Collective Horsemanship (Michael Benner)

27/10/2025

What do your other careers or hobbies bring to your horsemanship?

I’ve been thinking about that one a lot lately. For me, every career I’ve had, every odd hobby or side interest, somehow found its way back into the saddle.

My career in engineering taught me the importance of best practices — but also the humility to admit that the “book answer” rarely fits the messy, unpredictable variables of real life. Horses, much like life, don’t always read the manual.

My career in security has taught me many aspects that blend naturally into horsemanship — things like taking a 360-degree approach, setting up for success, and thinking through every interaction before, during, and after. Systems like the OODA Loop, PDCA Cycle, and SEAL Loop have shaped how I plan and respond — not just reacting, but observing, adapting, and refining as I go. Tactical thinking, situational awareness, and continuity all have their place in the round pen and on the trail.

Teaching self-protection helped me learn how to break things down, communicate clearly, and stay calm in pressure-filled moments. It showed me the power of environmental awareness and contingency planning — skills that apply whether I’m walking into a class or working a horse through a new challenge.

And then there’s cooking — that one taught me patience, process, and timing. You can’t rush flavor, same as you can’t rush trust. Both take awareness, small adjustments, and a willingness to start over when the recipe doesn’t quite turn out. Working with horses, I’ve realized, is a lot like cooking an egg. Too much heat and things burn fast and stick; too much salt and they turn rubbery. When I finally learned how to cook eggs properly, it hit me — what I once thought was simple actually had a dozen small variables that made the difference between something forgettable and something memorable. Horsemanship’s the same way. The smallest details, handled with patience and feel, turn everyday moments into something worth remembering.

All of it — engineering, security, teaching, cooking — shaped how I see horsemanship. It’s not just about getting things “right.” It’s about adapting, observing, and knowing when to stir, when to step back, and when to let things simmer.

But more than anything, all those endeavors taught me one critical element — refinement.
If you start from that point, less work is needed in the end. Refinement isn’t just about movement; it’s about thinking, teaching, and awareness. If our approach or our ask is too wide, we create problems down the road when we want that crisp, delicate movement.

So start small, be patient, and never add more energy, heat, than needed, or things will burn. Refinement isn’t the final step — it’s the mindset you begin with.

09/09/2025

In martial arts, there are four primary body awareness principles we train in: posture and axis, body connections, timing, and movement.

Now, when I think about working with horses, whether on the ground or in the saddle, I see a pretty close mirror. We may not be throwing punches or redirecting energy from an opponent, but the principles are just as alive.

For me, they show up like this:

🐎 Balance and Posture – Just like in martial arts, everything starts here. If I’m crooked, tight, or slouching, my horse feels it immediately. Balance isn’t just me stacked straight, it’s us finding a shared center.

🔗 Connection – In martial arts, you learn how one joint connects to the next, and how your whole body works as one. With horses, the connection is not only inside my body but between me and the horse. Every rein, leg, breath, or thought is a link in that chain.

⏳ Timing – The difference between a strike landing and missing in martial arts is timing. Same with a horse. Ask a half-step too late, and the moment is gone. The horse learns through the rhythm of well-timed requests and releases.

🌊 Flow of Movement – Movement in martial arts isn’t about force, it’s about redirecting energy. Horses are no different. When I ride stiff or blocky, my horse braces. When I flow, redirect, and soften, they do too.

The principles cross over because both are conversations in motion. The horse may not speak words, but they “read” posture, connection, timing, and flow better than most humans ever will.

And sometimes I laugh at myself, because the horse always knows when I’ve lost track of one. They’ll call me out with a trip, a brace, or just a plain “nope.”

That’s when the lesson really lands, whether in the dojo or in the round pen, awareness starts in me first

05/09/2025

Uping my game to produce videos, a lot has been going on in the background over the last few months. With all the AI autotracking systems, along with new SLRs for videoing, this makes filming so much easier when you are a one-man crew. I have been experimenting with several units, software, and improving my presentation. I cannot wait to share.

04/09/2025

Where does a calm state begin?

Is it from our environment, the people we trust, the mind, or something much deeper—something we can’t quite picture but somehow know is there? Some folks will point to the nervous system. Others to the brain, maybe even specific regions of it. Then comes the old chicken-or-egg dilemma… which starts first?

