26/09/2024
I have often felt a bit like an alien, or someone out on an island, when it came to my approach to sharing horses with people. Maybe because I don’t see anyone else doing the same near me, and perhaps because I didn’t have the words to articulate it as I wanted to.
🌟 this right here 🌟
If you are a parent of a kid with the horse bug, or a new equestrian, or a lifelong equestrian who feels something is missing in their horsemanship, and ESPECIALLY if you are someone who teaches others about horses, read this right here.
I wish for everyone learning to be with horses to have this education. The horses will all benefit, and importantly, the student does as well.
And what’s more - recognize that the lovely softness and connection established from the ground often seems to disappear the moment we are on their backs, or “in control” through a lead rope.
I don’t think it’s because we are selfish or controlling, but rather that we don’t have a concept for riding horses that doesn’t involve control in order to provide pleasure or entertainment to the rider. We simply don’t know what we don’t know, and instead we mimic what we see.
I share this because it’s so important for us to see a different way, and know that we, too, can be different.
HOW WE SAY IT MATTERS
A Short Story from Week Two of the Foundational Youth Program.................
"Can we ride today?" a student asks with a glint in their eye and a big, begging smile.
"Why are you asking me?" I say. "I'm not the one you want to sit on."
"Well... you know what I mean!" They say in reply. I smile, and gesture them towards the lesson area. I know that soon, if they listen, they will know what *I mean*, too.
"If June and Penny say you all can ride, then we will end with some ba****ck riding. But I really mean that. It's not up to me, it's up to them." I say with firm but gentle clarity. "So, let's see if we can show them we are listening. So we can hear their answer when they give it to us."
This week is about Boundaries, for both the horse and the human. We break this down into consent, feel, and care. The exercises are silly enough for us to be playful. But careful enough for us to tune into the conversations our horses will have with us when we listen.
For the first 90 minutes of our 2 hour class, we learn how to ask where space bubbles start and end. We learn how to approach our horse with a question ("may i join you in your space?"). We learn how to wait for consent before touching ("may I touch you here?"). We learn that consent means that our yes may change from a no, and also how to show care for that shift in needs. It requires first paying attention enough to be able to listen and observe (which is why week 1 is about Awareness). Then, it requires showing the horses that we understand the responses.
Both horses, June and Penny, show great appreciation for the respect they are given. I feel from them a willingness to offer a short ride to the kids.
So, the kids get on, using their new skills of asking and checking in. Almost immediately upon getting on, the same student from the beginning of the class asks, "So... when do I get to control it?"
"It?" I think. "Control?" I ponder. What happened to the respect we had been cultivating the last hour and a half. I recall our conversation from last week when we all listed ways horses are different from cars. It seemed like we understood horses weren't push-button objects then. What got lost from then to now? I realize that the work of teaching recognition of the aliveness and autonomy of the horse shall be more work than I expected. Finally, I respond.
"Never. You never get to control the horse. And also, when did Penny become an 'it'?"
"Well... Okay! When do I get to make *her* do what I want?" They ask, attempting to ask a question to get the answer they want.
"Never. You can't make her do anything either."
The student begins to get flustered. Still with a good attitude, but with a touch of frustration, they fumble with their words and then exclaim with a smile: "Well, you know what I mean!"
"Yes, I do know what you mean. But how we ask this question matters."
Finally, the student sighs. Having met a dead end in their line of questioning, they say, "Well, I don't know any other way to say it."
"It's okay. That's completely okay! Let's find a way to say it together." Because this is important. Myself and my helper start to lead the two horses in a circle while we all try to work together to find out what we really mean.
Some are silent and some ramble as we look for the words. Finally, carefully, the same student says, "When... can I.... ask the horse to do something?"
They start to get excited as they see me get excited. It's like a game of hotter.... colder....
I can't help but smile bigger. "Yes! That's exactly it. Well, what do we need to be able to do to ask them a question?"
"...Communicate?" Another student boldy explores the unknown. Giving tentative answers, but giving them nonetheless. They are trying. This is important. They are really trying.
"Yes! And how do we communicate? We know horses don't use words like we do. So, how do we talk?"
"With our bodies?"
"Mhmm. And... what do we need to be able to do to communicate with our bodies?"
The answer is so simple, I wonder if it will slip on by them. After a bout of silence, I burst out excitedly, "We have to know what our bodies are doing!"
We go on to talk about how everything we do with our bodies matters to the horses, whether it is intentional or not. We talk about how our movement is like "noise" and if we can't learn how to be "quiet" with our bodies before we try to "talk", then there will be too much noise and our horses won't even be able to understand us. It's not so much about being so quiet that we never speak. It's more about being able to find the quiet so that when we do speak it is clear, considerate, and purposeful
So, somehow, we come back to week one: Awareness. Know where you and your horse are in space. Then week two: Boundaries. Move with feel, care, and consent. and then we end with a question...
I ask them to find quiet in their bodies (somehow they all naturally gravitate toward a nearly perfect riding position). I ask them to find breath and balance. I teach them how to "ask" for their horse to take a step, letting them know that if this is really conversation and not a command, its okay for their horse to say "I'd rather not."
The student who asked me these questions settles in their body. They close their eyes and find their balance. With the lightest pressure from their calves, they press Penny's sides to ask her to walk. Nearly immediately, with a soft willingness, she does exactly that. Her expression almost resembling that of a cheerful coach (yes, yes! like that!). The student looks at me with a gaping smile, with a touch of surprise, I think (whoa, that really worked?!?).
Maybe I did understand what they meant when they first asked all of these questions. But I wasn't sure they understood what *they* meant. Nor was I sure they understand the impact of relating to the horses as a "thing" they "control". So, as they learn how to relate to horses, I want to be clear: How we say it matters. Because its really not just what we are saying. What we say describes how we are experiencing these relationships.
And how we relate... well... it matters.