ENGAGED LEARNING

ENGAGED LEARNING

Sitting around the light oak wooden kitchen table, five participants scanned their spiral notebooks.  Each selected different colored markers to decorate the cover and add their name.  The kitchen sat adjacent to the living room, where we could see a coffee and end tables piled high with papers, folders, and other clutter.  An orange tabby cat weaved in and out of our legs, bending its’ body and rubbing on us. While a black and white tuxedo kitty lounged on the back of a couch on top of a folded crocheted brightly colored afgan.

The participants were coming together for an Individual Women’s Series.  We held it at a friend of Stacie’s, Ina, at her Happy Hallow Ranch.  Ina was intrigued by the concept of partnering with horses for personal growth.   So, we worked out an arrangement to lease her house, indoor arena, and horses to host the five evening sessions from 6 p.m. to 9 p.m.  The themes for the sessions were:

            New Beginnings – Introduction to Self & Group

            Visioning – Creating Your Plan for the Future

            Setting Boundaries – The Power of Saying “No”

            Overcoming Obstacles & Barriers

            I Can, I Will, I Am

This sequence of sessions focused on investigating, understanding, and creating a personal vision statement.  We incorporated a variety of approaches designed to engage all the participants, independent of their learning styles and life experiences.  This included time for reflection, whole group dialogue, pair and share discussions, and journalling.  The workbook housed such items as a “Participants Bill of Rights”, an exercise designed to help identify values, and resources explaining how to manage complex change.        

Stacie and I began the first meeting by offering an overview of what we envisioned the program would look like each time we came together for our evening sessions.  Over light healthy snacks, we’d begin in the house with a discussion about the evening’s topic and a review of their experiences from the week prior.  After learning about each other’s insights, we’d move to the arena to partner with the horses.  The activities with the horses would build off of the discussion, focusing on the sessions’ theme.

Once everyone’s questions were answered, we bundled up, putting on hats, scarves, and gloves getting ready to brave the February Michigan weather.  We headed out into the cold, towards the unheated indoor arena where five furry horses were wandering around, sniffing and pawing the dirt.

While Andrea was still back at the house using the restroom, the four other ladies, our host Ina, and Stacie and I made small talk.  Someone asked about the horses, so Ina told the ladies about the backgrounds of her Egyptian Arabian horses.  The tallest, a mare about 15 years old, was blond in color.  Ina shared that she was a brood mare that has been part of her herd since the beginning. She mentioned that she is a real sweetheart and loves to be around people.  The second mare, who stood a little shorter, came to Ina’s herd later in life.   She’s almost twenty years old and could be really difficult to catch and halter.  The third horse was a gelding.  He was the son of the first horse.  Another “lifer” or one who has been on Ina’s farm since birth.  Horse four was another gelding, a solid black boy that Ina explained was originally part of her breeding program until she decided to geld him.  Lastly, there was a furry miniature horse that she bought when looking for a companion to an older blind mare who was no longer with us. 

When Andrea rejoined the group, I explained that similar to meeting and greeting each other in the kitchen, we were now going to meet and greet our horse partners.  Following the meet and greet activity and debrief, we moved into our next activity which was catch and halter.

We invited the five participants to pick a horse in their minds, though not tell anyone which horse they picked.  Then, we randomly put the group in line.  Each person would grab a halter from the pile, then halter their selected horse, leading them back to the line.  Simple right?  We explained the activity could provide us with a way to learn more about the thoughts behind everyone’s choices, as well as their decision-making in the event more than one person selected the same horse.

First to the pile of halters was Andrea.  She untangled a halter from the pile, marched straight towards the 20-year-old “hard to catch” mare.  She gently put the halter on her face, then led her back to the line, easy peasy.  The other participants stopped their own haltering, swiveled their heads to look surprisingly at each other and us.  What just happened?  According to Ina, this mare was supposed to be hard to catch?  Because Andrea wasn’t there when Ina shared that information, she held no pre-conceived notions about the catchability of the mare.

This opening experience set the tone for our entire time together.  The “accidental” opportunity to learn organically, collectively, and vulnerably created a container that instantly invited honest dialogue and sharing.  We had no way of knowing at the beginning that by bonding so quickly would lead to a life-changing final activity for Vicky.         

The last class of our series was an activity known in therapeutic sessions as “lie detector”. Each participant rides a horse, bareback, with a surcingle (a wide strap that runs over the back and under the belly of a horse) belt around the horses’ waist.  The rider then read the personal mission statement they created after four sessions of exploring boundaries, obstacles, and visioning.  The horse responded as a sensor or mirror to the person, reading the energy and congruence of the human.  

After a brief introduction of how to safely dismount a horse, we invited Vicky to mount the horse she selected.  She bent her left leg, into Stacie’s cupped hands, then swung the right one over the back of the horse.  Once on, she wiggled her bottom, settling into her seat for balance, then grasped the surcingle.  After handing me the reins, Stacie moved off to the side of the arena to observe.  I waited for her to move the horse.  My job was to support the rider by staying present, coaching her through the experience. That meant lightly holding the line, but not influencing the speed, direction, or movement of the horse. 