For me, I see the sense of calm and looseness beginning in places smaller and quieter than we usually notice—down in the very fibers of the muscles that stabilize us. Think about the gluteus medius in the hips, the deep rotators in the pelvis, or the little stabilizers around the ankles and feet. When those muscles are weak, the big movers—the quads, hamstrings, and glutes—have to compensate. That’s when tightness, stiffness, and imbalance creep in.

These tiny stabilizers don’t drive us forward or backward, but they connect the whole system, hold us upright, and give the bigger muscles a chance to work without chaos. When they’re firing well, the body feels secure, and the mind follows. But when they’re off, the body senses instability and slips into protection mode. We don’t always recognize it consciously, but the brain does, and the nervous system quietly shifts toward defense.

These thoughts came to me while teaching Aikido last night. I watched students step into a technique they didn’t yet know, and instantly their calm, relaxed posture changed. The movement tightened, the breath shortened, and suddenly the whole body reflected that shift away from balance and into protection. It’s the same picture—whether in martial arts, horsemanship, or everyday life.

We see this in horses too. A horse with weak stabilizers will brace, overuse other muscles, and lose freedom of movement. Just like us, their body whispers “not safe” before the mind ever realizes it.

Asian philosophy has been teaching this for centuries: find your center, align your breath, let balance come before force. Neuroscience is finally catching up, showing how our brain’s sense of safety is tied to these subtle, stabilizing signals. Balance isn’t just physical—it’s neurological, emotional, even spiritual.

So maybe calm doesn’t begin in one place. Maybe it’s the meeting point of all these systems—the body whispering safety to the mind, the mind opening space for the spirit, and the environment either supporting or disturbing it.

But when I really pay attention, I notice this: when my small stabilizers are doing their job, when my body is centered and stable, calm doesn’t have to be hunted down. It shows up—steady as breath—waiting for me to notice.

(photo: NC wild horses of Corolla)

03/09/2025

People often think “light hands” means barely holding the reins. But real lightness isn’t about weak fingers—it’s about balance and clarity.

I rode a mare once who felt heavy in the bridle. It wasn’t her mouth that was the problem—it was my seat. The moment I found my own center and rode from there, I could support her to find the balance point we shared. Her topline softened, her body relaxed, and suddenly my hands felt light without me changing a thing.

True lightness starts in the rider’s balance. The hands are just the whisper at the end.

01/09/2025

Before I ride, I like to do what I call a “preflight check.” Not with a clipboard like an airline pilot (though some days it feels like I need one), but with the same mindset. Because truth is, once we swing a leg over, the little things we missed on the ground can turn into big things in the saddle.

For me, a preflight evaluation looks like this:

Myself check. Am I tense, distracted, rushing? Horses read us faster than we read them. If my head isn’t clear, the ride won’t be either.

Horse check. How’s my horse standing today? Bright eyes or tired? Relaxed or already tight through the back? A horse carries their mood in their muscles long before they show it in their face.

Body check. I run my hands over legs, back, girth area—looking for heat, swelling, or sore spots. No shortcut here. Missing something small can cost you later.

Tack check. Is the saddle sitting square, pad clean, girth tight but not cranked down? Reins even, bit clean? I don’t want surprises at a trot.

This little ritual isn’t about being paranoid, it’s about respect. Respect for the horse, respect for yourself, and respect for the fact that riding is still strapping yourself to a half-ton prey animal with a mind of its own.

Funny thing, though—this preflight habit spills over into life too. Before stepping into a tough conversation, walking into a meeting, or even heading out the door in the morning, I ask myself: Did I check the essentials? Or am I just flying blind, hoping for the best?

Because whether it’s a horse or life, skipping the preflight check usually means turbulence ahead.

19/08/2025

19/08/2025

Workshop/Clinic Offer: Self-Protection & Defensive Tactics—From the Ground and Horseback

My life’s work has blended two paths that might not seem connected at first glance—horsemanship and self-protection. In truth, they share the same foundation: awareness, timing, balance, and the ability to respond with clarity under pressure.

I’m now offering clinics and workshops in Self-Protection and Defensive Tactics with the Horse, both on the ground and from the saddle.

