post, but also the ones I have received along the way, are proof that I am not in this alone. And neither are you. We are all connected over the universe through our horses, beautiful horses that shine their collective wisdom over anyone who is ready to take it in.

I urge you: let’s not only continue traveling down this path, but let's make sure others know what we are doing. I am not asking you to stand up in arms, nor am I suggesting you start preaching, because it is never possible to force others onto the path. But we can lead silently, by example.

“We must remember that one determined person can make a significant difference, and that a small group of determined people can change the course of history.” - Sonia Johnson

Thank you for reading and believing.

~K

Wounded Healer

2010-11-14T06:08:00.000-08:00

“The events in our lives happen in a sequence in time, but in their significance to ourselves they find their own order… the continuous thread of revelation.” - Eudora Welty

Last year I watched the movie Instinct with Anthony Hopkins starring as a man who leaves humanity behind to live with animals only to return to society under unpleasant circumstances. While in prison, he meets a psychiatrist played by Cuba Gooding Jr. The movie is inspired by Daniel Quinn’s novel Ishmael and gives the viewer valuable lessons about human and animal relationships.

In the movie there is a scene where Hopkins, who previously has lived with gorillas in the wild, is allowed to visit the gorillas at the zoo. Saddened by the state of the captive animals, he relives some traumatic memories from the past. He also, to make a point, opens the cage door of the imprisoned silver back male. Cuba Gooding Jr.’s character, who is there with him, is aptly horrified. He is clearly afraid the enormous gorilla will surely escape.

“He won't come out,” Anthony Hopkins says. “You see? Even if he can.” And it’s true; the huge male ape barely gives the open door a second look. Anthony Hopkins looks sad. “Not far from here is a fence, and on the other side of that fence is freedom, and he can smell it. He'll never try to get there, because he's given up. By now he thinks freedom is something he dreamed.”

There are many scenes in this movie that remind me of horses and the various ways we have taken their freedom, but this particular one reminded me of a certain gray mare I met two years ago almost to the date. My good friend Sam introduced us on a cold winter morning in California. My first impression of this little, gray horse was heart-wrenching; although at first contact she seemed sociable, I could feel an overpowering sadness welling up inside me. Her back sagged and the muscling on the underside of her neck told a story of tension and resistance.

“This is Sapphire,” Sam said. The mare turned her head and touched my hand, her ears carefully placed forward, her expression neutral. She was kind, but her gesture was slightly mechanical, as if she was merely behaving the way she had learned to behave to avoid trouble.

“Touch her mouth,” Sam said, nodding toward the mare’s head. I wrinkled my brow. What did he mean?

Curious, I slid my fingers down the mare’s nose to her lips. When my hand came to the corner of her mouth, I stopped. The flesh of her lips was hard, like it wasn’t flesh at all, but a solid piece of wood. I pulled my hand away, confused.

“What is that?” I couldn’t help but touch it again. Saphie turned her head and I felt the other side of her mouth. It was even worse, the hardness extending toward her cheek.

“It’s scarring,” Sam said.

“Scarring?” Even though I was already fully aware of the harmful effects of the bit, I had never actually seen such extensive tissue damage.

“Imagine what it took to produce that kind of scarring,” Sam said. He shook his head. “This horse has gone through a lot.”

And that she had.

In fact, she had several loose and cracked teeth from the heavy hands that had ridden her during her 14 years of life. She was spooky, nervous and had been labeled a crazy Arab mare at her previous home, a riding school, where she had been placed after what Sam called “her fall from grace” as a prestigious dressage horse. She had a reputation of being barn sour to the point that she didn’t want to leave the stall never mind the property. If you turned her out she would run herself into the ground.

Saphie didn’t trust people and was constantly in flight mode which meant reacting to everything around her. She was a horse that literally could not think about eating hay, grain, treats or even green grass when a person was anywhere near her. Not that humans wanted anything to do with her at this point anyways, not a soul seemed to care about this sad wreck of a horse.

Saphie came into Sam’s life at a time that he was starting to work with “natural horsemanship” something he now looks back on with a sense of sadness and shame. I know how he feels, having been down a similar road myself. We all start our path somewhere; many things we learn on the way make sense at the time, but often later seem harsh and even abusive. But, it is important to get on the path, and sometimes methods we abandon later can be, as Sam says, “doorways to something different”.

So Sam did what he felt was the right thing. He would let Saphie loose in the arena and interrupt her frantic cantering by demanding her attention, cutting her off and forcing her to change direction by waving a flag at her. He would let her run around him at the end of the rope halter and long line until she was worn down, exhausted and often dripping wet. He worked her in the round pen, he backed her up over and over again by wiggling or bumping the rope halter on her nose.

Later, in an email to me, Sam wrote: “All of these so-called natural ways of doing things involved (negative conditioning) persistent pressure, punishment or mental /physical pain. Needless to say Saphie was not impressed with the whole natural horsemanship system.”

When Sam moved to a new barn he decided to try expanding Saphie’s territory. This involved leaving her stall door open all day. How ingenious. I wished I could do the same. What would Little Love do in such a situation? What would any horse do? I had always thought a horse whom was offered such a possibility would rush out and run around. Wasn’t that why we kept them locked up in the first place?

But not Saphie. She was like the gorilla in the movie, who thought freedom was something he dreamed. It took the little gray mare weeks to merely peek out the open door. The slightest noise or perceived danger would make her bolt back into the safety of the stall. But, when you give something enough time, changes will start happening. Slowly, one step at a time, Saphie made her way out of her prison. Soon the barn isle became the place to meet boys and clean up spilled hay. But, although the barn doors were never closed, she never dared venture outside.

To give her some help, Sam decided to start leading her outside with a halter. He would walk her away from the barn and let her go. But as soon he released his grip on the mare, Saphie would panic and run back in. She was in such a hurry to get back to the safety of her stall that on one occasion she actually fell over. This was a clear message to Sam and he let her be.

Again weeks went by and although Saphie now seemed completely comfortable in the barn isle Sam thought she would never build up the confidence to go exploring. Then, one windy day, Saphie came out of her stall and marched with rhythm and purpose straight out of the barn. She walked calmly past a strange flapping blue tarp that had been placed on the fence to dry. She went all the way down the hill to say hi to some horses that where turned out in the arena.
“If I had not seen it with my own eyes I would never have believed it,” Sam said when recounting the story to me that cold California morning when I first met Saphie. “And after that day she would come and go at will. Just like that.”

I only met Saphie for a short time that year, but despite our short contact, I could not forget her, I could not forget her story. Hearing about Sam’s experiences with the mare had changed my perception of freedom. When we choose to cage an animal, we choose to take something valuable from them - for life. Setting them physically free will not guarantee setting free their spirit, for sometimes it is not just the bars that hold the caged animal inside. There is so much more to freedom than our environment and circumstances. Freedom is a state of mind.

The next time I met Saphie, Sam had moved her to his own property, where she lived outside with another horse. There was no more “natural horsemanship” i.e. moving her around in various ways. Instead, there was an increasing amount of time spent being together, doing nothing but sharing territory. Saphie seemed to me a completely different animal than the fearful, traumatized mare from the previous winter. Sam, too, had changed. The year before he had wondered why he had chosen to take in the “crazy” mare, and I had told him that he had it all wrong, it had been Saphie who had chosen him. She had seen his potential. Even in the midst of her own painful life, she had been able to recognize a kindred spirit, a person who could evolve to understand.

It never ceases to amaze me how generous and forgiving horses are. I believe I have said this before and I will not stop saying it: horses are the most forgiving creatures on earth. Take a horse like Saphie who had no reason to trust ever again; humans had only proven to take, never to give. Yet she chose to trust again. I am utterly speechless in front of such grace of character. Do horses innately understand that the only way to move into the future is to forgive the past? Are they all born to be wounded healers?

Recently I got an email from my friend Sam. Sapphire, the little gray mare, died a few weeks ago. According to Sam, she left our world in a true Saphie nature, suddenly and without a fuss. In his email Sam wrote: “I found great solace in that she was my first true teacher and that she was generous enough to show me a side of horses I did not know even existed before her. If you asked her she would probably have said I was a tough nut to crack but that I think he is starting to get some of it. I have walked a little way along the path with him and now it is time to move on.”

Saphie spent her last summer with Sam making many human friends, one of which was a six-year-old girl called Rosemary. Rosemary would invite Saphie out of her pen with a look and a call of her name. They companion walked (no tack) over to a flat area where Rosemary would spend time grooming while Saphie had a pre-practice snack. After this they headed off to the arena at liberty to see what would evolve. Some days they would run and trot together, others they would just lay in the sand. If it felt mutually right, Rosemary would slip a cordillo or a rope halter on Saphie and using body language ask her to come and stand at the mounting block. Rosemary would then clamber on bareback and the two would play for a short while until one would let the other know they wanted to do something else.

This, I believe, in Saphie’s world was called freedom.

In the Path of the Horse movie Linda Kohanov says: “They’ve carried us around on their backs for centuries waiting for us to notice that they aren’t here just to help us evolve in terms of mastering nature and moving around the planet. They are actually waiting for us to get to the point where we are ready to evolve to a higher level of consciousness and awareness.”

The little gray mare came into Sam’s life when he needed a teacher. I met her just in passing, but yet her wisdom followed me across the world. She reminded me that every horse has wisdom to share, but especially the wounded ones; those horses that have seen the dark side of man. This is an important message to pass on to anyone who dares listen and so, by telling Sapphire’s story, I am passing it to you. It is a message of friendship, love, freedom and forgiveness – it is a message of hope and healing.

~K

Photos by Julie Mummerlyn for Discovering Horses

Safely Afraid

2010-11-08T13:14:00.000-08:00

“A cat bitten once by a snake dreads even rope.” ~Arab Proverb

Tonight when I drove to the barn the sun was just setting behind the mountains. Little Love had been outside in the morning and I was planning to spend the evening hanging out with her in the arena, working on some collection at liberty. But when I got to the barn, the arenas were occupied with riders who were busy jumping and longing and practicing dressage tests.

“What should we do?” I asked Little Love while helping her with her daily stretches, a ritual she loves to do.

Little Love stuck her nose out of her stall window and sniffed the cold air, looking into the horizon, the way she always does when she wants to get away.

“Let’s go out,” she said. “On the trails.”

I looked out. Dusk was settling over the landscape and in just over a half an hour it would be completely dark. Many people from our barn ride in the dark, going for walks in the field with mere moonlight as their guide or wearing headlamps for better visibility. Little Love and I were not one of those people. Not until now. I ran to the tack room, picked up the saddle and bridle. I felt a nervous tingle at the pit of my stomach, but I told myself to trust Little Love. She wouldn’t suggest something as crazy as a ride in the darkening forest unless she knew we could handle it.

When Little Love and I met four years ago, she was one of the most fearful horses I had ever dealt with. Every time I rode her in any of the arenas she would bolt from the slightest stimulus; a crack of a branch, the sound of the wind whistling through the roof beams, a bird flying overhead, a stone bouncing off her own hoof, another horse snorting. Everything and anything could set her off and she would run from underneath her rider in a crazed panic. She would race to the gate or the door in terror, her heart pounding in her chest and her focus lost. And not only that; once she was frightened, it was impossible to calm her down; it was as if fear itself was her nemesis, eating away at her very soul.

Riding on trails was not much better. In fact, if you attempted to ride alone, it resulted in disaster. A leaf falling from its tree, a sudden gush of wind, a dog romping in the field a hundred yards away; all this could ignite a fleeing reflex. Within seconds Little Love would rear, turn around and head home at ever increasing speed.

Riding with other people was helpful, but not easy. In the arena Little Love would refuse to turn, trying to follow the other horses. On trails she would crowd her trail partner and jig nervously on his or her tail until the usually calm horse was also in a state of flux. Needless to say we weren’t very popular.

Before long I was at my wits end trying to help this horse find some kind of peace. I wanted to show her the world was not such a scary place. After struggling for months, I discovered the bitless bridle. It was a breakthrough. Or perhaps it would be best described as a flicker of light at the end of the tunnel. Suddenly Little Love, who would never ever willingly go to the far end of the indoor arena, would agree to passing by the back door. Granted, she was still on her toes, but there was a slight shift in her behavior.

Encouraged by the positive results of the new bridle, I started to experiment. I rode with no rein contact whatsoever. I took Little Love’s tack off at the “scary” end of the arena and let her loose. At first she would run away as fast as she could, but soon would start to linger and investigate. I would bring her into the arena in a halter and walk her around or longe her. If she bolted while haltered, I would simply let her go. Soon I abandoned all tack, letting her loose at the door to give her freedom to choose. I even tried riding with just a rope around her neck.

