APPRECIATION

APPRECIATION

Mickey and Minnie came to Kaleidoscope Learning Circle (KLC) in part because the formula for large animals for Birch Run township meant I could only five large animals on my 12.27 acres.  Technically, Mick and Min did not qualify as a “large” animal when I first got them as young foals.  My philosophy was “it’s better to ask for forgiveness than to ask for permission”.   Because asking meant the township could say “no, I could not have more than five equines”.  I later learned from the township supervisor, when I was preparing to sell my property, that their rule about the number of large animals was just a guideline.  Their attitude was as long as a resident is a “good neighbor” nobody was going to count noses. 

When the two dark furry butterballs arrived from northern Michigan, we released them in the front pasture. There was a small white variegated hut as a shelter for shade or inclement weather.  Then partially filled large black stock tank with fresh, cool water. 

Putting Mickey and Minnie in the front pasture, divided them from the bigger horses by a slated double gate.  This allowed them all to sniff each other safely, bigs on one side, littles on the other, without fear of anyone getting hurt.  Tigger neck was long enough that she could drop her huge white head over the top of the gate.  Mick and Min would lift their noses up to hers, each enjoying sniffs.  The rest of the herd would bend their heads to the side and peak through the slats in the gate to say their hellos.   

The “bigs” (Tigger, Charlie, Al, and Tinkerbell) were in the “shoot” or long pasture running alongside of the property.  They also had access to the back, where there was a run-in for shelter and an automatic waterer.  The shoot and the back were divided by double gates that I painted a bright blue, so we affectionately called it the smurf gate.

Ultimately, we planned to integrate all of the horses one herd.  The range of sizes, colors, and personalities would make for easy metaphors relating to diverse work and family groups.  Observation is a great first activity in a program sequence.  With this range of differences we could create all sorts of engaging questions for EAL participants to ponder.  Such as, who in the herd reminds you of an important person in your life? Or if you had to make up a story about this herd, what would be significant to share about their relationships to each other?

After several weeks of living separately, Sara and I decided it was time to merge them into one herd.  Integrating horses always scares me.  Having grown up as a groom, following orders, I’ve always looked to more experience horse people to guide horse-related decisions. Sara had worked for several different barns, she was very seasoned and experienced in all things horse. 

We started by letting the bigs out into their pastures, a normal day for them.  Then, instead of putting the littles out front, we let them go into the pasture with the bigs.  As expected, there was a lot of running around, bucking, kicking and general chaos.  This is normal, until the herd figures out the new pecking order.  Their behavior determining who is higher up on the hierarchical ladder. 

Tigger, being the lead mare, was moving the least.  Her place in the herd was secure.  Tink, the youngest on lower on the ladder was the most active.  Her bucking and high kicks inspired Al and Charlie to embrace the frenzy.  Their energy, transferred to Mickey and Minnie, who were also embracing the chaos by running willy nilly, feet airborne, their bodies twisted and contorted into arcs. 

Sara and I held our breath, at the ready with halters in hand, waiting for them to settle down.  Then we heard the “kunk”.  Al had accidently kicked Minnie in the head.  She walked away a little dazed, though appeared to be mostly just shaken up.  Sara and I immediately ran towards the herd, deciding that this was not going to work today.  We each wrapped a lead rope around a littles’ neck, then with them in tow, moved the bigs through the smurf gate.  Whew!

We then assessed whether there was a need for a vet call, determining that we could keep an eye on Minn, as it appeared she hadn’t been kunked on her noggin too badly.  Grateful that no one got seriously injured, yet disappointed we’d have to keep them separated.  So much for our plan to have one big happy herd!  We  devised a plan to introduce a couple members of the herd at a time, letting two or three connect rather than one big mixing bowl.  We decided that we’d try that at a later date. 

It was autumn, so we had our annual gig with Saginaw Valley State University (SVSU) for their Youth Leadership Institute.  Roundpen loaded in the trailer the night before, hay bags hung for the horses, and toys for the activity packed, we went into the pasture to grab Charlie and Tigger.  That left Tink and Al in the back pasture, while Mickey and Minnie grazed peacefully in the front pasture.