Vicky unfolded her notes, then began telling us that this story about her and her Dad.  She was visibly shaken.  The horse, Pharoh, stood perfectly still.  I invited her to take a couple deep breaths.  Once she finished the second breath, Pharoh walked forward as if he’s been given permission to move.  Vicky told us that her father unexpectantly died recently.  Clop.  Clop.  Clop.  Pharoh moved forward.  Then he stopped.  Vicky cried softly.  She dug a tissue out of her pocket to wipe her eyes, then blew her nose.  I asked her if she noticed that she’s not moving anymore?  She nodded her head yes, holding back more tears.  We stayed in this space for a bit longer. 

She then took another deep breath, re-engaging Pharoh in a walk.  We moved slowly around the arena.  She told us that the last phone conversation she had before her dad died was a fight.  He didn’t want her to take a job she was offered, explaining that he thought it was short-sighted, not giving her the freedom she craved.  She shared that she shouted back that it was her life; she would take the job if she thought that was the right thing to do. 

At this point Pharoh stopped again.  He had positioned himself so that he was in the corner looking at the wall.  I asked her to look up from the paper to see where Pharoh led her.  She started to cry even harder sharing that the wall in front of her felt like the wall of shame and guilt that she couldn’t get over.  She was struggling with finding a way to forgive herself for that last conversation with her Dad.  Vicky loved/s her Dad deeply, regretting not telling him that before he passed. 

After she was able to catch her breath, I asked if she believed in something larger than herself.  If her worldview included a God, or other spirit that she could speak to.  She said she did.  At this point, Pharoh turned from the wall, moving forward again.  Vicky, recognized that Pharoh was moving forward, which meant she could too!  She stated out loud that she was sorry, asking God and her Dad to forgive her.  She declared that she loved her Dad dearly, that she knew he always wanted what was best for her. 

The activity over, Vicky dismounted, threw her arms around his neck and hugged on Pharoh, thanking him for offering himself to her.  He gave a whole-body shake, releasing the tension he’d been carrying through the activity.  He then yawned, further letting go of the energy he’d held for her.

Share a time when you were engaged in learning something about yourself.  How did it feel in your body?  What did you notice about that feeling?

Did the feeling shift or change when you paid attention to it?

Is there anything from that experience that you can apply to something happening in your life today? 

What advise would you give your future self in or to create more engaged learning experiences? 

COMMUNITY

COMMUNITY

Talking over the buzz of the heaters in my indoor arena, I introduced seven elementary school teachers to our two miniature horses. Mickey and Minnie’s long shaggy coats made them appear twice as heavy, as if they were wearing puffy coats.  Their chin hairs feathered well below their jaw line and the hair from their legs covered the tops of their tiny hooves.  Our short “woolly mammoths” meandered around the arena, sniffing, then rolling in the dirt.  For a horse, a prey animal, rolling is a sign they are feeling safe enough to show their underbelly.  For us facilitators, it’s a sign the group energy is calm.

Our last activity of the day we invited the teachers, all women, to participate in an exercise called billiards.  It’s called billiards because at either end of the arena are two “pockets” or boxed-in areas defined by white pvc pipes. The stated goal is to get each of the horses in these pockets.  Each time a horse is in the pocket the team gets a point.  The REAL goal is for my co-facilitator and I to watch the interactions, responses, and decision-making of the participants.  How they work together to achieve the stated goal enables us to support them in improving their communication skills. 

This experiential activity can bring to light blind spots or barriers that may be getting in the way of the group being more effective, healthy, and happy.  We also pay close attention to the responses and reactions of our horse partners.  What is their energy level?  How are they engaged in the activity?  Do they connect with the participants or try to get away from them?    

We began the billiards activity by asking all the participants to create a single line.  Today, we asked them to create the order by eye color, darkest to lightest, without talking. In between snickers and giggles, each person looked into the others’ eyes, then shuffled into a line.  One person grabbed another by their coat and shifted someone else in front of them – clearly indicating they believed the second person’s eyes were a browner brown.

Once they were happy with their line, they turned to Stacie and I, indicating they were ready to get started.  We then moved the established line nearer the arena wall between two black buckets with handles filled with water.  We instructed the group that one of the rules of the activity was they were required to stay between the buckets. We explained that each person would be given a turn to leave the line, move into the area where Mickey and Minnie were wandering, then try to get a horse into a pocket without touching them.  We told them that after three minutes, we would call “time” indicating the next person’s turn. 

Typically, a group will start with the individual leaving the line, independently trying to get a horse into a pocket.  After watching a few unsuccessful attempts by individuals, it can become clear to those further down the line that there may be other alternatives.  One possibility might be inviting the group to move as a whole line with the people on each end holding the buckets.  This means that they are still between the buckets, thus, not breaking the rule.  We’ve witnessed groups figure this part out yet not consider emptying the water!  We plant this “seed” by repeatedly reminding the group that they must stay between the buckets, even though they haven’t made any attempt to break free from them.    

