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 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.  Put in this situation today, Stacie would have probed my reaction to the mare pushing Al away.  She would have inquired as to how I interpreted the behavior, possibly asking if I identified with either horse and why. 

 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, 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.