This all resulted in another shift in her behavior. She was still frightful, but rather than going completely out of her mind with fear, she would run for a short while and then slow down and stop, as if surprised by the outcome.

In the past, Little Love had been physically punished for spooking; the previous trainer had for years forced her deep and low with draw reins and harsh bits, she had kicked her with spurs, hit her with the whip in attempt to teach her to stop fleeing from scary things. She had also advised Little Love’s owner to behave this way.

It took me a while, but I finally realized something profound; Little Love’s biggest fear was not of the external stimulus, the imagined beast she thought would jump on her or the scary unknown creature possibly lurking in the shadows. What was far worse than anything else she could imagine was the forceful pain that for years had followed her “fright”.

She was afraid of being afraid. In other words, she was afraid of the state of fear itself, because in her mind fear equaled pain. It was almost like a mathematical equation, always true, never changing. In fact, the fear of pain was so etched into her nervous system that even when there no longer was pain, the fear of pain still lived strong in her mind. She couldn’t shake it away.

This in mind I took a whole new approach to the situation. The more Little Love was afraid, the less I tried to control her. This meant that when I rode her in the dreaded indoor arena and there was a loud noise at the far end of the arena, I threw the reins on Little Love’s neck and grabbed her mane, giving her free will to bolt off (obviously I had to ride alone). At first, she would run like always, but soon took off only to stop a few strides later. Once she stopped and turned her head so that I could see the white of her left eye. As she looked at me in surprise, I swore she saw me for the very first time for who I was: not her enemy, but someone who wanted to be on her side.

I also spent hours with her in the arena, observing her in liberty. It didn’t take long for her to understand the control she had when there were no humans aboard. Soon she was strolling down to the far end and rolling, as if there never had been a thing to fear down there. I was astounded.

It was obvious that the less tack Little Love had on her head to ensure human control and the further away the humans were, the less fearful she was. The amount of human contact was directly connected to the amount of fear she experienced.

This observation was sobering. I realized that deep down Little Love was more confident than I had ever imagined, but humans, in their attempts to control her, had somehow managed to create this terrified animal. Perhaps in the beginning, as a young horse, she had merely been alert, but after being punished for this trait she had developed what I now called “the fear syndrome”. Many horses get punished for fearful, insecure behavior and a good percent of them have known to go into a state of learned helplessness to protect themselves from the pain. Of course this is exactly what most humans are looking for; a dull, desensitized animal who will not budge even if a bomb exploded next to them. But Little Love was not one of those horses. Instead she had created her own way of dissociating from a scary situation: running away.

I felt relieved to have found an answer, but completely overwhelmed with my findings. Matters were not made easier by another observation, which was that Little Love really wanted nothing to do with me (or any other human for that matter) if she had a choice. When I let her loose in the arena, she would move to the other side and turn her bottom at me. By default. The only way I could get her attention was with food, but there was no real trust there. Without food, I was nothing. And who could blame her?

Today I am filled with wonder for my friend who has come such a long way from those days of complete and utter panic. Or is it I who has come a long way? This change did not happen overnight. It is the result of a plethora of things: Hours of liberty work and spending time with Little Love doing nothing; long walks in the fields; letting go of my own ideals and goals, letting go of traditional methods and understanding the true meaning of freedom, letting Little Love have choices, opinions, emotions; educating her owner, and making sure Little Love gets out of her stall as much as possible even if it means standing with her in the pasture in pouring rain to keep her company when all the other horses are kept in. The list goes on.

The horse I met four years ago is still there, but there is also another horse present, a strong and opinionated and bold animal who may always remain cautious, but who is also so intelligent, so amazingly perceptive and calm. Only when I read back on my blog do I realize how far we have come. I wish I had started writing about my experiences years earlier, to truly see the miles that have been traveled.

Little Love can now be ridden into the far end of the indoor arena without a problem, but it no longer matters to me, for I no longer ride her in the arena. I spend more time with her on the ground than anywhere else. When we ride, we ride trails and tonight we are doing it in the dark.

We take off on our trail ride in the setting sun. Little Love is alert, curious. I walk her in hand for the first ten minutes. She stops once and stands very still. I ask her if she wants to go back, if the falling darkness is too much for her to bear, but she decides to continue walking. Finally, I climb on her back so we can do a short trot. She trots calmly, but with her head up and eyes scanning the dark fields. I don’t touch the rein and keep my legs off her sides. She looks to the left and registers the cows in the field; she looks right at the pile of wood that looks different in the shadows of the approaching night. We walk and I get off to walk with her. She is alert, she is alive, she is brave. I get on again, we canter and do some more trot. She wants to trot more than usual and I let her. Her eyes are on sticks when we pass the small, abandoned cottage with dark, ominous windows. We turn right at the fork and head home. The streetlights reach us half way down the last field. I get off to walk again, Little Love is now relaxed. It is almost pitch dark when we get back to the barn, but we stop to graze for a moment, feeling safe in the all-enveloping darkness.

Fear no longer equals pain and this has made all the difference in Little Love’s life. Through several trials and errors she now knows that she can be what I call safely afraid. We still run into unexpected situations, but so far our mutual trust has helped us conquer even the scariest events (like ten black and white calves with bells around their necks running after us or trailriding in the dark!) Fear is no longer a disaster, an abyss from which there is no return.

I can’t tell you how much I have learned about the pathology of fear in the past few years. Fear must never be overlooked or belittled, neither in humans nor in animals. Who knew that one fearful horse could teach one person so much about life; empathy, patience, perseverance, faith, love – and change? And it’s far from over; my education continues. And while I am liberating myself from my past, I hope Little Love continues to liberate herself from hers.

~K

“We see our horses as frightened animals prone to flight, but often it is we humans who have laid the foundation for this behavior by the totally unnatural way we keep and interact with them. Could it be that the loss of their own world has made our horses so easily startled and fearful?” - Imke Spilker in Empowered Horses

I touch the subject of fear in some of my previous blogs as well, if interested please visit “Bombproof” from Oct.4, “Letting go” from Dec 28, 2009 and “Prince of Fear” from Aug 21, 2009

Finding Freedom

2010-11-01T12:55:00.000-07:00

“Freedom for horses begins in us.” - Imke Spilker in Empowered Horses

One day, after spending the good part of the afternoon outside with Little Love, it was time to take her back into the barn. Before this, however, I wanted to tend to a minor cut she had on her back leg. We walked over to the grooming area, but it was occupied by a gelding. I asked the owner, a lady in her sixties, if it was alright to park next to her at the wash area just for a few moments.

“No problem,” she agreed.

Little Love, however, didn’t. She had her mind set on going into her stall. She stopped and gave me the one look I recognize as “I know what you are up to and I want nothing to do with it.” I stopped, releasing any pressure she had created on the lead rope. The lady asked me if I needed help.

“Thank you,” I said, “but I think Little Love and I can work this out.”

The woman nodded and continued brushing her horse, making long strokes down his back.

Lilo stood still, I stood still. One of the many stallions in the barn stuck his head out of his little window and called at us; Little Love is, after all, a mare. This made no difference to her; she was preoccupied telling me she didn’t want to be medicated. I, in turn, told her we really had to take care of the cut – just in case. She lowered her head and started chewing. “All right then,” she seemed to say and took a few steps towards the wash area, her feet already touching the cement ground. The stallion called out the window a second time, then tossed his head.

That was when things started to happen. The lady’s husband came out of the barn, cussing and swearing. He slammed the stallions window shut so hard the horse barely had time to get his head out of the way. In an instant Little Love jerked her head up with the whites of her eyes flashing. She started backing up, as if I was suddenly asking her to go into a fire hole. The man stalked over and smacked her hard on the behind with his hand.

“You women folk don’t know how to control your horses, get the mare out of here!” He yelled.

Little Love yanked on the rope, she was remembering all the times she had been beaten into the trailer, forced into small spaces. She was no longer with me, but somewhere else, the place she has spent most her life in.

“Honey, stop,” the lady tried to say to her husband, but he wouldn’t hear a word of it. I was too shocked to say anything.

The man proceeded to yell at me and tell me that I didn’t know how to control my horse and that he was going to get the whip to show me how to do it.

The whip?

He marched off, muttering to himself and now that he was no longer behind Little Love, she relaxed a fraction. I took a deep breath and called after the man. When he stopped and glared at me, I said (as calmly as I could muster with my best French):

“There is no need for the whip. I don’t want to force Little Love into anything. I was just giving her time to think about what I was asking for.”

“asking? That is just insane!” The man yelled at me from the barn door. “Didn’t you see the stallion was going out of control?”

I took one look at his beat red face and decided not to point out that the stallion had merely neighed, something he did every time a mare walked by.

“You know what, I think I’ll just take Little Love to her stall,” I said. Sometimes it’s just not worth the energy to argue.

“Oh, go ahead. Teach your horse that she’s the boss,” the man said and stalked off, obviously disgusted with my horsemanship skills.

Control is a central issue when handling horses. Even children are taught that control is essential; the better you are able to make the horse do what you want, the better a rider you are. Ultimate control also means ultimate safety. For many people, such as the man in this story, the thought of losing control of a horse is absolutely horrifying. Every sign of unrestrained behavior (like a neighing stallion) needs to be tended to before it becomes a disaster.

But what kind of a life is this for a horse? Every step, every sound, sometimes even every turn of the head, is monitored, watched, punished, controlled?

And how does this need to control and dominate make us feel?

I believe one of the reasons humans are drawn to horses is our inherent need to find freedom. Horses are powerful, and because of their power, they are beautiful. We want to be like horses. In our current society, where we have lost touch with the old wisdom we used to possess, we seek to feel whole again. How ironic that in search of our own freedom we take it away from another being. Does this truly give us the freedom we seek or are we, too, involuntarily slaves to our own desire to control? We want to be connected to something wild, something that will take us back to those days humans were in harmony with nature, but how can we ever become close to these animals, if we are constantly thinking of ways to dominate them?

I have spent a lot of time dwelling over my own journey from the person in control to the person who has given up her power. Where did it all start? I didn’t truly realize the process I had gone through until I read Imke Spilker’s book Empowered Horses. She writes: “The person who understands that he, as a human being, has all the power and that there is none left for the horse, has reached a turning point in his relationship to the animal. He suddenly feels very different needs and desires with respect to these creatures. He begins to pull himself back a bit and gives the horses more space. He begins to adapt himself to them and learn about them. And he starts to become open to their completely different point of view and in doing so, he gives their world a new reality.” (p.24)

I realize now that to do things differently, I had to reach my personal turning point. This was not one single moment, but rather a period in time when I had power, but this power left me feeling frustrated and incomplete. This was not who I wanted to be. I would guess that most of us don’t want to be a dominating person, if given the choice. Deep down we all know that true connection with horses (or with anyone for that matter) will never be achieved through domination, pressure and control.

The only way to truly receive something is by first giving it up. By letting go of the position of control, I have given Little Love’s world a new reality. Little Love now has space to express herself, to be who she is; a horse with a big heart and big opinions. Sure, sometimes I don’t like what she has to say, but that is something I have to learn to accept – we cannot always agree, but we can and we must always continue to listen to each other.

Ironically this “loss of control” on my part has not lead to disaster, but rather it has lead to power and peace – power and peace within Little Love, but within me as well. This is a far cry from the power and peace horses once had before humans decided to take their lives over. Little Love, like any domestic horse, doesn’t have a lot of space in the all-encompassing world of humans, but she makes do with what she has. The world horses lived in for millions of years before man may no longer exist; that kind of freedom is gone. But, no matter how much breeding and domesticating we do, this lost world still lives in the hearts and spirits of all horses.

So, the question we all have to ask ourselves is: Am I going to allow this inner world of freedom to exist?

May the horse be with you,
~K
There are two freedoms - the false, where a man is free to do what he likes; the true, where he is free to do what he ought. ~Charles Kingsley

Pregnant?

2010-10-24T07:37:00.000-07:00

“All truth passes through three stages. First, it is ridiculed. Second, it is violently opposed. Third, it is accepted as being self-evident.” - Arthur Schopenhauer

One day, while I was surfing the internet looking for information, I ran across the above image. It is a thermographic image of a horse’s feet. What is peculiar about this horse is that while three of its feet are barefoot, one has a shoe.