Person number one left the line and started chasing the horses, trying to move them toward the pockets.  Mick and Min took off running, moving away from the pressure of the person chasing them.  The horses ran, one behind the other, in a circle, completely avoiding the pvc piped areas at the ends of the arena.  Time.  Person one shrugged at the people in the line before taking her place at the end of the line.  Person two left the line, picking up where her peer left off.  More horse running.  More dust kicked up into the air.  Time.  Person two gets back in line while person three runs into the horse space, continuing the same approach.  After each round of being chased, Mick and Min stand still, panting, trying to catch their breath. They huff and puff, their little chests heaving in and out, with pink tongues dangling from their mouths.

Participant number four recognized the ponies are getting overworked; because she can talk without a consequence during her turn, she announces to her colleagues that she isn’t going to chase them.  She tells her co-workers that she’s going to give the horses a chance to catch their breath. Time. Person five takes off from the line, running after the horses, ignoring the approach by the previous teacher.  Mickey and Minnie try to find a place to stop, rather than run, but this person is in hot pursuit!  The arena blowers have been running since we began, bringing the temperature in the arena to a balmy 65 degrees, even though it is near zero outside.     

Let’s call person five Donna.  Donna had been a teacher a long time.  As stated above, when her turn came to get the horses into the pockets she chased, pushing them as much as possible.  She was determined to reach the goal of horses in pockets.  After watching her, Stacie and I got really concerned for our horses.  We were afraid of them overheating.  The heavy hair coats could lead to sweating, then chills or something worse. In light of the physical risk to the horses, I called an end to the activity, explaining to everyone we had to stop for the safety of the horses. Everyone except Donna looked relieved. Donna looked confused.  The other teachers tried to gently explain to Donna that she was pushing the horses too hard.  She denied doing anything wrong, explaining (justifying?) she was simply working to reach the goal imposed by the facilitators.

Let’s step away from the horse activity for a brief moment to give some context.  This educational in-service training took place in the early 2000’s.  A time when “No Child Left Behind” was in place.  This federal educational initiative is now recognized as a failed attempt which held schools accountable for student performance.  “Teaching to the test” became school culture in order to get federal funding. 

Donna was just a year and a half shy of retirement.  It was clear to us based on earlier conversations that she wasn’t going to risk tarnishing her retirement goal by going “soft” on kids.  She’d been an elementary teacher for 30 + years and she “knew” what worked for her students.  She dug her heels into what she believed mattered, goal focused, blind to any unintended consequences. Our awareness of her worldview and her earlier denial led us to believe that Donna wouldn’t acknowledge her role in stressing out and potentially harming Mickey and Minnie.   So, we shifted our processing of the horse activity toward life outside the arena. 

I started by inquiring about the ownership each individual has in situations where one witnesses a behavior you don’t agree is the best choice.  Stace added that she wondered if anyone in the group had ever witnessed someone doing something they considered potentially harmful.  If they ever thought to themselves, that’s not how I would handle the situation.  All heads nodded affirmatively.

“What did you decided to do?”  I inquired.

The woman in the red cowboy boots shared that she remembered a time when her fellow second grade teacher experienced a challenging situation with a student who kept disrupting class.  Her peers response was to remove him from the classroom.  When this teacher learned of her partner-teacher’s disciplinary action, she shared that she, too, found this particular student challenging.  Boots suggested that an effective approach that worked for her was to talk to the student, helping him understand the impact of his behavior on the rest of the class.  She further communicated that once he felt he had the support of his teacher, he was more willing to work on paying attention, thus his disruptions lessoned. 

“Thank you for that example” Stacie said. 

“Let’s unpack what the circumstances that made it comfortable enough for you to offer your advice.  Would you say that you have a good relationship with the other second grade teacher?” I inquired.

“Yes, we’ve worked together for six years.” She responded.

“What words would you use to describe your relationship?” I asked.

“Trusting.  We’re both focused and committed to what’s best for the kids – all the kids – you know, on the same page so to speak.” She explained. 

Without naming Donna’s behavior specifically, we had invited discussion about ownership, responsibilities, and choices.  The other teachers seemed aware that Donna treated her students similar to the ways she treated my horses.  It was likely they all had witnessed her goal-focused behavior, regardless of the harm to her students. We wrapped up the conversation by sharing one of our favorite mantra’s, “change what you can and let the rest go.”  The energy in the debriefing conversation changed, from tense to curious, when the other teachers recognized their responsibility was to focus on what they could do, not what they couldn’t.    

We are all a part of a variety of communities.  Recall a time when someone in your inner circle trusted your relationship enough to share with you something that was difficult to hear.

What did you learn from that exchange that impacts your life today?

Can you imagine a time in the future where the lessons learned from that exchange will be helpful?

