DESIRE2
“Trusting the process” is a phrase that is imbedded in most experiential facilitation and most definitely in all Kaleidoscope programming. Some of the most magical experiences have been when we recognize a learning opportunity that emerges, outside of the desired program outcomes. A time that magic happened was when a local social services agency worked with us to provide a three-prong program; we designed two half-day staff trainings at my farm, which sandwiched a program at their facility for the youth they served.
Following the first staff training at Kaleidoscope, the next phase was to introduce the 80 residential boys, over two seven-hour days, to our horses. This part of the program scared with living crap out of me! We would be going behind barbed wire fences dealing with locked up offenders of both sexual criminal conduct, or as a result of being in the juvenile justice or foster care system. Many had behavioral issues such as aggression, self-harm, or substance abuse. These students lived as inmates in a 24/7 locked down, gated, guarded facility.
Stacie and Amber, both licensed mental health professionals, were giddy with delight. They knew and loved helping this population. Their desire to help the kids and my desire to help the adults, was a beautiful marriage of our strengths in partnering with horses to help all sorts of humans.
Rules from the agency included: No compacts, purses, pins, lipstick, chains, jewelry, earrings, barrettes or combs, bandanas, or sunglasses. No glass or metal. Nothing in our pockets. No pencils or pens. No touching. No second chances! Anything missing, everything stops. Nothing happens until we find what is missing. Clothing – no tight pants, shorts, and blouses must be buttoned all the way up. Truck keys should be turned into the agency.
Staff for each of the hallways, North, South, East and West, were invited to share in the experience by standing outside the roundpen while the boys rotated in and out of the activity. The staff that had more general roles, such as the teachers, watched as long as their schedules would allow.
We divided the groups of 6-8 boys into pairs, so that Amber and Stacie could have one-on-one experiences with each of the 80 residents. The participants’ task was to halter and lead, then groundtie the horse. Basically, a “walk and talk” horse, client, and therapist just hanging out, leaning into the experience.
This population was numbed by not being seen or heard, having been traumatized repeatedly. The expertise of our facilitators, Stacie and Amber, coupled with the openings created by leading (or trying to lead) a horse provided opportunities in mere minutes that could take days or longer to accomplish in a talk therapy setting. The required presence of the client, in a new and unfamiliar situation, along with the perceived risk of partnering with a horse, reinforced a trusting relationship with Stacie and Amber by virtue of the kid agreeing to even step into the roundpen with them.
For the most part, rock solid Tigger and Charlie, were more interested in the grass than the kids. They respectfully lifted their heads when asked politely or continued to eat when the boy did not make his intention or “ask” clear. This allowed Amber and Stacie to process the interaction, bridging the horse experience to other “asks” in the kids’ lives, focusing on the results of their actions. In their short time together, these experienced facilitators helped the inmates better understand how the story behind their actions influenced outcomes; opening the possibility of changing the story, thus changing the outcomes.
It was interesting to see the boys come out of the blond brick building, turn the corner, to see Tigger. Some of them threw up their arms, feigned a heart attack (ala Fred Sanford of Sanford and son) exaggerated their responses at the size of her, most never having been near a horse, let alone a draft horse.
My main job was supporting the boys who were waiting their turn or who had already had a chance to partner with the horses. Several of the kids would eagerly tell me about their dogs, thinking that the relationship with their canine friends was similar to spending time with horses. I patiently repeated, for the umpteenth time, that horses were prey animals, while dogs and humans are predators.
On day two, the adults that had been there most of the time started to get more comfortable, becoming familiar with our routine. The more comfortable the adults got, the more uncomfortable I got. I remember one incident in particular, when a tall, quiet, black kid said he did not want to go in with the horses. A younger teacher who had been on the sidelines with me both days, said
“DeShawn you’ve got to go in there. You may never get another chance like this to be so close to a horse.”
DeShawn answered, “Naw, Man, I ain’t interested”.
The teacher pushed harder, “You’ll REALLY regret dude. This is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.”
DeShawn moved further away from the group and the roundpen, vigorously shaking his head NO.
The back and forth exchange between the two went on for a few more rounds, with other teachers joining the young teacher in taunting DeShawn. Their desire was to encourage him, though they were having the opposite impact.
I finally stopped the conversation by saying to the entire group,
“Listen, teachers and staff. DeShawn is saying “No”. Isn’t it a good thing that he knows what is best for him. Wouldn’t you serve him better by respecting his decision, regardless of YOUR desire? Don’t you want to reward him for knowing what HE wants, despite disappointing you, he is willing to stand up for what he believes is best for him.”
I then shared one of my favorite quotes of all time, that Peter Block tell us that, “If you can’t say No, then Yes has no meaning.”
The teachers sheepishly started to affirm to DeShawn that it was okay if he didn’t want to go in. They told him they respected his decision. This time the lesson for our clients came from me, a present two-legged facilitator. Because I was willing to call the clients out on their behavior, I helped them recognize the unintended consequences of their actions.
Stacie and Amber were not aware of my exchange with the staff until we are loaded up and in my Kaleidoscopian adorned dually returning Tigger and Charlie back to the farm. They were so engaged in their own interactions with the boys, that they were oblivious to anything that happened outside the roundpen. When they learned about my respectful “calling out” they both affirmed that not only did we make a short-term difference in the lives of these residents, maybe, just maybe, we had a lasting impact on future decisions of the staff.
Recall a time when your actions did not get the desired results?
Can you apply the lessons from that experience to anything in your life now?
What additional choices can you make in the future to get the results you desire?