The picture is originally from Dr. Strasser’s “The Hoof Care Specialist’s Handbook” Section III -20 with the following caption: Thermographic Image of the legs of a horse shod only on the front right: darker colors indicate colder areas. Circulation in the front right is severely disrupted (*thank you Claudia for researching this for me!)

I find this picture quite powerful. It is amazing how one picture can drive a point across within a fraction of a second. Of course, I am already convinced all horses should be barefoot so the effect is sort of lost on me, it’s like preaching to the choir. But when I showed it to someone who thinks taking the shoes off a horse is like asking humans to start breathing under water, the person flipped out.

“That can’t be real,” she said.

“Why not?” I asked

“It just can’t be. I know my horse has circulation in his legs. That picture makes it look like there is no blood at all.”

“Of course there is some blood. This just shows that the circulation is impaired.” I was calm, but I could see the steam starting to build up in this woman’s head. I could see an impending explosion, but I decided to grab the bull by its horns, nevertheless.

“Imagine what that does to the hoof. Reduced blood circulation means reduced nerve function. Reduced nerve function means – “

“That makes no sense,” the woman interrupted me. “Why would we put shoes on horses if it would be that harmful?”

Why indeed?

Our discussion went on for another three minutes but it didn’t exactly lead anywhere apart from the lady getting very, very hostile towards me. I admit, I did set her up by showing her the picture in the first place followed with my remarks, which – no matter how much I tried to tone them down – made me sound like a “know-it-all”. I believe the last thing I said was: “That’s why the hooves are so cool when a horse has shoes, there’s no circulation. You know, barefoot horses have warm hooves.” The next thing I knew I was looking at her back walking away from me.

That didn’t go too well. And I had so much more to say.

A year and a half ago I attended a weekend course with a French horseman called Donald Newe. He, too, believes in barefoot horses and a non-traditional approach to horses where the use of force and dominance are unnecessary. Although I was definitely able to absorb his teachings, others in the course were not. Donald Newe, who is neither diplomatic nor subtle about delivering his message, commented on that fact by saying that for the information to hit home, the person must already be “pregnant” with it. In this respect he did not call himself a teacher, but rather a midwife who delivers the baby.

What Donald Newe says appears to be true. Sometimes people are just not ready to take in the information, no matter how convincing the facts are (i.e. they are not pregnant). Sometimes people feel downright threatened by the information (i.e. they don’t want to be pregnant).

The subject of barefoot horses seems to be one to raise blood pressures. Just a little over a month ago a friend of mine, who at the time was still boarding at the next door stable, took the shoes off her young Hannoverian gelding. My friend asked me to put her horse out in the paddock in the afternoon so he could get as much movement as possible. Movement is crucial for all horses, but especially a horse that has just become a barefoot horse.

When I arrived at the barn, the horse was waiting at the stall door, ready to get out. In fact, when he saw me, he started kicking his door as if to make his point clear. I found his eagerness a bit strange as he had surely been outside in the pasture in the morning, like all horses in the barn. I haltered him and walked him outside. He was walking very well for having just been de-shod the day before, perhaps a little tenderly with his fronts over a few stones on the ground, but that was to be expected. He could, after all, feel the ground under his feet for the first time in years.

The moment I popped out of the barn, the barn worker, a man in his thirties, stopped the tractor he had been driving and waved at me from across the property. He was yelling something to me in French, but because it was a bit windy, I couldn’t catch a word of what he was saying. I put my hand to my ear, to communicate to him that I couldn’t hear and continued walking the horse down the paved street towards the paddock some 70 years away. When I saw the barn worker jump off his tractor and run towards me flailing his arms, I stopped. Was something wrong?

The man ran towards me, his face beat red. All the while he was yelling at me. My French is fairly good, but perhaps because of his emotional state, the man had reverted to his native dialect, which is barely comprehendible even to a native French speaker. But I did understand enough to realize what this was about.

“Where do you think you are going with that horse?... Are you crazy?... that horse has no shoes and should stay in stall… you are abusing this horse… he is in pain… people like you don’t care about animals…”

By the time the man got to me and the horse, he was shaking with anger. I tried to get a word in.

“Yes, I know he has no shoes. That is why I am taking him out, so he can move and get his blood circulating. The last thing he should be doing is standing in a stall.” I wasn’t sure any of this registered with the man.

“It is animal abuse to take the shoes off,” the man screamed. “He needs to stay in his stall!”

I see. I guess it was pointless asking him if the horse had been out in the pasture that morning. I tried to ignore the man and lead the horse to the paddock, but he blocked my way.

“If you move that horse another foot, I will call the SPA and make sure you will be prosecuted for animal abuse!” He took a threatening step towards me.

Excuse me? I stared at the man, someone I had known for the past five years as a calm and quiet individual. Again I tried to explain why the horse’s owner had taken the shoes off, how at first this might feel uncomfortable for the horse when the blood started to circulate again, but how with movement and proper care, he would get through this initial stage and live a healthier life. The man would not hear a word of it. The more I said, the more aggressive he became. Spit flew out of his mouth as he shouted at me, flailing his arms in front of my face. I can’t tell you everything he said, but the word stupid occurred in his speech several times.

It didn’t seem like this man was about to calm down and it crossed my mind that he might actually physically attack me, if I didn’t back off. Finally, with my hands shaking, I turned around and walked the horse back into the barn, hoping this would relieve the situation. It didn’t. The man followed me into the barn and even after I had put the horse in his stall, kept verbally attacking me. Finally I got in my car and drove home, as I realized that he would not leave me alone unless I left the property.

At home I tried to understand what had happened, but I couldn’t wrap my brain around it. I had heard of similar confrontations from other people who had “gone barefoot”, but this was the first time I had been on the receiving end of such anger and hostility. What was it about taking the shoes off ones horse that so threatened people? Had I taken a whip to the horse in the name of training (as many do at this barn), the barn employee wouldn’t have batted an eye, but because the horse was shoeless, he had a meltdown. Where was the logic in this? Why was it alright to hit a horse, but not return it to the state in which it was born?

Obviously the horse’s owner, a young girl, was shocked, too, when she heard. She talked to the barn owner, who also didn’t agree with taking the shoes off (he made his point clear), but had the sense to realize that his employee was a bit out of line. The next day, after being stall bound for 48 hours, the horse was allowed to go outside in the pasture. The horse owner, however, did have to listen to sneer remarks made by other horse owners and the employee, but she held her head high and stuck with her decision to go barefoot despite the majority vote against her. She has since moved to another barn, where her horse now is part of a herd of horses living outside.

I am no longer pregnant as the baby has been born long time ago. This is great, but I’m not going to lie; there are days when the weight of my newly found knowledge drags my usually optimistic mood down. I spent thirty years not seeing, not even knowing there was something to see, but now that I can see, I am aching to share this knowledge. However, I like to keep a low profile while I operate at a barn where I stick out like a sore thumb. Showing the above picture was definitely not something I usually do, it was more like a bold experiment. In an environment where even your benign actions (like walking a barefoot horse to a paddock) speak volumes, words (or in this case, pictures) can cause a war of resistance. I try hard to understand these people, because I, too, once did not know any better. But sometimes I am at a loss with the amount of anger and aggression people possess.

I realize this is another lesson for me in patience. I am convinced that science and research will eventually catch up with veterinarians and farriers and horse owners. Once people see pictures like the one above and really absorb the information it is giving them; once people start thinking for themselves (and their horses) and actively searching for solutions, things will start to change with an ever increasing pace. But it will take time. In the meanwhile, I will watch life unfold and hope for a better future some day, a future with lots of “pregnant” people, a future where allowing your horse to return to its natural state, hooves and all, will be the norm, not the cause of an attack.

~K

“Barefoot is for all horses, though it may not be for all horse owners.” - D.E Hufford

For those who are interested, the internet is full of information about the barefoot movement. Here is a link to one of many pages that explains why and how it will benefit your horse to take the shoes off: http://www.hoofnexus.com/Whybarefoot.htm

If you are on the fence about taking the shoes off, seek more information, educate yourself. Go to www.equinesoundness.com for online courses. Your horse will thank you for your effort.

Also, to find more about Donald Newe, go to www.equinebehaviour.com

Reflex

2010-10-17T11:38:00.000-07:00

Force is all-conquering, but its victories are short-lived. ~Abraham Lincoln

I want to share four different episodes I witnessed this week. I'm not going to dwell too much into my personal emotions nor my reactions to these four episodes, I simply want you to read and give space to any feelings and thoughts that might arise.

1

I’m walking to my car after teaching a few lessons at a nearby barn and I run into an old student of mine. Delighted to see me, she stops in her tracks and gets into a lengthy explanation of her newest purchase, a three year old gelding. During our chitchat her five year old stallion stands patiently on the end of his lead rope, waiting for her to finish. The horse is black and absolutely beautiful, but what strikes me the most are his manners; he does not move a hair during our conversation. It isn’t until the very end, when his owner is proudly explaining the merits of one of her horses that the stallion turns his head to look at something in the distance. The gesture is barely noticeable, harmless and natural, but instantly and without interruption the owner lifts her left hand and strikes the horse across the face with the end of the lead rope. Her eyes never leave mine, nor does the flow of her speech stop; it is as if she has merely swatted a fly buzzing around her head. But for her horse this means more than she can comprehend. He is now irritated, shaken. He takes a few steps to the side, to get away from his unpredictable owner. She, in turn, hits him across the chest with the lead rope. This time she turns her eyes away from mine.

2

It is an exceptionally warm autumn afternoon and Little Love and I have ventured off into the fields. When we turn a corner and arrive at a fork in the dirt road, I see a woman on a horse in the middle of the field. The horse stands stock still with a stubborn expression on her face. Her head is held high, her eyes are sullen with resistance. When the rider, a middle aged woman, sees me appear from behind a small hill, she immediately, as if on cue, starts kicking the horse and slapping it with a short riding crop.

Little Love and I stroll over and stop. I don’t know this particular horse, it is from another barn in the neighborhood nor do I know the rider.

“Do you need help?” I say. “We are going this way,” I point towards the forest, “and you can ride with us if you like.”

The woman looks relieved. “Yes, thanks,” she says and directs her horse back to the road. We continue our trail ride side by side. But it isn’t long that her horse stops again. Instantly and without a moment’s hesitation the woman becomes aggressive, yelling and shouting at her (also) black mare. She grabs the reins in one hand and starts smacking the horse across the rump with the crop. The horse backs up tossing her head in the air, her ears pinned against her neck.

Little Love has stopped, too. She turns her head and looks at this spectacle with her eyes blinking. I wonder if she is thinking what I’m thinking. She is witnessing her previous life before her eyes. I gently ask her to walk forward, and she does. Again this helps the other horse and for a moment it follows obediently. Until it stops again.

Now Little Love decides that the mare’s behavior is highly suspicious. She, too, doesn’t want to move. The woman has thrown herself into a fit again, now kicking her horse with both legs as hard as she can. The horse’s ribcage echoes with every thump, but the effect is everything but what the rider wants.

I don’t know this person, we have just met, but we are now in the same boat; my horse won’t move either. I climb down and take the reins off Little Love’s neck.

“Let me walk ahead. My horse will follow, if I’m on the ground,” I say. Anything to get this woman from attacking her horse.

For a split second the woman stops kicking. She looks at me.

"Yeah, I used to do that too, my horse follows me anywhere if I walk it in hand. But I don't want her to get into the habit of me always coming down. It's not such a good option,” she says and kicks her horse again, as if to make a point.

3

Little Love and I come back from a long walk in the fields, she is in a halter and I’m walking her in hand. We stop to graze by the outdoor arena where the grass is still lush and green. The barn owner’s wife, an avid dressage rider, is starting a ride with her five year old gelding. He is a big guy and normally very compliant and docile. But today he has noticed a difference in the arena sand, it has been leveled and new footing has been brought into the left back corner. The horse’s ears and eyes are alert and when his rider attempts to walk past the corner with long reins, the horse spins around, visibly freaked out by the different shades of sand below his feet. Instantly and without a moment’s of hesitation the rider lays into the horse with her four foot dressage whip. The horse responds with a buck and twirls around again, his mouth open from the pull on the bit. His rider nearly falls off and when she gets herself back into balance, she is furious. She screams at the horse:

“I will show you.” And she does. Over and over again with the four foot dressage whip.