BOUNDARIES

BOUNDARIES

My draft mare and soul horse, Tigger, trained me very well to give her scratches before she left her stall each morning.  To get a sense of her size, I’m 5’5” and can’t see over the middle of her back.  Each time I’d go into her stall, dangling halter in hand, she’d drop her huge head and wait – all 1,800 pounds of huggable, furry, immovable, horse standing solidly asking for me to give her some love. Most days this action brought me pure joy, providing me a moment of being fully present.

Then there were the times when I was running late and “had” to get horses out NOW.  My tardiness did not matter one iota to this gentle giant.  To get her forward movement I would be required to take the time to let her know I loved her – even briefly – before those dinner plate sized feet were going to cross the entrance of her stall.  What a gift she gave me – a required time to pause, even if I didn’t want to or think it was the priority at the time. 

The behavior of stopping to be scratched before leaving her stall was a complete waste of time to my barn manager, Tam.  Tam believed Tigger’s request was the opposite of joyful.   For this life-long horse woman, it was straight-up disrespectful.  She would insist that Tigger move out of her stall when asked.  Tam wasn’t real happy with me either, since I’m the one that created, and actively supported, this bad-mannered behavior!     

Tiggs size is not the predominant factor in her getting her way in our exchange.  It was a combination of her asking and my willingness to respond to her request.  Animals training their humans can take many forms.  Kunigunda is my 8.8 lb. rescue dog who also has me well trained (I’m seeing a pattern here?!).  This little white ball of fluff that looks like a toy instead of real dog, has figured out that when I am on the phone, or a zoom call, if she barks and bats at me with her tiny paws that I will give her treats.  This behavior has been repeatedly rewarded to the point that to be able to participate, without incessant background barking, I have to remove her, shutting the doors to my office!

For those of us in the equine world, getting even the slightest lean (physical shift) into a scary wash rack or horse-eating trailer is a positive result when you are asking a frightened horse to move forward.   One rewards their desired behavior by taking the pressure off, in hopes that the horse will move farther in the desired direction the next time we try.  Horse training is always best when it is on the horse’s timeframe.  Meaning, there’s a core belief with all the horse-people I know that you never end a training session where the horse “wins”.  A horse win could be the equine not moving forward or even backing up further away from your goal.  The human must stay committed to the horse’s learning.  Though if the goal is a full step into the washrack or trailer and time is running out, you’ll take the lean as a win, calling it good. 

You may be wondering why horses would be so frightened of a washrack or horse trailer.  Put yourself in this prey animals’ hooves.  Usually wash stalls are dark, so are the insides of horse trailers.  Both sort of look like the entrance to a cave.  In a horse’s mind there could be a cougar, lion, or other meat-eating animal crouching inside that black space.  Better to avoid it in order stay alive.

What does “lean in” look like in a human context?  Much has been written and researched regarding human decision-making, which usually begins with self-awareness.  The depth of information is vast, from physical considerations like brain research, to mindsets, personality types, learning styles, as well as the effects of various experiences, such as trauma (big T and little t). 

Speed of movement is also something to pay attention to when working with horses.  Managing the optimum speed for the best results.  One solution to a horse moving forward too quickly is to turn them. Let’s say you’re out on a trail ride on your horse.  Beautiful day, slight breeze, puffy white clouds on a bright blue background, chirping birds.  Calmly walking your horse enjoying nature’s bounty.  Along comes one of the world’s scariest creatures.  A squirrel swiftly darts across the path in front of you, startling your noble steed.  Your horse bolts, taking off at a dead run for the safety of the barn. 

You hang on, seeking an open space to be able to turn your horse.  If you’re riding with a bridle, the rider can literally pull a rein (right or left) to make the horse stop going straight.  This redirection pulls them back in their body.  By bending instead of simply running straight, they are forced to pay attention.  Once you have their attention, then the human can work with their horse to reset themselves in order to walk calmly back on the trail. 

One human equivalent to pulling on a rein or re-direction yourself is grounding.  Deep breathing is one way to get grounded, accessing your vagal nerves.  The vagal nerves carry signals between your brain, heart, and digestive system. They’re a key part of your parasympathetic nervous system.  Your parasympathetic nervous system controls “rest and digest” functions. It’s the opposite of your sympathetic nervous system’s “fight or flight” response.

When considering self-awareness, there are many tools, techniques, assessments, and resources to help an individual craft an accurate (at that time) profile of the self.  Tools are devices designed to carry out a function, while techniques are how you use them.  For instance, say you’ve got a lead rope or leash, that’s your tool.  Your success depends on how you use it, that’s the technique. 

Self-awareness is a moving target, evolving as we discover, learn, and grow. If you choose to use feedback from others as a means of increasing your self-awareness, be certain to consider the others’ motives, their role, and incentives.  Feedback is always about the sender, it may or may not be about the receiver.    

Additionally, there are alternative theories, healing modalities, and spiritual practices that humans hold which invite movement or action.  I’m referring to invisible energy fields, the power of prayer, reiki, meditation, etc.  There is increasing science behind how thoughts, emotions, and beliefs have healing power.  There is a fascinating link between consciousness and human connection, as well as the relationship between suppressed emotions and disease.   

