|
Some folk might wonder what the heck I’m doing when they come upon me standing around the arena with a dopey-looking horse. Usually, I’m waiting. Breathing and waiting. Giving the horse the opportunity for its nervous system to fully process whatever just happened. What just happened could have been as simple as my picking up the lead rope, introducing a tool (flag/whip/tarp etc) into our shared space, asking the horse to move in a certain way, or someone else entering/leaving the arena. We are very much human doings rather than human beings. For us to stop and wait, pay attention to subtle signs and appreciate the amount of stuff going on all around us, is a big challenge. The more time we spend in urban settings and plugged into electronic devices, the harder it is to let go of the urge to do something. We are driven by the general social pressures for constant achievement. In the horse world, this often translates to the most well-meaning human partners unintentionally and unconsciously 'shouting' at their horse friends. To be in communication with a horse means being fully aware of one's own body, posture, movements, projected energy and so forth. If you hang out watching the herd – whether that’s two horses or the whole gang, the signals and communications are constant and generally very subtle. The slightest shift in weight, tail flick, ear swivel, alteration in facial expression, lip tightening etc – all messages being exchanged back and forth. Often horses are described as ‘stubborn’, ‘lazy’, ‘spooky’, ‘disrespectful’. In my experience they are generally horses that either do not feel heard, seen, or understood, or they are physically suffering in some way. They do not feel part of a conversation, rather the subject of a stream of demands. Once the horse stops feeling ‘seen or heard’, they give up trying to communicate. Often this is misinterpreted as a docile or well-trained horse. This is learned helplessness rather than willing compliance. They have learned they do not have a say, there is no out for them. Perhaps one day it all becomes too much, or something happens that surprises and frightens them, they have not been taught how to deal with that unexpected occurrence and they 'explode for no reason'. The horse’s survival instinct is to show no pain, to not appear vulnerable to predation or separation from the herd. This means it’s easy to overlook a niggling discomfort which may become a bigger issue. Often a horse will not be lame as such, but has structural issues that prevent them moving freely and fully. Sometimes easy to help, other times not so much. There is no guaranteed success when dealing with another sentient being, but in my work, I try to empower the horse, to give the horse the tools to move their body in a way that promotes physical and mental relaxation and thus a more harmonious relationship with their humans. The horse can take learned knowledge into their everyday lives, they gain from the relationship, learning how to live more fully in the world of humans. They are given tools with which they can overcome deeply ingrained survival instincts to run like stink, fight like crazy, or freeze up in order to stay alive. They get time to relax, soften their body, let go of tension and thereby free up their minds for deeper, better learning. Come and play sometime. Be prepared to do less.  
0 Comments
|