4

I am walking across the barnyard when I see a woman brushing her horse outside. The horse, tied loosely to a grooming post, is standing calmly while the woman is working her way around its body with a rubber currycomb. When she gets to the chest, however, the horse pins its ears back and threatens the woman with a clear gesture of baring the teeth. The woman, seemingly oblivious to the horse’s message, continues to vigorously brush the chest with circular motions. The horse threatens again, this time also swooshing the tail and stomping the foot. When the groomer takes no notice the horse finally lashes out and bites the woman on the arm. Immediately, and without a moment’s hesitation, the woman hits the horse hard across the face with the brush.

……………………

Four different scenarios; four different people, but all are connected through similar episodes which could have taken a completely different turn, had the person been more patient, more aware of their horse’s body language and willing to ask, instead of demand. Is it right to judge these people for their reactions? How do you control or stop a reflex which is ingrained into the marrow of your spinal cord through training and tradition and fear and habit? How do you even begin to see such "horse training" for what it is - violence?

Which one of these stories made the biggest impact on you? Why? Can you imagine what happened afterwards? Can you see the relationship these people have with their horses? Can you picture what it’s like to have the need to control a horse’s every move, every emotion? Can you understand the fear these people feel? The anger?

Where does it all stem from? What does it take to change?

How can we help ourselves and other people learn a better way?

~K

There have been periods of history in which episodes of terrible violence occurred but for which the word violence was never used.... Violence is shrouded in justifying myths that lend it moral legitimacy, and these myths for the most part kept people from recognizing the violence for what it was. The people who burned witches at the stake never for one moment thought of their act as violence; rather they thought of it as an act of divinely mandated righteousness. The same can be said of most of the violence we humans have ever committed. ~Gil Bailie

Hanna's Story

2010-10-10T06:06:00.000-07:00

“To be a teacher in the right sense is to be a learner. I am not a teacher, only a fellow student.” -Sören Kierkegaard

Two years ago almost to the date, my head was spinning with questions. I had spent the summer riding in a bitless bridle, discovering intuitive animal communication and watching Klaus Hempfling’s videos on YouTube. The foundation of my equestrian knowledge was shaking and I wondered if what I was doing was the right thing to do. Lost on my search for the path I didn’t even know existed, I continued riding and teaching. But every time I gave advice, every time I gave a horse an aid, I wondered if it was correct. Perhaps there was more out there to be discovered, more knowledge and wisdom I had not yet unveiled.

Then I met Hanna. She was still a young girl, a high school student finishing her last year in school, and wanted to ride in lessons with her younger sister. I questioned her motives, as she seemed so nervous, so impatient and edgy when she sat on a horse. I wondered if perhaps she was merely joining as a favor to her sister, who was the more determined, traditional rider. Insecure on the surface, she questioned everything and anything I said or did, in a way nobody had before. And there was so much to question, as I had recently found out myself.

At first the two girls came to ride together, sharing the lease of Zorro, an older gelding. This horse was an experienced mount and hardly a horse you could call excitable, but he knew who was who, and behaved accordingly. The younger sister had the skill and energy needed and thus the gelding seemed cooperative, trotting and cantering around the arena dutifully, performing the requested moves obediently for the first half of the shared lesson. But for the second half of the hour, he turned into another horse. Sullen and unresponsive, he soon had Hanna, the older sister frustrated and irritable and who could blame her, the horse seemed to have something against her.

In hind sight, it is easy to see how Zorro manipulated the situation. Soon the two girls were riding separately. I did my best to guide both my students into the secrets of riding this particular horse and pressed forward in the traditional manner, focusing on teaching the correct riding biomechanics. This worked for the younger sister, but not for Hanna and Zorro. The horse had a whole other agenda, unknown at this point to any of us humans involved.

One thing lead to another and it wasn’t long before Hanna was riding the gelding in a bitless bridle and working him from the ground. Our riding lessons were no longer about riding, but rather about connecting and communicating with the horse. They were also about the emotions that are transferred back and forth between the animal and the human. Our conversations were extended past the hour lesson twice a month and I found myself discussing issues over the email. How did I get onto this path with this particular student? I don’t know. Perhaps it was the hundreds upon hundreds of questions Hanna asked every time we met. Or was it Zorro, who pushed us both to seek alternative ways of interacting with him. He certainly had a way of pushing Hanna’s buttons…

Six months after we had started our lessons, Hanna wrote “I have found myself very frustrated on a horse, several times, because I feel I don’t understand it...I could never truly hit a horse, but the frustration over feeling superior to a horse has been there, many times. and then the anger and just blocking of mind when things don’t work out. I just didn’t know, like so many other riders, the true way of dealing with it. How riding in itself could be a whole philosophy and so much more than just a hobby.”

We continued our lessons, meeting only twice a month, but in the meanwhile this intelligent girl embarked on a journey of her own. Slowly I started to realize that Zorro, the wise gelding, was showing her the way. After working more and more with the horse on the ground Hanna wrote:

“ever since I learned about the ground exercises I feel much more secure around him, and I feel happier when I ride because it's like we get along...When he listens to me and he "respects" my space, I feel more comfortable and a lot happier when I ride. Doing the ground work has helped me so much to regain control...I'm not scared and stressed so much when I'm around him anymore, which I think is such a relief for both of us.”

We talked a lot about being the leader for the horse, something I firmly believed in back then, but a concept that I continue to question and perhaps to abandon. Hanna, however, was light years ahead of me, already wondering if there, in fact, was another way to be with these majestic animals than dominating them. In the spring she wrote: “I try as much as I can to always show him that I'm his leader, and it's so fascinating how he actually reads my body language and understands me in that way. The only problem for me now is that since I'm not used to this, I feel like such a dictator. I feel like I just boss him around, and whenever he does something he's not supposed to - he's punished… I don't overdo the punishment and I feel like I'm being fair to him. Yet I always imagined the horse to come to you - trusting you and being your friend if you were his. Just like in real life...I would never become best friends with someone who told me off for anything I did which didn't suit her/him. I would much rather become friends with someone who accepts me for who I am and gives me some space when I need it.”

After a particularly eventful trail ride, Hanna wrote me in distress: “...was it wrong of me to force him on that walk, although i noticed that he didn't want to go? If i had been more convincing, do you think he would have been more willing to come with me? I try to listen to what he's saying but maybe sometimes I listen too hard and I hear things that aren't real. When he notices my hesitation he then takes his chance to show that he'd rather be back at the barn...how can I know? How do you know when you're forcing an animal to do something? The line between forcing an animal and doing what you think is best for it, is such a fine line.”

And Hanna was right, it is such a fine line. How do you be with a horse without the power struggle? How do you gain respect without being “bossy”? When it came to understanding horses, Hanna was a natural, but she struggled only because Zorro had decided she needed to grow, to evolve. Horses have an amazing ability to know who we really are, they can see our potential long before we even have a clue, and Zorro was no different. Hanna had to find the confidence to believe in herself before she could befriend this gelding. It seemed that every time she pushed him, he shut down, but then when she tried to comply to his ideas, the horse ran over her.

Hanna and I spent a lot of time talking about emotions. What kind of emotions are involved when we are with horses? Can we stay authentic, instead of “forcing” it? Hanna was definitely closer to cracking this mystery when she made an absolutely brilliant observation: “I wish that one day everything I do with horses will be "real" and not just "mechanical" or fake, like I feel sometimes. It's like I want to make a connection so badly that I try too hard and that's when I miss the signs of the true emotions the horse is sending me...”

We all fall into the trap of trying too hard. Horses don’t have goals and aspirations like we do. They live in the moment; they let their emotions take them where ever they lead them. Unlike us humans who bottle everything in, horses move to their emotions. Movement is emotion, emotions are movement. Everything is real, nothing is forced or planned. To truly connect, you have to be able to let go of the human ambitions and improvise, let your feelings take you for a ride.

Soon after Hanna started to make connections between how she operated in life and the emotional patterns that surfaced when she was with Zorro. I am a firm believer that the way we do one thing, is the way we do everything, and Hanna certainly proved me right in that respect. Frustrated with her discoveries, she vowed to change, because within those emotional patterns she discovered an insecure girl she didn’t want to be. Zorro had brought her to the final threshold, the place where you look at yourself and ask: “Who am I – really?”

So many emotional encounters later, so many hours of butting heads with a very stubborn gelding, countless afternoons discovering a horse discovering her, Hanna wrote:

“A few days ago I went to Zorro and we spent some time outside in his pasture. After about half an hour of me just kind of standing there, walking around, and trying to just be there, he walked over to me. He followed me for a few steps only, and then turned away to do his own thing. But those few seconds when I actually felt like we had a short moment of ‘connection’ were amazing. Yesterday I did the same thing and I found that it didn’t take long before we could go exploring different areas of the pasture together. We hung out, he was eating and I was just sort of there with him. We then went inside. I have never felt so close to him as I did during that hour in the pasture.”

The rest is history. Hanna and Zorro connected over time like only a horse and human can connect. Hanna spent hours just sitting with this horse, reading her book, thinking, day dreaming, watching her friend graze. And he gave her the support she needed, he allowed her to discover who she really was and wanted to be.

As a teacher, I am always in awe of my students, who -with just a gentle push from my part- suddenly take to flight with strong, powerful wings. How I love to watch them fly, to discover new, uncharted territories. And although I call myself their teacher, in reality I, too, have learned more than I have taught because teaching and learning are just two different sides of the same coin. To be a good teacher is to commit yourself to lifelong learning. I have not yet met a student, who has not taught me at least one valuable lesson.

I could tell you so much more about amazing Hanna, but I will leave that for another time. We came together, Hanna, Zorro and I, as student, horse and teacher, but in the end our initial roles were reversed so many times, the lines of learning and teaching fused and faded. I will always remember Hanna’s courage and her relentless search for answers, even for the ones she knew would be painful to discover. She taught me that it is possible to go down the Path with fast and furious strides, if you discard all resistance and allow your mind to remain open.

Hanna gave me hope for the future; the future of our planet, our horses and us. She is so very young, but already so wise, although she perhaps does not yet comprehend the true extent of her wisdom. It will be people like her - people who are willing to follow the unbeaten path with reckless abandonment - who will eventually change this world to a better place.
~K

Ps. Hanna is now studying in another country and Zorro has retired in the Swiss mountains with a herd of horses. Perhaps they will meet again one day. But, in the meanwhile, they will remain connected through the energy of the universe.

“When the student is ready, the teacher will appear.” - Buddhist proverb
“When the teacher is ready, the student will appear.” - Katariina’s answer to the Buddhist proverb

Bombproof

2010-10-04T03:47:00.000-07:00

“We don’t receive wisdom; we must discover it for ourselves after a journey that no one can take for us or spare us” - Marcel Proust

I recently witnessed a fairly experienced dressage rider deal with her new young horse, a lively animal to say the least. Despite the rider’s top-level skills, she was continuously running into problems with her new dressage hopeful. I have to admit, he was full of fire. He was also full of resistance and opinions. He had his own ideas about having his head down and complying with the dressage ideals. Finally, after he bucked his rider off one last time, she gave up.

“I sent him to Trainer X for some training,” she said. “The horse just has too much energy for me. He needs to be straightened out.” The horse community around her agreed, empathetically. They would have done the same thing.

“He’s such a great mover, too bad he is such a nut case,” they said and nodded their understanding heads.

The horse was gone for quite a while, almost a year. That’s how long it took to break his spirit and “straighten him out.” But finally, the work was done and the unruliness was gone. He showed successfully with Trainer X and was ready to return to his owner.

“Finally he has seen the light,” people commented. “What a beautiful dressage horse he is now.”

I watched the horse trot and barely recognized him, so stilted and dead his movement had become, so vacant his eyes, so sad the expression on his face. The fiery horse was gone and a shell had returned. But nobody noticed, because he was collecting ribbons at shows, he was performing at the top of his classes – he was obedient, like a good horse should be.

And this is what many human beings desire: a horse that does what they want, no questions asked. And they want that horse now, or preferably yesterday, no time wasted.

A compliant, good-natured horse is valuable. “He’s bombproof” is one of the greatest compliments you can give a horse. And it’s understandable, people simply want to ride and they want to enjoy the ride while they’re at it. They want to look like they are in control. An unruly, misbehaving animal is a direct reflection of their own riding skills. Not to mention time consuming and scary.

And there are people who will do what is necessary to produce this good-natured animal. They purchase a stronger bit or ride with drawreins. They switch trainers or better yet; send their horse to the trainer for some extra mileage under saddle. They lunge the animal to pieces before they get on to ride. They punish the horse for any bad behavior. I have seen a person whip their horse in the stall because he turned his head to look at her.