Given all of the aforementioned variables, it’s easy to understand why boundary setting can be challenging.  The complexity of setting boundaries, whether for a horse that requests scratches, a puppy that begs for treats, or a friend that takes advantage of you is just that, complex.

Think of the lean-in, horse or human, as a “try”.  With horses, it can be easy to  reward the try.  Give yourself the same grace.  When you lean in, reward your try, then seek to move further into that horse-eating washrack tomorrow.

Recall a time where you set a healthy boundary.  What conditions were present that enabled you to set that boundary?

Is there a current situation where you are feeling taken advantage of?  What do you think you can leverage for the situation to change to be better for you?

What actions are you going to try and who will hold you accountable?

BLINDSPOT

BLINDSPOTS

Sitting in white plastic stackable chairs in a garage area attached to the horses’ stalls, we exchange small talk about the weather, children, and our plans for the coming weekend.  Above the concrete floor, shelves are filled with horse stuff, bags of Purina miniature horse and pony feed, tubs of supplements, buckets, a hose, plus a variety of toys and tools. 

We’ve been hired by Kim, an insurance company manager.  She and her therapist husband also offer equine-assisted services.  She asked us to deliver this program for her “real job” because she recognized her department was struggling with communication issues, creating conflict among her team members.

She’d invited us to her farm where they raise miniature horses.  Amber and I, along with five other women, were waiting for the final team member, George, to join us.  The ladies, ranging in age from 20’s to early 50’s were fashionably dressed.  Most are wearing colored cowboy boots and puffy coats.  From the deep sighs, to fidgeting and noticeable frustration, one could feel the tension as the start time slowly ticked further away. 

George hurriedly made his entrance and apologized profusely to the group.  He awkwardly plops down in the remaining open chair, then ran his fingers through his unruly hair.  The people seated who have been waiting for him sort of politely murmured back, then all turned to look at Amber and me.  We take their cue, welcoming everyone to the team development program, thanking Kim for inviting us to share her lovely farm.  We emphasized how much we appreciated her trusting us to be able to help them reach their communication goals.

Following our opening sequence of meet & greet and horse safety, we move into the next bit which is an introduction to Peter Senge’s Ladder of Inference.  His work informs us that we live in a world of self-generating beliefs which remain largely untested. We adopt those beliefs because they are based on conclusions, which are inferred from what we observe, plus our past experience. Our ability to achieve the results we truly desire is eroded by our feelings that:

• Our beliefs are the truth.

• The truth is obvious.

• Our beliefs are based on real data.

• The data we select are the real data

It’s one of my favorite tools to help visually represent that people find evidence to support what they’ve already decided. Below is part of the handout we shared. Climb the ladder with me, like we did with our six group members:

1)      The meeting was called at 9:00 a.m.  John didn’t arrive until 9:30 a.m. and he didn’t say why.

2)      John knew exactly when the meeting was to start.  He deliberately came in late.

3)      John always comes in late.

4)      We can’t count on John. He’s unreliable. 

After reading this first example one could hear a pin drop!  Why?  Because we had just experienced this exact scenario with George arriving late.  Each of the team members swiveled their heads, looking left and right at each other.  Did they just climb the ladder?  Let’s unpack this…

·        Did they start with observable data?   Yes, George arrived late.

·        Did they select some details about George’s behavior?  Maybe he’d seemed to be uncomfortable and somewhat flustered.

·        Did they add their own meaning?  Could they have reminded themselves of other times George was late?

·        Did they move to assumptions that George didn’t care that he was late?  He didn’t explain WHY he was late.  To be fair, nobody bothered to ask him either.

·        Did they then reach the “logical” conclusion that George isn’t a team player and he’s the reason they have communication problems.  Heck, maybe the whole reason Kim is requiring them to take a day off from work to spend time on better communication is all because of George’s behavior.

Amber and I look at each other, smiling, silently agreeing “let’s move into this”.  We modelled the healthy behavior of getting curious by asking,

“We just shared a similar experience, with George’s late arrival.  Did any of you climb the ladder?”

After a few minutes of awkward silence, Kim spoke up, admitting that she did. The remaining group members nod their heads affirmatively, sheepishly admitting that they did too.  George is their tech guy, so he explained that there was an emergency that needed his attention.  One of the participants lowered her head, commenting that she’s sorry she judged him, assuming he was late because he didn’t care about the rest of the team.   

Kim then asks, “George why were you late this time?”  Notice the “this time” added to the question.  The addition of calling out that there were past experiences with George attending late tells Amber and I that there is more to this story.  George doesn’t verbally respond to the “this time” part of the question, though he shrinks down a little in his chair making himself smaller.  He then explains,

“I know how important this day is to you, Kim.  You’ve been excited and talking about it since you first scheduled it for us.  It’s just that if I didn’t solve this server problem this morning we’d have bigger problems when we returned from the training.  I had to make a decision in the moment.  I’m sorry to have let you all down.” 