Unlike “self-defense,” which often focuses on legal positioning after the fact, self-protection and defensive tactics cover the full spectrum:
🔹 Before – awareness, prevention, and preparation
🔹 During – space control, movement, and balance, on foot or horseback
🔹 After – de-escalation, disengagement, and protecting yourself legally and physically once the encounter is over

One of the most effective lessons riders will learn is how traditional horsemanship maneuvers translate directly to protection. For example, a shoulder-in is not just a dressage exercise. The U.S. Cavalry used this type of oblique movement as a defensive tactic to block or deflect threats while keeping the weapon side clear. Ranch horses use the same principle when “shouldering” cattle to control space. That very same concept can be applied today against a rushing dog or an aggressive person—turning horsemanship into self-protection.

These workshops aren’t about fear—they’re about confidence, readiness, and the ability to adapt. With over 30 years of experience in self-protection training and a lifetime of horsemanship, I teach how the horse can be part of your awareness, movement, and personal security.

What You’ll Learn:
🐎 Ground-based tactics for protection in and around horses
🛡️ Mounted strategies for awareness, space control, and defensive positioning
👀 How horsemanship principles apply directly to self-protection (like shoulder-in as a defensive move)
⚖️ The difference between reactive self-defense and proactive self-protection

I’m currently looking for hosts to partner with for events running Fall 2025 through late Spring 2026. If you’re interested in bringing a clinic to your barn, riding group, or community, I’d be glad to talk details. Please feel free to DM me.

13/08/2025

- Hald Pass and Mounted Self-Protection and Tactical Defense

We get too caught up in what a maneuver “scores” in the ring, and forget what it was made for.

The half-pass? It wasn’t born to impress judges—it was built for survival. On the battlefield, it let riders move forward and sideways at the same time, keeping weapons in play and danger at a distance. Not the same as a Western side-pass (that’s straight sideways with no forward motion)—this one keeps energy moving toward safety.

Today, it still has its place.
🐕 Loose dog on the trail? Half-pass around it while heading toward safe ground.
🚶 Aggressive stranger blocking the path? Half-pass to create space, keep eyes on them, and move toward your exit.

Some moves aren’t just “dressage.” They’re history. And sometimes, they’re what keep you safe.

This is what I teach in my Mounted Self-Defense and Tactical Defense clinics.

(AI image for dramatic effect)

12/08/2025

Ever watch a sword dancer move?
Each step—balanced. Each motion—intentional. Nothing rushed, nothing wasted.
It ain’t just art. It’s a lesson.

Same with horsemanship.

We talk about training the horse, but most of the time, we’re the ones who need refining.
Balance ain’t just about staying in the saddle. It’s how we carry ourselves in life.
Grace isn’t about looking good in the arena. It’s about moving with awareness, not reaction.

Self-mastery—that's the real journey.
You can’t guide a horse well if you haven’t first learned to guide yourself.

And truth be told, the horse will always feel the part of you that’s off balance, even if you hide it from the world.

So maybe today, instead of drilling patterns or chasing softness in their body…
Pause.
Feel your own center.
Move like you're dancing with the sword.
Still, grounded, honest.

That’s the real art of horsemanship.
And it speaks louder than any aid or cue ever could.

10/07/2025

"Why I Write"

I think in pictures made of letters—
words, cherished moments frozen in time.
But growing up with dyslexia, in a world before the ease of modern tools,
meant most of my thoughts stayed trapped,
unspoken, half-formed, flickering like shadows on a wall.

That changed in the last decade.
Suddenly, what stirred inside me—
the thoughts, the feelings, the quiet insights—
could finally find their way to the page.
Still, I didn’t yet know how to honor them,
how to give full breath to what lived deep in my mind.

A friendship lit the path.
It gave me the courage to seek what I needed—
writing courses in poetry, fiction, and self-expression—
to unlearn the stiff, technical voice
that had served me well in my career
but left my soul untranslated.

I began to share my writing, quietly,
with a few I trusted.
And like any of us—no matter the age—
I found confidence blooms best
when watered by the trust of others.

Now, I write to quiet the dance in my head,
to give shape to the chaos,
to name the unnamed things.
These words aren’t meant for just one person,
but if they touch someone, anyone—
then they’ve done their work.

Because no matter where we are in life,
we carry the same storms and longings:
a fear we won’t be understood,
a dream we might be,
and a need to belong to something real.

Sometimes, I write for someone specific—
a friend, a love,
someone who stirred something worth keeping.
And when I do, I tell them.
I call. I say it out loud.
Because I don’t hide what I feel.
I try to live with the windows open,
so there’s no gray, no guessing—
only truth, spoken plainly.

-Mcihael Benner