There are not many options for horses that are forced into “goodness”. Some fight back, but eventually most fall into different states of learned helplessness. This is a condition where the animal, even when there is an opportunity to avoid an unpleasant circumstance, behaves helplessly. This is a result of a perceived absence of control over the outcome of the situation. Learned helplessness is a brain’s last-resort coping mechanism against painful or fearful situations. In other words, when a horse feels he has no other option, or other options have been exhausted, he turns to learned helplessness. Soon the horse sort of loses his true self and becomes a machine-like mount. Life is easier that way, not only for the horse, but for the human, too. It seems like she has finally managed to produce the bombproof horse.

Not long ago a lady at our barn asked me a simple question. The actual words she said were: “Why do you ride Little Love?”

We were coming back from a trail ride and Little Love was walking with her head down, strolling next to this woman’s docile mount. The last flies of the season were persistently buzzing around both our heads, and every once and a while Lilo shook her head impatiently.

Such a simple question that could be interpreted several ways.

“What do you mean?” I asked, although I had a hunch of what my trail partner was getting at. She had, after all, witnessed Little Love peering at the big hay bales on the field and shying away from the large puddles on the road, not to mention the one time she spooked at the flock of seagulls that landed in the field next door.

“Well, she’s sort of… difficult.” The woman shrugged. “I would never choose to ride her, it’s too much work.”

This is not the first time someone makes such a comment and I’m fairly sure it won't be the last. Wasn't it just three weeks ago Little Love’s owner reported a similar conversation? She had been having dinner with a friend, a woman who owns a stallion at our barn with her daughter. During the course of the conversation, Little Love’s owner had mentioned that perhaps if her friend wanted, she could ride Little Love occasionally. It was a generous offer to a woman who was sharing her horse with her daughter. But the lady refused point blank. Then she said what she really thought.

“Frankly, I don’t even understand why you own that animal. You should sell her and get a horse that is nicer, you know, a good-natured one.”

I admit; Little Love is not what people would call the perfect horse. People, who don’t know her, see her as a horse that is afraid of strange objects, fearful of loud noises and absolutely horrified of enclosed spaces. She runs when she is frightened, rears if she is contained, dislikes people touching her and bites when irritated. On top of all this, she has a long back, enormous movement and by default does not trust humans.

A few years ago I, too, thought Little Love was all that, but now I know better. She was never difficult, she simply tried to express herself and make her “voice” heard. She had been trying for a very, very long time, just about as long as humans had been trying to “train” her. When nobody listened, she developed habits that turned her into someone she really is not. Alert became fearful, powerful became out of control, sensitive became anxious, and careful became angry.

Those days may be in the past, but that “difficult” horse can still resurface within seconds if Little Love’s opinion is not heard. But interestingly enough, that is really all she wants; to be heard. This mare can be amazingly flexible and generous, but only if she knows you know how she feels and respect that. She will even tolerate previously unthinkable things such as walking into the trailer, as long as she knows you will listen to her and let her take a moment, in case she gets claustrophobic. And despite her dislike for dressage work, she will do it willingly, but only if you don’t ask for it every day, or even every other day.

But, truth told, there are still brief moments when I wish Little Love could just be an obedient, calm horse. Just last week during a trail ride she got flustered over a log on the ground and wanted to run home. I lost my usual cool and became frustrated and impatient. We made it home in one piece, but I apologized to Little Love later, because I had been out of line. She knew just as well as I did that I had no right to be angry at her. But in the heat of the moment it is easier to be angry at the horse instead of admitting your own inadequacy. Klaus Hempfling puts it so well in the movie The Path of the Horse when he talks about the daily message horses give us: “you are not enough, you are not enough.” And that is exactly why we get so angry; nobody wants to hear they are not enough.

So, that all said, I can understand why people would rather try the rougher bit, dig out the drawreins or send their horse off to the hotshot trainer to be “straightened out”. It is certainly an easier solution than looking into the mirror and seeing yourself as who you really are; someone who is not enough for their horse. But, on the same token, if you choose to take the road less traveled, I can assure you that the scenery will be unforgettable. Yes, the expedition down that path of self-discovery will be paved with tears of frustration and disappointment, and there will be times you just want to quit. But if you persist, if you dare to stare into that mirror also known as a horse, you will discover the most memorable journey of your life.

In Little Love’s case I can see that the more mutual trust we have, the better our communication. And the better we communicate, the calmer we both are. We still have a long way to go before she trusts me enough to be labeled “bombproof” and I’m not even sure we will ever get to that point. In the meanwhile I will continue to work on myself, trying to learn how to be enough. And that is exactly what I told the lady who asked me why I ride Little Love.

Little Love and I are inseparable because she is teaching me how to connect with an inner peace I never knew existed. She is teaching me how to be a better person. She is teaching me about unconditional love. She chose me to be her student and I am honored to have been chosen. I know, she’s not bombproof, but guess what? I no longer expect her to be. Because what she is giving me instead is priceless.

~ K

“I wanted a perfect ending… Now I’ve learned, the hard way, that some poems don’t rhyme, and some storied don’t have a clear beginning, middle and end. Life is about not knowing, having to change, taking the moment and making the best of it, without knowing what’s going to happen next. Delicious ambiguity.” - Gilda Radner

Evolving

2010-09-26T07:01:00.000-07:00

“The road was new to me, as roads always are, going back.” - Sarah Orne Jewett

Friday was the opening ceremony of the 6th World Equestrian Games in Lexington, Kentucky. Held for the first time on non-European soil the 2010 Games will be an exceptional event, I have no doubt. I should know, having been to the WEG several times before as a competitor. The excitement, the cheering crowds, the competition, the parties, friends, fellow coaches and the amazing performances are something I will never forget. For a vaulting coach, the games are like the Olympics; several equestrian disciplines coming together, your country uniting with their horses to fight for the medals, the titles, the fame.

Twenty years ago it was at the first WEG in 1990 in Stockholm that I ever had the opportunity to walk on a real cross country jumping course. The obstacles were massive, impressive and watching the horses clear the same jumps the next day was unforgettable. Later, I snuck off for a few hours to watch my fellow countryman, Kyra Kyrklund ,win the silver medal with her famous stallion Matador. My team placed 10th in their first ever international competition. I was 22 and hooked for life, I thought. I went on to participate in the WEG in 1994 in Den Hague and 1998 in Rome. In 2002 my team didn’t qualify for the games (we came in second in the USA trials) and I was sad not to be part of the experience in Spain. I swore to return in 2006 Aachen.

And I did, but this time as a spectator. Life had taken a few turns and I had retired from coaching vaulting on an international level. Perhaps because I was no longer on the inside, but rather watching everything from a distance, the WEG in Aachen was a different experience, unearthing emotions I had not known existed. Surrounded by people I had known for years, some even decades, people who willingly gave me their extra tickets to the compulsory round or who snuck me into the warm up area to talk to fellow coaches I felt oddly estranged, almost perplexed as if I had been sent to a foreign land to observe something previously concealed.

And then there was the dressage. I had a ticket to the finals and for a good part of the Grand Prix Freestyles I sat in the stands, watching ride after ride, feeling untouched, uninterested. When there were only five riders left to go, the crème de la crème, the top five dressage masters of the world, I walked out of the stadium in search of something else, something more real. I honestly can’t say I was on the Path then, but perhaps the Path was already in me, creeping closer to my consciousness.

I found myself standing by the warm up arena. No longer was I far away from the action, watching a horse performing from fifty yards away, but I was right there, so close I could have touched the animals as they passaged down the long side. And suddenly all the glory of the sport was gone and all that was left was the ugly truth. The foaming mouths, the dripping sweat, the spurs digging into the flesh, the sounds of the struggle; it was all something you don’t see or hear from the stands of the stadium. With a tightening stomach I watched as the world-champion-to-be rode her horse in violent rollkur for a full thirty minutes.

That was four years ago. Four long years that have transformed my humanity. The WEG in Kentucky has started without me. But I’m not going to lie; a part of me misses the excitement of being part of something so amazing as the World Equestrian Games. I will never forget the feeling I had performing in front of all thousands of people, the media, the world. Nothing quite compares to the buzz surrounding the Games. It is about so much more than just the horses.

But that is exactly the point. Equestrian competitions are about so much more than just the horses. Mostly they are about people wanting to test their skill against the rest of the world. Nobody ever asked a horse if he wanted to compete, I certainly didn’t. Horses are not goal-oriented and competitive like we are, what right do we even have to use them as a means to gain something we want?

Last spring I came across a petition on the internet that rattled my cage. It is a petition set up by the Nevzorov Haute Ecole to ban all equestrian sports. That’s right, ALL equestrian sports. No more dressage, jumping, racing, vaulting, roping, driving – any competition with a horse would be illegal. Can you imagine that?

How bold, how daring – how absolutely ingenious.

Our current society is all about measuring competence, about proving personal excellence and the horse world is no different. Competition paves the road for breeding and training, it motivates the average riding school rider, it affects the daily lives of so many people and horses. Wouldn’t so many people just say: What is the point to be with horses if you can’t compete with them? Would these same people label their horses “useless” and send them to slaughter? Because let’s face it, there are people who would no longer be interested in riding, if they didn’t have the option to compete. Surely the racing industry would literally just fall to pieces. Not to mention all the associations and federations set up to support Olympic and other sports. Entire careers would be ruined. All the money, advertizing, training, careers, glory – gone. It would surely be disastrous.

I went to look at the petition and was shaken by my own feelings towards it. I wanted to sign it, but was torn. It was another one of those moments when I realized how far I have come in a relatively short time. How could I, a former international competitor and coach, want to ban all equestrian sports? I do, after all, still know a bunch of people who are competing as we speak.

But this is not about other people, is it? It shouldn’t be. It should be about me and my personal conviction. And we all need to make the decision for ourselves, nobody else. Someone is riding in a bit, another chooses to ride bitless, and then there are those who have given up riding altogether; we are all finding the best way for ourselves to be with the horse. I can’t pass judgment on anyone else but myself; I only have to live with my own decision.

When I stared at the petition, I realized the enormity of the equestrian world. There are so many ways to be with a horse, many of which involve exploiting the animal. To think of stopping all competition is completely insane, a utopia of sorts. But, I have to admit that it does make you wonder what it would change. Would it change the lives of our horses to the better? Would it change us to the better?

After thinking about the petition for several days, I went back to sign it. I was number 798 to sign. This petition may not make much of a difference, but I wanted to put my name on it for myself and myself only. And yes, I will probably feel like a hypocrite next week when the world’s best vaulters compete in Kentucky and I feel inclined to check on the results. People I know and even people I once coached are still participating. These are all people going for the gold, following a dream I once was part of. I wish them luck, I hope for them to catch what they are chasing.

In the meanwhile I wrestle with my own demons; my past, my future. I am evolving, but it seems impossible to predict at what speed.

~K

“There are very few human beings who receive the truth, complete and staggering, by instant illumination. Most of them acquire it fragment by fragment, on a small scale, by successive developments, cellularly, like a laborious mosaic. – Anaïs Nin

If you are interested in the above mentioned petition, go to http://www.gopetition.com/petitions/against-equestrian-sport.html

The difference

2010-09-21T04:24:00.000-07:00

"When anything gets freed, a zest goes round the world." - Hortense Calisher

Look at the two pictures above. What is the difference between the two? Or is there a difference?

If I told you that I kept my dog Chili in a crate 23 hours a day just to take her out for a training session in the yard once a day with a muzzle on her face so she couldn't open her mouth, what would you think of me? Would it be the same if I told you my horse lived in a stall, but that I rode it every day for an hour to give it exercise?

Why does it seem unacceptable to treat a dog in the above described way, but it is a customary reality for many horses? Horses, like dogs, are born to move. In fact, they are so inclined to move that they stand up and start walking within the first few hours of their lives. Yet people find it acceptable to keep them in stalls, unmoving, day after day.

Before our paths crossed, Little Love used to live at a barn where she never left her stall for other than a riding session. For two years she was let loose a handful of time, each time resulting in some sort of injury.

"She went crazy when she was free," her owner reported to me, "so in the end we never let her free."

Right. That would make sense, wouldn't it? The problem, of course, was that there was no opportunity to put her outside or let her go in the arena on a regular basis. Perhaps in this case it was best to refrain from EVER doing it. I think Leonardo Da Vinci put it well when he said: "Once you have tasted flight, you will forever walk the earth with your eyes turned skyward, for there you have been, and there you will always long to return." Is it easier for horses to never be let loose than to get the opportunity once a year for thirty minutes or less?