The ladder of influence affects all our decisions.  It all seems so reasonable, happening so quickly, that we aren’t even aware we’ve climbed the ladder.  Because it takes place in our head, the process is not visible to anyone else, unless we make it so.  Neuroscience tells us that the more we follow a decision-making pathway in our head, the deeper the groove or neuropathway becomes in our brains, so the more we believe what we’ve already decided.  The only way to reroute this “truth” is through inquiry, staying present, and considering other options. 

“Okay, then,” I say, standing up, shifting the focus away from this awkward conversation.  “It’s time to see what our horse partners can teach us.”  For this next activity we invite each of you to catch and halter a horse, without talking, then lead your horse for a while. Think of this as a whole group activity.  I encourage you to expand your definition of success beyond your individual goal of getting a horse haltered.” 

The energy in the group feels more inclusive, with all six of the participants, including George, moving toward the pasture where a herd of seven miniature horses wait.  As we walk outside, Amber and I excitedly whisper to each other in anticipation that the horses are going to help us explore their relationships further.

Before walking through the gate, each individual grabs a halter from us, then enters the pen.  The horses all rush toward the people to see if they have any treats for them. We imposed a “not talking without a consequence rule” so the people shuffle around, sorting out who will take what horse, by pointing and motioning to each other.  Once each person identifies which horse they are going to halter the participants are in various stages of trying to put the halter over the ears, buckle the chinstrap, and figuring out which part of the halter goes where. 

George is having the most trouble.  He can’t seem to find the top of the halter and every time he tries to put it on his horses’ head the black and white pinto pony walks away.  Everyone else is so busy with their own horses that they aren’t paying attention to George.  Amber and I whisper to each other that this scenario is just like this morning.  George is on his own, with nobody noticing that he’s struggling.

I raise my hand, inviting everyone to stop what they are doing.  Then, facing the group, I ask,

“Hey everyone, this is a good point to notice what’s happening.  Are you successful?” 

The five people standing with horses haltered all nod an affirmative “yes”.  George is standing absently holding his halter, while the pinto is on the other side of the pen. 

Amber asks, “So your definition of success was each of you reaching your individual goal, not all the group members accomplishing the task?”

The ladies look around, discovering what they hadn’t noticed earlier, that George and his horse weren’t even near each other.  One can almost hear the “Awe Sh*t” when they realize the group left George on his own, that they had not offered him support. 

Amber’s question opened the door for rich discovery of ways they can transfer this learning experience back to their office.  Kim, seizing the opportunity, moved to the front of the group. She suggested we walk back to the garage space to start capturing the lessons learned on a flip chart, creating a list of new best practices to take back to the office.   

Share a time when you climbed the ladder.  What were your blindspots?  Why did you think you held those beliefs?

Do you currently practice staying curious and present?  What are some of the conditions that support this behavior?  How do you feel when you realize you have assumed or jumped to conclusions which may not be accurate (note: I did not write “true”, truth can be relative to the individual)

What can you do in the future to be more fully engaged in the moment?

PRESENCE

PRESENCE

I met Stacie Johnson through the horse trainer, Sunny, at Six Oaks Farm where I planned to board a new horse.  At 40 years old I was looking for a rideable pleasure horse.  I knew Morgans from my past years showing as a kid, though was open to other similar breeds such a Quarter Horse or Arabian.  Stacie is an Arab girl, specifically, Egyptian Arabians, having bred and raised them for most of her adult life.  So naturally, she found a healthy, middle-aged, Egyptian Arab gelding; a former endurance horse that the owner was looking to sell. 

Stacie and I drove together to the owner’s house excitedly learning more about each other, exploring our shared interest in partnering with horses to help human development.  Stacie is a licensed mental health professional who provides therapy for people through a typical office practice.  She’d worked with a variety of populations, though never heard about equine-assisted services.  She almost couldn’t believe that there was a modality that combined her two passions, helping people AND partnering with horses! 

 I was introduced to equine-assisted learning (EAL) during my Ph.D. program.  The doctorate I earned was based on creating an individual development plan, which allowed participants the opportunity to attend conferences, workshops, etc., then create courses from those experiences.  Because of this learner-centered approach, I attended an equine-assisted retreat and one large conference. Now that I completed my degree it was time to start offering opportunities for other people to experience EAL with me facilitating.  Stacie agreed to be my equine-specialist/co-facilitator in this new endeavor.      

 As I turned into the bumpy dirt driveway, we could see two brown mid-sized horses, grazing in the pasture behind an old two-story farmhouse.  The owner was a typical rural neighborhood horse owner, jeans, boots, cowboy hat and an attitude that implied he knew everything about horses.  He and Stace were acquaintances, which is how she knew about Al. When we arrived at his farm, I didn’t pay much attention to the human exchanges; it was all about the horse for me. 

