11/14/2024
From Keystone Equine. Interesting read!
It is a human thing, this need to touch and be touched.
So many times, I will watch someone whose horse has done exactly as they’d wished and immediately, they take the relax and let down response of the horse and turn it into something else. Another thing to be borne.
Rather than rest and soak in the beautiful feeling of accomplishment, we’ll ruin everything that came before with a pat or a sudden forehead rub.
I know that I share this observation with the risk of ruffling feathers. Yes, your horse loves you. Yes, your horse will stand to be petted for hours. Yes, he’ll leave his friends and even his feed, to come and stand with you. Yes, you have built up a wonderful relationship based on love and sensitivity. Yes.
But wait. If your horse could talk—and trust me, when I’m watching his subtle but telling responses, he is—he would thank you for noticing this heroic effort he has made. He would love that you stopped and gave the long rein, or let his lead rope hang free. He would appreciate that you stopped chattering and just stood there, breathing deeply, melting into one another’s space.
He would be grateful that you behaved like another horse.
He would hear you when you silently were still and formed the thought of contentment. He would shake his forelock out of his eyes, in relief, when you suddenly got it… that this thing you do with your hands is to please yourself, rather than to gratify him.
Hey, I’m not against stroking my horse’s neck, or breathing deeply into his soft nose. I’m not saying that I never straighten a forelock, or gently clean out a horse’s windblown eyes, or that I don’t give a heartfelt hug. I am not against all shows of affection!
I’ve spent a lifetime observing horses and their people, however. I have seen much. Our need to touch, to pat, to caress, to reassure is as often a reflex action, done without mindfulness or empathy, as it is to show our appreciation. Many times, our loving hands have all the softness of a habit, a craving unmet, or a nervous tic.
I’ll go ahead and say it.
So often, when we pat our horses, or rub their foreheads, we’re doing this to please ourselves. Those little pats can be a selfish act, uncaring of the needs of others. It’s one more ask for which they must stand still. For when we stop and really watch, we’ll see that if we sit quietly and with nothing but love in our hearts, they will yawn and rub their noses against their knees. They will feel free to self-soothe, to let down their guard and to wholly relax.
I have seen that the horses who really crave the hands-on, will stand straight on to us with their heads at our stomachs. They will stand close beside us, so that we might reach that one nagging itch. They will not be mouthing at us, or looking away when we reach for them, or standing as unmoving/unblinking/unbreathing as a stone.
It is telling that when we are praising our horses, so often they try to move away…
I have written of this before. I have learned that people will get angry about my drawing attention to such a small thing. They scoff and defend themselves, they will mock this idea and call me names. So be it; I am ready.
Welcoming one’s touch is very different from enduring it and recognizing the difference is a subtle thing deserving of our contemplation, particularly as women. We, of all people, should understand. We claim that we want relationship. This is a two-way street, my friends. Being in a healthy pairing means that one’s needs do not automatically trump another’s.
No, our petting—and even, our constant chattering—is seldom about them. Learning to stand with our hands in our pockets is a self-discipline that is darned near Zen.
That said, what a beautifully soft and private moment this is, between Henry and Cait. I think it is telling that it is he who is stretching his head out, to reach her hand.