I look at Little Love now, her confident calmness when I slip her halter off and let her loose in the arena or the pasture. She stands there and sniffs the air, then walks off to investigate the area. No crazy running, no injuries waiting to happen. And this only because she goes out in the pasture every day for four hours. That's it. Four hours of solitary freedom, a fraction of what she really needs. But what a difference it has made in who she is. I can only imagine who she would be if she didn't live in a stall at all, if she had access to movement every moment of her life.

So many people don't share (let alone understand) my passion for freeing all horses from stall living. Last winter when the weather was wet, the horses at the barn stayed inside for over two weeks straight. The pastures are grass and the barn owner wants to keep them in pristine condition, which means when it rains, the horses stay in. This happens periodically in the fall, winter and spring. Needless to say, Little Love turns into a maniac when her cabinfever rises. On days of complete stall confinement I do my best to go to the barn at times when others are not there to turn her loose in the arena. But life doesn't always work the way we want, and there are days when her only moment out of the stall is on the end of a rope or with a rider on her back. Which is not enough.

I had a casual conversation about this with the barn owner once, a conversation which started with the usual exchanges about the bad weather. Before I could complain about the horses having to stay inside for days, he brought the subject up himself.

"I don't understand what all the fuss is about horses having to go out every day. They are nice and cozy in their box stalls."

I looked at him in surprise. Had someone else actually voiced a concern? Was I not the only one here thinking this was total animal torture?

"Well, horses weren't exactly meant to live in stalls," I said, bravely. "Little Love is definitely a completely different horse when she gets to go out."

The barn owner gave me a scornful look. I could see I was quickly being labeled as one of those freaks who actually thought about horses' needs. Not that I didn't already have that label tattooed across my forehead before this conversation.

He let out a short laugh that sounded like a bark. "You know what? Ten years ago we didn't put the horses out for the entire winter, and they were fine. Three months inside. Horses don't care." Then he walked off. That was the last time we ever discussed the subject and what was there to discuss? The open hostility of his statement was enough to tell me this man was not going to change his thinking any time soon.

But I can't seem to get over this subject of captivity and freedom, it's as if my car is stuck on a hump in the road and no matter how hard I accelerate, I can't move forward and past it. Everywhere I look, there are horses being held prisoners and people holding them hostage.

A year ago a jumping horse passed through our barn. She was only there for a short while, but as soon as she arrived it was obvious that the mare hated being in a stall. She would kick the walls of her box sometimes non-stop for hours. Obviously this brought upon an injury and then another. As a solution, the owner attached leather straps around the mare's back legs, with a piece of chain on the back. This made kicking the barn walls extremely uncomfortable, although I have to give the mare points for trying. She also developed a bad habit of attacking everyone who passed her stall, which wasn't very pleasant as she lived in a busy location of the barn. Her aggression was not helped by the fact that when she kicked the walls, people would yell at her and even hit the bars of the stall with something, like a brush of a whip. I often stopped by her stall to talk to her, telling her that I understood what she was going through.

Finally, after months of fighting, the mare gave in and stopped the kicking. I was both relieved and sad to watch her surrender; relieved because I knew it would only get worse for her if she didn't stop and sad because the humans had managed to break her spirit. I admired her for her courage; the majority of horses don't dare express their opinions about stall living as vigorously as she did. If they did, would it make a difference?

But back to where we started: the two pictures at the top of this blog... If both these animals were locked up 24/7, would you feel more for - the dog or the horse? Or is it all the same? Where do you draw the line?

A goldfish in a fishtank.
A bird in a cage.
A dog in a crate.
A tiger in the zoo.
An elephant in the circus.
A seal in a bathtub.
A horse in a stall.

What is the difference?

~ K

"If I can stop one heart from breaking,
I shall not live in vain;
If I can ease one life the aching,
Or cool one pain,
Or help one fainting robin
Unto his next again,
I shall not live in vain."

- Emily Dickinson

The Message

2010-09-13T12:33:00.000-07:00

“Problems are messages” - Shakti Gawain

Last week a woman called me because she was having trouble riding her horse in a bit. I agreed to meet her to give her the opportunity to try the bitless bridle and talk about bitless riding as an option. Two days later I arrived at the barn and was met by a tall, smiling woman who was holding the lead rope of an enormous warmblood gelding. I was delighted to see that the horse was barefoot, definitely uncommon in my neck of the woods. I asked the lady what exactly was going on. She shook her head and spoke:

“You see, I took the shoes off two years ago. The decision to do that took me a year, but then I finally did it. A while after I started thinking about riding bitless, too. I don’t know why, the thought sort of just came to me. After deliberating for months, I decided to try a hackamore*. My horse hated it, it was impossible to ride him in that bridle. So, I went back to the bit.”

I watched the horse closely. He was eating hay out of a bale placed in the middle of the barn aisle, but I could see he was listening and internalizing his person’s account.

“So, I rode in a bit again. But two months after, the problems started.”

“What kind of problems?” I asked.

“Well, at first he was just opening his mouth. I tried to strap it shut, you know, like everyone does, but it just made everything worse. Soon he was tossing his head.” She looked at the horse. “Then he started with the tongue, it was everywhere but not in his mouth.” She looked desperate. “I got the dentist out a million times, the vet and the chiropractor. We tried everything”. She sighed. “I hope this bridle works, because I’m at the end of my rope.”

I smiled. The horse was looking at me. We both knew it would work.

And it did. The horse was great in the bitless, in fact, he had never been better. The owner was relieved.

“You know what is really weird?” she said after getting off her horse. “He never seemed to have a problem with the bit for the first four years I owned him. It wasn’t until I took the shoes off and then started to think about the bitless option that he no longer supported the bit.”

I looked at the woman, she was so earnest in her bewilderment. I knew she needed me to say out loud what she had trouble putting into words.

“Perhaps your horse wanted you to go bitless all along and he was simply communicating this message to you,” I said and stroked the horses neck. He chewed. “Perhaps that’s why you got the idea to try bitless riding in the first place.”

The woman nodded. “You know, I was thinking about that, but… ” She glanced at me. I could see she wanted confirmation, reassurance. Please tell me I’m not crazy for thinking my horse is actually communicating with me, her face seemed to say. Please tell me I’m not crazy for feeling the way I feel.

“Well,” I said gently. “I commend you for being so observant and listening to your horse. Not everyone is capable of such awareness.”

She shrugged, but I could see she was pleased by the compliment. “In the end it was pretty obvious that he didn’t want the bit.” The woman looked away, sort of embarrassed. “I just didn’t want to believe it at first. It was sort of what happened with the shoes, too. People told me I was crazy when I took them off, but at that point I was convinced it was the right thing to do.”

“You listened to your horse about the shoes, so he figured you would listen about the bit, too,” I said.

I truly do commend people like this woman. It is not obvious to see misbehavior from the horse’s part as a form of communication. But to then look for alternative solutions? Most people will do anything but seek answers especially when they get the feeling the answers will lead to what they fear most – change in themselves.

All people have the ability to connect with another living being, but the belief that humans should dominate animals, especially an animal as big as a horse, gets in the way of true communication and true feelings. When a horse misbehaves, we don’t see this as information, but a problem that needs a solution – fast.

Perhaps the core of this issue lies in the fact that we are living in a brain oriented world. We value reasoning and problem solving over intuition and emotions. But real intelligence is so much more; it happens throughout the whole body, not just the brain. In fact, too much thinking can hinder our capacity to stay in the moment and feel and experience. Horses, on the other hand, are masters at both feeling and experiencing. They communicate with emotion, they live in the moment. And this is why we love being around them; we are seeking something we lost, if not at birth, soon after.

But – although we are unconsciously seeking this – we are also terrified of tapping into our two other brains: the brain in the gut and the brain in the heart. In theory we admire people who communicate with animals, we watch movies of so called horse whisperers and read books of children who grew up running with wild animals. These stories are exceptional and deep down we wish we could have such a gift as being accepted by animals as one of them. In real life, however, it often scares us to be part of something that seems so out of control, so instinctual. Surely something so primitive could not be what we are seeking for? If I listen to my gut and my heart, where are they going to take me? Am I going to have to feel something I won’t be able to handle? Am I going to have to look into myself? Will I like what I see?

For a while there I, too, was living in complete denial of the messages my intuition (and the horses around me) was sending me. It is easy to rationalize and follow the mainstream while making excuses to convince yourself that “this is the way it’s done.” I remember about seven years back a riding student of mine called me a horse whisperer and I laughed at her, claiming to be no such thing. And I was serious, even when she insisted that she saw some strange connection between me and the horses, that the horses acted different when I was present, I merely said “It’s because I’ve been doing this for so long,” dismissing the nagging feeling that I, too, like the horses around me, was capable of communicating with emotions. If I didn’t admit to hearing what horses had to say, I didn’t have to listen, right?

Sometimes it requires a major event such as an illness or an accident to force a person to encounter the emotions buried deep inside. For me it was perhaps a series of small, seemingly unrelated events put together that shattered the old me and opened up a new passage within. When everything else is torn up in pieces, peeled away like layers of an onion, what you have left is your vulnerable authentic self made of honest intuition and raw emotions. It can be an overwhelming experience to discover such hidden potential inside yourself, but at the same time it can free you in ways you never imagined possible.

I drove home from the meeting with the lady and her barefoot warmblood with my heart humming. I always feel uplifted when I meet new people who are changing, people who are brave enough to listen to their horses and the voice from their gut and heart instead to the humans around them, people who are willing to take an honest look at themselves and what they are doing.

Every day I see so many others who continue wanting the best for their horses, but who unwittingly hurt them. I used to wonder if such people were simply ignorant or just so numb to the core that they were incapable of connecting with anything living. Now I realize that probably most are not deaf and blind, nor are they ignorant or unfeeling, they just simply are not ready to hear and see the message. I can only wish their time will come, sooner rather than later, and when it does, they’ll have courage to take in the messages their heart and gut and horses are sending them.

~K

The truth of the matter is that you always know the right thing to do. The hard part is doing it. – H. Norman Schwarzkopf

* A Hackamore is the traditional form of a bitless, but due to the shanks that act as lever arms, it can be a very severe experience for a horse.

Everything Lost

2010-09-06T13:47:00.000-07:00

The only true voyage of discovery consists not in seeking new lands, but rather in seeing with new eyes. - Marcel Proust

Yesterday evening I thought that perhaps it would be nice to go for a trail ride with Little Love, but only if she fully agreed to the ride. When I got to the barn, I haltered her immediately and took her into the indoor arena, a place where we can be in peace together when the weather is good and others ride outside. The indoor arena is not much of a space, but it is as close to freedom that I can offer Little Love in this moment in time. Freedom is a relative concept. For a horse that lives on a 1000 acre farmland an enclosed riding arena would be imprisonment. But for Lilo, who lives in a small stall, the indoor can represent a piece of freedom, however short and small.

I had brought a book to read and I sat on a chair for thirty minutes while Lilo wandered around the arena. Every now and then she stopped by me to push on my book or lick my arm just to turn around and mosey to the other side of the hall. Finally I closed my book and approached her.

“Do you want to go for a ride?” I asked. She turned her head away and walked off. Okay, that was a fairly clear message. She walked a small loop and I thought perhaps she just wanted to hang out tonight, but then she turned and came back to me, putting her head down to the halter. This in her language means: “Yes, why not”.

I walked her to the grooming area, which she entered willingly. She has been known to stop as well, so I took her willingness as another sign that she, too, wanted to go for a ride in the woods. Once I had groomed her, I grabbed the saddle and showed it to her, watching her reaction carefully. She turned her head and looked at me, with her ears forward. This is another “Yes”, something she has just recently started to offer when it comes to the saddle. Before, there was just a whole bunch of “NOs” which she reiterated by biting the saddle, pinning her ears back and moving away from the situation, if she had that option. For this reason I have ridden her less and less, as I want to respect her wishes.

I reached under her belly for the girth, happy that we were going out for a change. Suddenly Little Love moved, trying to pull her rope loose and walk towards her box stall. I stopped what I was doing and, reverting to my old ways, said: “No, stay still, we have to go for the ride.” I didn’t notice the words I had used, the change in my own attitude. Instead, I fixed her stance, turning her head to face away from the stall and tried to grab the girth again. She made another quick move towards her box, pulling on the rope that was loosely thrown over the bar in front of her. I grabbed her halter and moved her back to her original position.

“Stop it, I have to tighten the girth.” I could feel myself tense up. I wanted to ride, I had my mind set on this ride. The forceful dominant rider, someone I used to be, started to lift her ugly head inside me. I tried tightening the girth for the third time, but this time Little Love nearly stepped on me as she moved abruptly towards the stall. Her ears were forward and she stood stock still, staring at her box door.