 I hadn’t been around horses in over ten years and was feeling scared, unsure of myself as a horseperson.  Thankfully, Stacie was encouraging, and I trusted her advice, even though we were just beginning our life-long friendship. We all walked into the back pasture where Al and the other horse, a mare, were loose in the field.  When we approached Al, the mare pinned her ears flat back and began to “run block” putting herself between the humans (the owner, Stacie, and me) and her gelding friend, Al.  I didn’t recognize the mares’ behavior as significant at the time because I was too in my own head about whether or not Al was the horse for me.

 Looking back, I now know that there was an opportunity here to facilitate an EAL experience.  You see, EAL sessions can happen organically, simply by bringing horses and humans together in shared space.  In its’ broadest sense, an EAL experience is when you facilitate or explore, the beliefs, theories, and assumptions between both the horses’ behavior and the humans’ choices. 

 Stacie and I weren’t yet trained in the EAL learning modality.  I’d been exposed to EAL through a couple of conferences.  The journey into all things equine-assisted was just beginning.  In the next twenty-five years, I would go from attending conferences, to presenting at them, to providing training programs, to becoming EAL faculty, to integrating EAL into non-equine college courses, to winning several awards for my work. 

Stacie and the owner responded to the mares’ interfering by haltering her, removing her from our interaction with Al.   The mare being able to push Al around meant he was lower in the hierarchy than she was.  This fact could be relevant if I was adding a new horse to an existing herd.  If you’ve got a herd with a dominant lead mare, one who has a strong sense of their leadership, then there typically is not a problem adding a lower-level herd member.  If your situation includes bullies higher up the ladder, then it’s possible the lower-level herd member will become ill, hurt, or wither because of the rejection.  Horses and humans are similar in our social contracts.  We depend on others in our community, basing our relationships partially on mutual respect, as well as effective and clear communication.

 The owner stood holding the haltered mare, then asked me if I wanted to ride.  Many horse owners love to ride.  Even as a kid, nationally showing Morgans, riding was a means to an end for me, not something I did purely for fun.  I rarely fell off, though never felt as though I achieved a natural “seat”.  I practiced enough over the years from age twelve to seventeen to be a decent rider, winning one contest out of many, the Mid-Atlantic Morgan Horse Show in Pennsylvania.    

Stacie, sensing my fear, offered to ride Al first.  After the owner threw on a western saddle and snaffle bit bridle, he announced that we could “take him for a spin.”  Stacie easily swung her leg up over his back, settled into the seat, and walked him off.  She asked him to trot by squeezing her legs, moving him into a faster gate.  They trotted around the pasture a bit, then came back to where I was standing watching. 

Now it was my turn to ride.  I nervously gathered the reins at his neck, then swung my leg over the saddle.  I relaxed into the saddle, asking him to walk by applying a little pressure with my legs.  Al moved forward slowly.  I took a deep breath, looked around, flooded by memories of the hundreds of hours I spent in a saddle in my youth.  Muscle memory is a funny thing.  My fear diminished as I eased into the rocking sensation of Al’s footsteps on the hard earth.

I pulled back gently on the reins, asking him to stop, adding a “whoa” for good measure.  Al stopped, letting me dismount, boot-clad feet landing firmly on the ground.       

Reflecting on my first introduction to Al, one thing I remember most is looking into Al’s eyes and making a heartfelt connection.  His gaze seemed to be an appeal.  It was as though he was asking me to remove him from his current situation. Between his look and his name, the decision to buy Al was easy. Why was I so enamored with a horse named The Alkkhmist.  Alchemy is “a power or process that changes or transforms something in a mysterious or impressive way”. 

 The mission of Kaleidoscope was/is to partner with equines to help people transform into the best version of themself.  Starting the business with Al seemed as though our collaboration was destiny; a sign that Kaleidoscope had an optimistic future.  Launching a business is scary, especially when you’ve never done it, nor has anyone in your family.  Believing in messages from a higher power has guided me throughout my life, and finding The Alkkhmist sure seemed like a good sign! 

 Al, was, and still is, a companion.  There is a picture of him in every room in my office!  While he is no longer on this earthly plane, his spirit guides me and continues to help me transform.  He was aptly named The Alkkhmist, forever representing an invisible magical force in my life and work.

Have you had an experience where something magical or unexpected happened.  What are your beliefs about being present in that experience?

Do you have practices, habits, or rituals that you embrace to invite more presence?  What are they and how do they make you feel?

Is there something missing in your practice that you’d like to change or invite into future experiences?  What actions are you going to take to create more presence in your life?

PERSONAL POWER

PERSONAL POWER

In 2005 Rochester Institute of Technology (RIT) accepted my proposal to offer an equine-assisted learning (EAL) session for their Pluralism Conference.  RIT is where I earned a master’s degree and was a faculty member for several years.  Our proposal was accepted because we explained that horses respond to a person as they show up in relationship with them.  They frankly don’t care if you have money, status, or a title such as CEO, President, or the biggada boss.  Understanding that difference is our only opportunity for learning (Michael Broom) invites infinite possibilities and curiosity.  We, then, have agency and can offer the same to others, seeking to leverage the positive for mutually beneficial outcomes. 

