07/30/2026
Lately, I’ve been thinking about what it really takes to become good with horses. Years ago, I would have answered that question very differently. I probably would have talked about talent, timing, feel, or experience. Those things certainly matter, but I don’t think they are what separates the horsemen who continue to grow from those who eventually plateau. Today, I think the most important quality is the willingness to change your mind.
Every meaningful lesson I have learned from a horse has begun with the realization that something I believed wasn’t quite complete. I had an explanation that seemed to make sense, until a horse challenged it. Then I had a choice. I could defend my old understanding because it was familiar, or I could become curious enough to ask whether the horse was showing me something I hadn’t considered.
Kaya has been an extraordinary teacher in that regard. She has quietly exposed gaps in my understanding of pressure, energy, gestures, motivation, and harmony. Looking back, I don’t think she was ever trying to be difficult. She was simply responding honestly to what I was communicating. More than once, I have realized that what I interpreted as resistance was actually information. She wasn’t failing to understand me. She was revealing that I still had something to learn.
I think this is one of the greatest gifts horses offer us. Every interaction becomes an opportunity to observe, develop an explanation, test it, and then revise our understanding based on the horse’s response. The horse doesn’t care how many years we’ve been riding, what titles we’ve earned, or how justified we feel. They respond to what we actually communicate in that moment. There is something wonderfully honest about that.
For those of us who do most of our learning at home, often alone, this mindset becomes even more important. We don’t always have another set of experienced eyes watching us. There isn’t someone standing at the rail ready to point out what we missed or suggest a different approach. That can feel challenging at times, and it can certainly make us vulnerable to second-guessing ourselves. It also makes it incredibly tempting to cling to explanations that feel comfortable simply because they give us certainty.
I think the more effective path is to become a student of our horses. To let them become our most trusted source of feedback. That doesn’t mean we shouldn’t seek mentors. Quite the opposite. I treasure the time I spend with Linda each year because she helps me see things I would never discover on my own. I also value filming my sessions because the camera often catches details that I completely miss in real time. Good mentors and good tools help to close the feedback loop, but neither can replace the daily conversation we have with the horse standing in front of us.
Over the years, I have become less interested in being right and much more interested in becoming more accurate. Those are very different goals. Being right often encourages us to defend our beliefs. Becoming accurate asks us to refine them. It requires enough humility to admit that today’s understanding might become tomorrow’s stepping stone.
I also think there is an important difference between conviction and certainty. My convictions have become stronger with time. I am deeply committed to kindness, clarity, responsibility, and creating harmony with horses. Those values haven’t changed. What has changed is my understanding of how to achieve them. Every horse has contributed something to that understanding, and every one of them has expanded my appreciation for how much there still is to learn.
Perhaps that is why, after all these years, horses continue to fascinate me. They never ask me to protect my ego. They simply ask me to pay attention. They reward observation over assumption, curiosity over certainty, and humility over pride.
I have come to believe that this mindset is one of the greatest advantages a person can develop, especially if they spend most of their time training on their own. Progress isn’t about having all the answers. It is about becoming the kind of horseman who keeps asking better questions.
If there is one thing I hope to offer the people who follow my work, it isn’t certainty. It is companionship on that journey. I hope to encourage people to keep observing, keep questioning, keep refining, and keep believing that there is always another layer of understanding waiting to be discovered. In my experience, that is where the most meaningful relationships with horses are found.