Then it dawned on me. The barn owner had just delivered her evening hay into her stall. In the wild horses eat almost all day, but in captivity we feed them two or three times a day at set mealtimes. Set mealtimes make horses obsessed with food and Little Love was no different. I suddenly realized what she was trying to tell me. In my tunnel vision world I had not realized what was going on. I was also fairly sure she could not understand why I would want to go on a ride when it was dinner time. In her world that made no sense whatsoever.

“Ok,” I said. “I’ll fix the girth and then you can go eat for a while. Then we’ll see if we go for the ride.” Little Love chewed. She waited patiently for me to get the saddle strapped on properly, content that her person finally had a clue.

I let her into the stall and she started nibbling on the pile of hay on the ground. I thought of what I had said to Lilo earlier; “We have to go for a ride”. Ha. We didn’t have to do anything. This was just human inflexible goal-oriented thinking. Horses must think we humans are nuts. I sat on the bench outside and waited for a good ten minutes. Then I grabbed the bridle and walked back into the barn.

Now she was ready to go. She hadn’t had all her hay, but had been able to eat enough to feel content. We set off for a ride, walking side by side at first. When we got to the top of the hill, I mounted her and she stood still, accepting me on her back. She lifted her head high and peered tensely down the field. I saw a tractor and a hay bailer in the distance.

“That’s okay, we don’t have to go that way, we could try something new today.” I sat on her back and she started walking, not because I had asked her to, but because that was what we were both thinking about; going for a walk. She didn’t take the usual turn to the left because of the tractor, but chose the road up the hill. We came to the edge of the forest.

“Hey, let’s go into the forest path,” I said and gently directed Lilo towards the opening in the trees. She hesitated, but then dove under the branches, ready to give it a try despite the claustrophobia that makes her shy away from trees and branches that come too close. Two fallen logs crossed our path and I could feel her unease. She snorted. Logs meant jumping and jumping meant stress, something she had learned long before our paths met a few years ago.

She stepped over the first log, but couldn’t help the panic that rushed into her limbs. She jumped over the second log and started trotting in alarm down the path. I ducked the tree limbs and leaned over her neck, not touching the reins.

“Hey, it’s okay,” I said, but didn’t try to slow her down. I knew she would calm down in a moment, when she felt the memories had subsided enough.

Soon she slowed down to a walk. We treaded softly over fallen pine needles and browning leaves. Once we were on a wider path, I stroked Little Love’s neck; she was alert, but calm.

“If you want to trot or canter, I’m with you,” I said. I didn’t touch her with my leg, but she picked up the canter. It was slow, tentative. We cantered for a moment, then took a left at the trot to pass the scary cottage in the middle of the forest. Someone was having a party there and children shrieked with delighted surprise when they saw the black horse approaching. Little Love held her breath and her head came up very high, but she didn’t stop or turn to go home like she would have last year.

“Brave horse,” I said to her, focusing on regulating my own breath to help her cope.

It wasn’t easy for her, but she passed the commotion calmly but swiftly. Once it was all behind us, she picked up a nervous trot, trying to shed the experience off the way horses do by running away from it. I didn’t stop her, but instead followed her lead, allowing her to work out the stress from her body.

When we popped out of the forest, the sun was starting to set behind the Jura Mountains and facing this magnificent backdrop, we both caught our breath simultaneously. Although I have lived in Switzerland for over five years, I never stop marveling over the beauty of the mountains, the lush shades of green in the summer and the soft snow peaks in the winter. Little Love, on the other hand, was not admiring the mountains. True to her horse nature, she was content to finally be out of the confines of the forest and back to safety of the wide open spaces where she could see as far as her eye took her.

We approached the barn from the hill above and Lilo slowed down to an ambling walk. She doesn’t like carrying me downhill, so I asked her to stop. She stood patiently waiting for me to climb off, loosen the girt, put up the stirrups and open the noseband. I walked her into a field and she put her head down to graze. I watched her suck in the lush end-of-the-summer grass and thought of nothing in particular.

Suddenly a dog barked at a house by the road and Little Love jumped and snorted in panic. Instead of trying to stop her, I took lead and trotted ten fifteen paces away from the dog before slowing down to a walk again. Little Love, who had followed me, blew air out of her nose and shook her head. And it came to me again, like it often does at small moments like this, that this is what it is like to be “with” the horse, not against the horse. It is like a constant exchange of emotions and reactions, it is a constant effort to understand the messages passed to you in this silent language called horse. To be with the horse is to understand the point of view of the horse and not to forcefully implement that of your own. With force and pressure and control you cannot have togetherness, you can only have separateness.

Long time ago I thought that the horses had to do what we said, or else everything would be lost. Everything. You must be the boss or the horse will take over. I can’t say how many times my trainers told me that. So many, that I believed every word of it and learned to be the boss. But here I am now with this beautiful black mare, and it no longer matters who the boss is, or if there even is one. There is no inequality between friends.

And yes, it is true; everything I ever knew is lost. And I thank the universe for that every day.

~K

One cannot see the light. It is what makes us see. – Henry Corbin

Levels of Imprisonment

2010-08-29T07:12:00.000-07:00

A picture is worth a thousand words. Look at the above picture closely. What are the first words that come to your mind?

A horse is an animal that is by nature social and lives in herds, an animal to which movement and continuous grazing is compulsory for good health. We have managed to take this animal and force it to live in a 12x12 stall separated from its family, unable to move or graze all day. And this is the norm.

Some lucky horses get to go out for three hours in the morning to stand individually in their stamp sized paddocks and stare at each other over the electric fence in silence. Some, slightly luckier ones might go out in bigger pastures, still separated by the fence but at least there is a short stretch where you can run side by side and perhaps touch over the fence if you are taller than 16 hands. The luckiest of them all get to go outside together and if you live in a stall such as the one pictured above, it might be your life savior, because despite being imprisoned for life, at least you have each other, another horse to touch, a companion to share your miserable life with.

In other words, there are levels of imprisonment. Some more severe than others.

The more I think about this, the more it makes me sick. It seems so easy to forget that while you are not at the barn that the horse is just standing there, surrounded by four walls, unable to move more than a few feet to the left or right. Out of sight, out of mind. Tucked safely in his jail, so the owner doesn’t have to worry he is outside cantering around, possibly getting hurt.

Some people actually think the horse is happy this way. Just last spring I ran into a woman whose older gelding I used to ride over a year ago. She is now at another stable and since I haven’t seen the horse for quite some time, I asked how he was doing.

“Oh, he’s great. The barn is fantastic. The only down side is that he doesn’t get to go out at all, they don’t have pastures. But he has a really, really big box and straw up to his knees - so he’s happy.”

Really? Don’t you think he’d rather be outside? Knowing the facility, I can see how one can be fooled. Beautiful, vaulted ceilings, large indoor arena, wide barn aisles, state of the art wash racks, gorgeous tack room. Sounds fabulous, but unfortunately all that means nothing to the horse, absolutely nothing.

And then there is Little Love. There are days when I can’t stop thinking about her in her stall. Usually those are the days it rains so heavily, the barn owner doesn’t want the horses outside “ruining the pastures”. My heart is a little fist in my chest as I rush through my work, I speed on the freeway, I will the people in the grocery store to move a little faster just to save some time to go there, to have an extra moment to take my friend out of her prison. Even if it just for 15minutes, it is better than nothing.

Last week it was a day like that, a rainy day when I had thirty minutes to spare that I witnessed something that made me swallow back tears. I was taking Lilo’s halter off when I noticed the horse across the aisle moving restlessly in his stall. I peered at him through the metal bars that separate the horses from each other and seem to reiterate the real function of this barn. The horses are able to see each other, smell each other, but not quite touch each other.

The horse’s eye caught mine and for a moment we stared at each other. Then he turned and tried to lift his nose over the metal bars to touch his neighbor, a very friendly gelding. They could not quite reach; the bars were too high. The friendly gelding shook his head and went to his window, which opened up into the aisle. He pushed his head through and looked at his neighbor, as if to say “come on, come to your window.”

At this barn, each horse has a window which enables them to look out of their stall into the aisle. It also enables them, if they want, to stretch out and touch each other. We can’t talk about full body contact that would allow grooming, but just enough distance for noses to touch.

The horse pushed against his window and the bars rattled in the silent barn. His window was closed. Sometimes, if a horse is really interested in other horses, his window will not be opened. Some people believe that encouraging contact between horses is like encouraging mutiny. Others keep their horse’s windows closed for other reasons, such as fear of injury.

But if there is a will, there is a way. The only opening to this horse’s box stall is a small gap above his feeder through which the barn worker delivers the daily grain portions. It is just big enough to fit a human hand and a scoop. And a horse’s muzzle.

When I saw the horse push his nose out through the opening over his feeder, I couldn’t believe my eyes. To be able to do this he had to twist his neck to an unconceivable angle. But it worked. On the other side was the friendly gelding in the stall next door, waiting with his head out of his window. With tears welling up in my eyes I watched the two horses “play” in this manner, the other with his head through his window and the other with merely his mouth and nostrils fitting through the small hole above his feeder. Gently they touched each other, like two long lost relatives.

I realized that whatever I was doing, trying to provide companionship and momentary relief to one single horse, was just a mere drop in the ocean, a barely noticeable speck of kindness in a sea of injustice. All those horses, all of them, and the ones at the neighboring barns, neighboring countries and many all over the world, are horses just like Little Love and her friends. Horses craving for peer friendship and freedom. Horses craving to be touched by another horse.

Look at the picture in the beginning of this post again. What do you see? Do you see a happy horse living in this stall? Or do you see…

loneliness desperation anguish oppression prisoner breaking out lock up isolation torture life time of misery separation from peers boredom boredom boredom let me out yearning for freedom outdoors suffocating claustrophobia sad horse

imprisonment?

Often we own horses and we expect them to perform for us the moment we enter in their presence. We think: “What can this horse do for me, how can I make it do what I want?” But after everything we have taken away from them; locking them in stalls, denying them a normal family life, withholding movement, continuous grazing. Not to mention nailing shoes to their hooves, putting bits in their mouths, saddles on their backs and riding them whichever way we please.

After all we have done perhaps the right question to ask would be: “What can I do for this horse to make his life better?”

~K

PS. After I wrote this blog, I found out that this horse’s window is closed because people don’t like walking their horses past him as he is so keen to touch them. I talked to the horse owner and we agreed that perhaps it would be alright to open the second window this horse has which does not enable him to touch other horses, but does give him a look at the yard and everything that happens there. So, when the weather is sunny and warm, I have permission to open that window.
PS2. The pictures in this blog were not taken at Lilo's barn, but a barn I visited this summer for a day.

"The opposite of love is not hate, it's indifference. The opposite of art is not ugliness, it's indifference. The opposite of faith is not heresy, it's indifference. And the opposite of life is not death, it's indifference." — Elie Wiesel

The power of the bit

2010-08-23T07:05:00.000-07:00

I used to subscribe to mainstream equestrian magazines such as Dressage Today. I also used to regularly read Finnish publications such as Hippos and Hevoset ja Ratsastus which are geared towards the average horse enthusiast. Just a few years ago I found the articles in these magazines helpful and informative. However, since I have found my way onto the less beaten path (of the horse), I haven’t bothered to read such publications as I know they have nothing to offer for someone with my conviction.

So, having only half-heartedly followed the mainstream equestrian world, it has been easy to imagine that some real changes are happening, that people are looking for alternative solutions for their horses. But are they really? Or is it just an illusion created by the fact that I have surrounded myself by a minority which shares my world view? People who want no harm, use no force and base their relationship with their horse on trust and companionship.

Perhaps I’ve been living in a bubble.

To unconsciously prove myself right, I happened to run across one of the main publications in Finland geared toward the horse-loving public. This magazine has a circulation of over 35.000 which is quite a lot in a small country like Finland. And not only that, the magazine is the official publication for the National Equestrian Federation. Very influential, in other words.

The cover supports a picture of the country’s most famous dressage rider walking down a wooded path with her longtime four-legged international dressage partner. Inside I find a short article written by this rider. I turn to it enthusiastically, since I, too, have admired this woman most of my life. She was and still is, after all, the idol of so many aspiring riders. And once upon a time I was one of them.

Her article is titled “Avoid dangerous situations” which is an important subject. We all want to stay safe around horses. I start to read through, but already the first line makes me wince. “A horse is a big and powerful animal, and it does not think or act like a human.” This is all true, of course, but somehow I am starting to get a premonition of where this is going. I read further.