We, my equine specialist and friend, Sara and I, secured a barn and horses near the RIT main campus.  A group of eight students from RIT’s National Technical Institute for the Deaf, their interpreter, and a RIT faculty member chose to spend the afternoon with us.  We began the EAL experience in our standard way with “meet and greet” experiential activities for both horses and humans.  Creating connection before content is a core value of Kaleidoscope’s programming. 

We were in an indoor horse arena with a large open area where horses were walking, sniffing the ground, and settling into the space together.  The humans are nearby, separated from the horses by a corral.  The humans are invited to enter the horse’s space and greet each one however they feel comfortable.  A greeting can be from a distance, just making eye contact, or close, including friendly scratches for the horses. Not only is the approach decided by each individual, we also do not prescribe anything about the exchanges, such as how long, only one person per horse at a time, etc.   Our lack of specific direction allows us, as facilitators, to witness the choices made by the participants.  Do they pay attention to how their actions impact others’ experiences?  How do the horses respond – do they move away or toward anyone?  What is the energy of the experience – is it heightened and frantic or calm and peaceful?      

The second activity we invited participants to experience was “catch and halter”.  The sequence of meet and greet – just being in a shared space for horses and humans - to asking something of each other, haltering, moves both beings from strangers into building relationships.  One of our jobs as facilitators is to create a place where humans, who may be unfamiliar with hanging out with 1,200-pound hooved animals, get more comfortable.  There’s a sweet spot creating engaged learning environments, which is just outside the comfort zone in the learning edge.  Not everyone’s “edge” is the same, so there is some mastery in managing this space for all the participants. 

For catch and halter, the participants were invited to halter the horses.  A halter is designed to go over the horses’ ears, with the horses’ nose in the center and a snap or tie under the throat.  Again, the participants were not given any specific instructions, nor were they shown the “correct” method of putting on a halter.  We designed this activity to support a learning philosophy of “no right or wrong, just different”.  And the students did not disappoint!  Halters were put on upside down, lead ropes were clipped to the sides of the halter, instead of the bottom; truly many creative alternatives to the standard way of haltering a horse!  Thankfully, our four-legged facilitators stood calmly and allowed for all sorts of learning to safely take place. 

An additional element to the activity is we invited the participants to take part in haltering without talking.  If they talked then they would have a consequence of their choosing.  Because this was the first time we worked with a deaf population, we engaged in an open conversation about what “talking” meant.  It was mutually decided that our rule meant no verbal communication or sign language would be allowed without a consequence.

Nonverbal communication is critical to all animals. While many humans may think they are primarily responding to verbal communication, significant research has shown that we instinctually and unconsciously read and react to nonverbal signals in greater proportion than the spoken word. Horses and other animals are masters at reading subtle changes in body language and other nonverbal cues. For example, a horse’s ears tell you many things about their mood, where their attention is, and in combination with their eyes they can be very expressive and interpretive.  Learning to understand the subtle cues of the equine language requires focus in a way that can help people really “see what they are looking at,” inviting one to stay in the present moment.  

One of the most interesting take-aways from this session was that the individual most challenged by our “no talking rule” was the student’s interpreter.  She shared how she struggled with not being able to fulfill her role as a communicator for the students.  Was this because more of her identity and sense of self was tied to the limitation or rule imposed? 

How often do we inadvertently put ourselves in a similar situation to what the interpreter was feeling?  Meaning, where do we experience limiting beliefs that get in our way of moving forward and threaten our sense of self?  One of the reasons that EAL can be so powerful to human development is because we create a safe place to practice challenges, barriers, and constraints such as imposing a no talking rule.   We then debrief, allowing for reflection and insight into alternative choices.  This opportunity is important because, “We see the world not as it is, rather we see it as we are” (Anaïs Nin).     

Each of us has abilities and disabilities, some visible and most invisible.  These aspects of who we “are” constantly changes, evolves, and informs our actions both consciously and unconsciously.  This is why the adage, that “actions speak louder than words” holds true.  The more self-aware we become the better the chances are that we will make decisions that are congruent with our intentions. 

Where does our personal power have the most impact?  Eistein offers us insight… A human being is a part of the whole that we call the universe, a part limited in time and space. He experiences himself, his thoughts and feelings, as something separated from the rest--a kind of optical illusion of his consciousness. This illusion is a prison for us, restricting us to our personal desires and to affection for only the few people nearest us. Our task must be to free ourselves from this prison by widening our circle of compassion to embrace all living beings and all of nature. ~ Albert Einstein

 Recall a time when the story you told yourself reduced or eliminated your personal power.  What happened? What helped you recognize that you had abdicated your power?

Do you have practices or rituals that help support your in maintaining your power?

Is there a situation you anticipate in the future where you are at risk of allowing your power to be diminished?  What can you do proactively to maintain your power?