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The freshly dragged area, with beautiful concentric circles, looked inviting. The double back doors were pushed to the edge of their tracks, as wide open as possible, inviting fresh air into the arena. They were open to air-out the smell of cat poop, since our barn cats used the arena as one of the world’s largest kitty litter boxes. Dragging the arena brought their firm little turds to the surface creating an odiferous atmosphere.
As we set up the roundpen for tomorrow’s program, Tam noticed some paw prints in the newly combed arena. We assumed they belonged to my Large Munsterländer, Desi. Deaf, with cataracts clouding her sight, and frail she shuffled her black and white long-haired self around looking for me. She was 17 years young now and prone to wandering outside of the invisible fence. She was no longer deterred by the shock or the noise from the fence, so would regularly travel around the yard outside the fence’s perimeter. Fortunately, the road was a long way away. Typically, we would discover that she had wandered before she got to the road, so we could nudge her back toward the house. Usually, she would turn on her own, meandering slowly back to safety.
The next morning, we finished up the final details in preparing for our program. This program was pretty low key. It was a demonstration for a cross-section of people who did not know each other, though each had expressed an interest in possibly hiring Kaleidoscope for their business, club, or organization. Today’s group included someone from a bank, someone from a local chamber of commerce, a representative from a computer company, and a couple of horse people that were curious about EAL.
In a two- and half-hour demo we often witnessed exchanges with the horses that years later people would tell me had a great impact. It might have been as simple as a horse that wouldn’t move when asked, representing something in their life where they felt stuck. When the person changed the way they asked, they invited forward movement. Or it might have been a limiting belief, or assumption, that became clear when we debriefed the activity. Bringing people from diverse backgrounds together, we balanced our time together by creating a shared experience, as well as an individual opportunity for awareness. These experiences validated the Tae Te Ching quote, “When the student if ready, the teacher appears.”
After finishing up in the conference room, we decided to let the horses out early. Diva and Al were first. They ran around bucking and kicking, which was pretty normal for these two. So, Tam and I left the arena, headed back to the stalls; I grabbed Tigger, while Tam brought in Mick and Min.
When we returned to the arena, D and Al were still running. This was unusual, because by now, they typically would have settled down to roll, enjoying the arena footing.
Tam and I gave each other concerned looks. Then, Tam suggested that maybe the paw prints didn’t belong to Desi. Maybe they were from a coyote. Tam recently saw a mangy coyote in my backyard when she was helping me with Desi, Kahlua, and Bella (my three dogs) while I was away on a business trip.
Whether it was a coyote or not didn’t really matter, because it wasn’t here now. This was a perceived danger by the horses. Their sense of smell told them that as a prey animal, they had recently been in close proximity of a predator which could mean death.
We decided to go ahead and release the remaining horses. Since Tigger was the lead mare, she could potentially calm everyone down through her reaction. Tigg, Mick, and Min joined in the fray for a few minutes until Tigg realized there was no actual danger, so she stopped running. The others witnessed her behavior, quickly decided it was safe, settling down. They had no reason to get away.
This experience of a perceived danger reminded me of another demo program. This demo was to introduce the two decision makers of a youth leadership program being provided through a local community college.
Joyce was petite Caucasian woman in her late 50’s. Ethel was a Black, averaged size woman, in her late 40’s. Both had Ph.D.’s, were highly accomplished in their individual fields, working for the college. Ethel, the director of the program delivering the leadership institute, hoped I’d bring horses to the college campus. She was enamored with the showmanship and “Wow Factor” of horses on campus. She was confident she could convince the President of the college that we could safely deliver EAL experiences with no risk to the students or damage to the campus grounds.
We invited them to halter Tigger, as an introductory activity. Tigger, was standing quietly by the gate, while Mickey and Minney wandered a bit in the arena sniffing the props strewn around. The four of us, Ethel, Joyce, Stacie and I, opened the squeaky gate, entering the pen. Ethel immediately stopped, turned to Joyce, Stacie, and me, declaring, “She doesn’t like me.”
There being no physical indication of dislike, such as pinned ears or leaving our space, I asked Ethel what made her think Tigger didn’t like her.
Ethel explained that she just “felt it.”
We shared with her that if Tigger really didn’t like her, or the situation, she would leave. It was her choice to stay with us. Because Tiggs didn’t leave, there wasn’t any evidence to support her claim of being disliked.
We then shared that if she believed she was disliked in this situation without evidence, it was possible that she was creating the same story of rejection in human interactions. While this insight was exactly what Ethel desired for the students, it was a much more uncomfortable experience to face her own limiting beliefs.
Ethel acknowledged that there may have been times when she assumed she was disliked. Without confirming that belief, she would remove herself from the situation, a perceived form of social danger, rather than move into the environment with curiosity.
She outwardly expressed confidence, agency, and leadership. She, and we, learned that day, there were deeper levels to her outward courage. It was, sometimes, a cover for fear of a perceived danger of rejection.
P.S. We got the job and for nearly twenty consecutive years took horses to the local college campus!
When has an invisible threat influenced a choice you made?
How did it impact the situation and your beliefs?
Do you still hold that belief? If you wanted to change it, what actions would you take?