The article is about the competition season and how to minimize the risks of having an accident with your horse while competing and traveling. There is advice about using gloves while lunging and teaching your horse to stand still when you mount. But there is also advice on how to handle the said animal when loading. “I always load my horses with a bridle and a lungeline. With the aid of the bit I can control each step the horse takes.”

With the aid of the bit I can control each step the horse takes.

The words stare at me from the page. When we talk about horses, it always comes down to the same subject, doesn’t it? Control. We must have control. And, according to the article, the way to gain control over this strong and powerful animal is with a bit.

To tell you the truth, I am sort of shocked. This woman, an international competitor, teacher, horse trainer – dare I say: guru - who has been living and breathing horses for the past 40 something years, must use a bit to control the horse’s every step. What happened to trust and kindness? What about learning more about this strong and powerful animal, his language, his mind, instead of immediately using a forceful piece of equipment to get him to behave exactly like we want? Yes, he does not act and think like a human (thank god for that!), but that is why it is crucial for us to find the tools to achieve a two way communication with him. In my book this does not include putting a metal piece in his mouth to inflict pain (nor does it include competing with the horse, but I'll get to that in another blogpost).

The article continues to explain the use of the bitted bridle. “I always use the bridle (with bit) when I take my horse out of his stall in strange places. No matter how calm my horse is, I cannot predict what will happen around him or what others will do. Stallions should never be led without a bit and this should be added to the competition rules on all levels.”

Wow. Never is a strong word. Does she mean never as in not even at home? The article does not explain this, it merely says never. I turn back to the front cover, where this rider is walking leisurely down the path with her beloved stallion, a horse she has ridden and trained for nearly a decade. He is in a bridle, with a bit. And more over, he has a metal stud chain running through the left bit ring and under his chin. Just in case.

I can now see the enormity of the problem people like myself are facing.

After reading this article written by the most influential Finnish rider of all times and published in one of the biggest horse magazines in Finland, I realize that it will take a very, very long time for the entire equestrian community to change and abandon bits. As long as people believe it is absolutely necessary to have a bit to control a horse’s every step, they surely won’t consider riding in bitless bridles any time soon.

In fact, it wouldn’t even cross their minds since their idol and the person they most look up to has announced that the bit will guarantee control, every step of the way. And this saddens me beyond words. Because, having used a bitless bridle for over two years, I can only marvel over the difference it makes in the character of the horse, the relationship between the rider and the mount, and the overall well being of the animal. And, since the horse no longer is reacting to the pain in his mouth, it even helps us gain the coveted control. And when I say horse, I mean stallions as well.

Ok, I admit that it’s not only the bitless bridle that has transformed so many horses. Because, truth be told, going bitless sort of has the power to open your eyes to so many things. When you take the bit away and see the changes in your horse, you suddenly realize that you never really knew who your horse was in the first place. And once you see a glimpse of him, the real him, you want to see more. And then some more. And suddenly you are looking at other ways to improve his life, to help him free himself from the repressive life humans destined him from birth.

On the other hand, in the past two years I have witnessed so many riders crossing over to the “other side” that I have lost count. I still want to remain carefully hopeful that there will be a day when all horses are freed from the oppressive use of a piece of metal in such a sensitive area as the mouth. If people just open their minds to something new and innovative as the bitless bridle, soon we will have masses of riders trying this new way of riding. And I believe – I have to believe – that this is just the beginning of something that will someday become a norm.

As much as articles such as the one described above might discourage me, they also point me to the right direction. It certainly would be easier to get my message across if I was a world famous dressage rider, but I’m not. Perhaps I am a nobody, but when a nobody meets another nobody and then the pair of them run into somebody and anybody, a group has formed. And what was that quote by famous cultural anthropologist Margaret Meade?

“Never doubt that a small group of thoughtful, committed people can change the world. Indeed, it is the only thing that ever has.”

Walk with me,

~K

Home

2010-08-14T11:57:00.000-07:00

Someone wise once said that home is where your heart is, and I couldn't agree more. Sometimes, however, when your heart is here and there and everywhere, it is hard to determine the exact location of home. Home seems to be many things; home is connected to people, places, memories – even feelings. Perhaps, rather than being a physical position, home is an emotional condition, a sensation of certainty and security, a state of calmness and peace where you feel you can be yourself.

My home is with my family, half of which is scattered around the world. My home is with my dearest friends, whom all live in different countries. My home is where I am physically, right now, but also where I grew up. More importantly, my home is where I spent the carefree summers of my childhood. And then, of course, there are the horses… My home has always been where the horses are.

After being gone for over five weeks on vacation in Finland (at the before mentioned location of carefree childhood summers now transformed to semi-carefree adult summers), I finally returned to Switzerland, my physical home, a few days ago. Before we had even crossed the border in our car, my thoughts frequently turned to Little Love and how it would be to see her again, to feel her presence. Would she forgive me for leaving her for such a long time? What would be her mental state? Had we lost the connection despite my efforts to keep “in touch” over the energy of the universe, by the power of thought only?

I wanted to believe the connection was still there, because I sure had felt it; while lying in bed at night waiting for sleep, while watching clouds drift overhead as I swung in a hammock, while driving the car in a thunderstorm. I would be thinking of something else and then – suddenly, there she was, the black mare. She would enter my thoughts , sometimes as just a feeling, a picture or a phrase. I missed my horse friend, but on the other hand not. Because although she was a thousand miles away, she was right there with me, all along.

After I got home I couldn’t get to the barn fast enough, it was as if a giant magnet was pulling me there. My unpacked suitcases and five loads of laundry could wait, but this couldn’t. I had to see her, feel her energy on the spot. She knew I was coming, of course, as she always does. She was waiting at the stall door.

Her expression was tired; much, much more tired than what I remembered, but her eyes flickered when she saw me. I scrambled to get her halter on, to take her somewhere where we could just be alone, the two of us, unbothered. The barn was busy with people tacking up, longing, riding, taking off on trail rides – the things people do with horses and I could feel Lilo’s reluctance to have any part in that. The only quiet place I found was the indoor arena, not the perfect location, but with the door closed it was an area of complete privacy.

I let her go at the door and she went down to roll. She rolled and she rolled, perhaps six to seven times over. I found a chair in the corner and pulled it out. I sat down and watched for a while; Little Love stood up, her ears moving with all the noises coming from the yard. I pulled a magazine out of my pocket and settled down to read.

It took her a good twenty minutes to walk over to me and touch my arm with her nose. I breathed in her presence, swimming in the feeling of certainty we somehow manage to create together.
“Hi,” I said.

She said nothing, just chewed. Then she turned and walked away for a moment just to return again, this time planting her face in my lap.

I knew better than to touch her, as she doesn’t like to be touched on the face – not by humans. We stayed like that for a moment, our energy fields overlapping, exchanging something I can only describe as soul connections. Then I felt the urge to get up and walk. I knew it was a message from Little Love, she was asking me to join her. Soon we were walking, then running. She trotted behind me, I trotted behind her, we trotted side by side. We cantered and she bucked, then we stopped and stared at each other, the edges of our souls touching, whispering, sharing. Little Love chewed and then, like a gentle shockwave, I felt an overwhelming peace enter my body from her general direction.

I was finally home.

~K

Home is a name, a word, it is a strong one; stronger than magician ever spoke, or spirit ever answered to, in the strongest conjuration. ~Charles Dickens

This is what I dream of

2010-07-18T11:35:00.000-07:00

Dreams are answers to questions we haven't yet figured out how to ask. ~X-Files

She sees me driving by in my car and trots to the gate. Her head is high, her ears tightly pointed forward. She has been waiting for me, I know.

When I approach the pasture, she nods her head and chews. Hello, my human friend, she says. I put my hand on her neck and breathe in her musky horse smell. A light breeze tickles my neck while we spend a moment doing nothing, but feeling everything. Then, side by side, we walk back to the barn to groom and hang out. The sun is still low, the morning only starting, the insects still resting.

“How about a hike in the woods,” I say and immediately feel Little Love’s emotional message. Yes. She touches my arm with her nose to confirm, a sign we use to communicate. I get the saddle and she accepts it, another sign she wants to go out today.

I grab the reins of the bitless bridle and lead Little Love down the road. I like to walk with her until she tells me she is ready for me to ride. Some days we both end up walking, which is just as well, I enjoy it either way. We hike up the road; it is getting warmer and the flies are now out. Little Love touches my arm with her nose. A sense of peace floats between us, or perhaps it is trust or love – it all blends together and forms a lake, a pool of unlimited soul food I have just recently rediscovered.

When I was ten, I fell in love with horses. I had never ridden a horse before, nor had I ever touched one, but the moment I did, I was awestruck. That very day that I made my first contact with these four-legged creatures I biked home with my oversized bike and ran into the house like my butt was on fire.

“Mom, I want to ride horses,” I shouted from the front door. “Do you hear me? Horses.” She has later recounted that she had never seen such conviction in my eyes or heard such determination in my voice.

My mother knew nothing about horses; in fact, like most people, she found them slightly intimidating. But she did know one thing: if she didn’t find a barn for her daughter to ride at, the ten year old would find it on her own. Once I had made the initial connection with a horse, nothing, and I mean NOTHING, was going to get into the way of my relationship with these beautiful animals. I had to be with horses. It was not a choice, nor was it an option – it was my destiny.

My parents were able to scrape together enough money for one lesson a week at the local riding school. I was ecstatic. I loved riding, but even more I loved just hanging out at the barn. For the first six years I rode once a week for 60 minutes, but I went to the barn every single day, seven days a week. I lived and breathed horses.

I was like any other girl who gets bitten by the horse bug. People who witness it from the outside call it a disease and in many ways it seems like one. There is something horses do to certain people, they sort of bewitch them. And when you are bewitched by a horse, you have no other option than to follow your desire to be with these beautiful animals.

I’m still convinced it’s not about the riding; riding is just what is offered to kids when they want to be with horses. At ten, it didn’t matter that I couldn’t ride every day; I still wanted to be at the barn, close to horses. And it really didn’t matter what kind of horse, either. A horse was a horse and when I was near one, I felt peaceful, whole.

It all changed of course. You grow up and suddenly it’s all about being a good rider and riding the best horse in the barn. My riding teachers were merciless and sometimes, hiding in the stall after a particularly hard lesson, I cried bitterly. Hadn’t my drive to be around horses been so strong, I would have quit riding a long time ago. But if there is one thing I’m not, it’s a quitter. So I joined the movement. Soon it was all about the next dressage move, the higher jump, the more difficult horse, the ribbon and the acceptance of the equestrian community. At sixteen, I was selected to join the special training ring at my barn and I became the groom for the feared riding teacher – an honor that brought me even more training in the saddle.

Looking back it’s hard to see when I lost my peace and became so goal oriented. Perhaps it was gradual, rather than something that happened overnight. Suddenly I was riding up to five horses a day (none of them mine). I was still at the barn seven days a week, but instead of slowing down to spend time with horses, I was busy tacking them up, training them, shaping them. Being with horses was all about riding, and riding was about bringing out the hidden potential of each individual horse, making that horse stronger, more beautiful, and above all – trained for success.

Now, at age 42, I am desperately trying to find my way back to that feeling I discovered over thirty years ago. It took me a while to realize that I, like so many others, was searching, desperately searching for something I had lost. And then suddenly there she was, a black mare, bearing gifts I never knew existed; gifts that are earned, not simply received. I suppose it took a horse like Little Love to show me the way, I’m not sure I could have found it without her.

I can feel the sun warming my back as we trot on the edge of the field. Little Love is alert and energetic, yet she listens to my seat, my voice. Do you want to canter? Sure. We pick up the canter as we enter the forest. I can hear her hooves beating on the ground. Her breathing gets heavy as she flies up the hill with such spirit; it feels like she is growing wings. And with Little Love carrying me through the woods, I enter the place of absolute stillness. I can feel everything around me, as if the whole world is underneath a magnifying glass. No past worries to think about, no future endeavors to fret – just the present, the glorious present.

I bend forward and her mane is in my face as she speeds up, catching up with the wind. This is what I dream of at night. Not the arena, not the dressage work, not the competitions, not the successes or victories, but this feeling of freedom and love and connection.

Thank you, Little Love. Thank you for sharing your world with me and helping me remember.

~K

Ps. To read more about the first horse I ever met go back to my blog from April 27, 2009

If you surrender to the wind, you can ride it. ~Toni Morrison