After a full day of rotating groups of youth from Saginaw county and SVSU student volunteers through an EAL activity designed to help increase their self- awareness, appreciate differing leadership styles, and start building healthy relationships, we returned home.  Sara backed the trailer up behind the barn. 

We jumped out of the truck preparing to back the horses off and let Tigger and Charlie loose with the rest of the bigs.  We looked out into the shoot and saw that not only were Tink and Al grazing there, so were Mickey and Minnie!  We must not have closed the gate between them securely, so they integrated themselves while were gone.  We watched them carefully for several minutes, looking for broken bones, blood, or any sign of distress.  Seeing none, we decided to drop Tigg in first, see how that went, then let Charlie join the gang. 

Sara threw Charlie into his stall, while I walked Tigg into the pasture.  I turned her around, leaving her halter on in case we needed to catch her.  She trotted happily up to the rest of the herd who was near the smurf gate in the back.  When they saw her coming, they all trotted in her direction, meeting in the middle.  Sara and I watched patiently, as they sniffed, sorting themselves out.  No bucks or kicks this time.  The energy was “okay, I guess we all live together now.” 

Now time to let Charlie join the rest.  He was our eldest horse, around the age of 10, and had experienced many barns in his lifetime.  Sara was his previous owner, so she knew him well.  She sold him to me when she bought Tink, which was a great fit for both of us.  We mutually agreed that he was effectively on loan, that someday she would buy him back when she was able. 

Charlie entered the pasture, ears perked facing forward, trotting up the clump of horses in the middle of the pasture.  They greeted him, much the way they welcomed Tigger, with interested sniffs.  Shortly after he joined them, they all decided to go into the back pasture where there was more grass. 

Sara and I could not have anticipated that we had just witnessed the very beginning of many, many years of magical interactions between this perfect herd of horses and humans seeking increased self-awareness.  The diversity of size, personality, age, breed, and gender of these animals was truly unimaginably divine.  As was the divine intervention of them mixing themselves together!   

Have you ever had a “happy accident” happen that greatly impacted your life?

Is there a situation right now that you wish could change, and can’t see a way for it to be different?  What is one action you can take to make this situation better?

When you take that action, how will you know that it has made a positive difference?  What is your evidence?       

CLARITY OF SIGHT

CLARITY OF SIGHT

While working at a local credit union as their marketing director, my good friend, Lynne, learned that she had Multiple Sclerosis (MS).  Lynne quickly began volunteering for the MS Society, sucking in many of her friends to help.  As part of the local MS chapter we were connected to the State organization and its Executive Director, Tammy.  Tammy introduced us to one of her passion projects, Special Days Camps. 

Special Days offer camping experiences for teens with cancer and their siblings.  Through Tammy I learned about a summer camp near me that included access to horses.  Hello!  They said yes to including Equine-Assisted Learning as part of their week-long programming. 

As a parent, one of my fears was that someday I could be one of those people who faced caring for a child with cancer.  Feeling blessed that I could contribute, in a small way, to the lives of these courageous kids; I donated my time, only charging them for the out-of-pocket expenses and the time of my co-facilitators.  I billed a rate of $1,300 for the two days.  Then, I donated $700 back to Special Days where they had a matching program and were able to double the money to $1,400!

Stacie and I met with the riding stable wrangler, Jen, to create a three-hour program focusing on their theme of the day “Insight”.  This was day five of a seven day camp:

Day 1 – Teamwork; Day 2-  Stereotypes; Day 3- Service; Day 4 – Communication; Day 5 – Insight; Day 6 – Leadership; Day 7 – Community.

Special days creates memories and long-lasting friendships by focusing on the kids, not their illnesses.  Both campers (be it the kid with cancer or their siblings) and their families benefit from experiencing the normalcy of camp.  Anyone who has ever been part of a group camping experience, be it band, church, or a Y camp, recalls being responsible for meal clean-up and other chores, a shower block with private showers, and sharing meals together.  Most former campers also fondly remember embracing nature, songs, campfires, and usually some silly traditions, rituals, and games.       

On our day with horses, we spent the morning with opening activities of catch and halter, extended appendages, and then we moved into an activity called Black Box.  Black Box sets people up by creating opportunities for participants to gain personal insight into their choices and assumptions.  The horses offer insight through their responses, adding a layer of complexity by reading the energy of the participants, then reacting.

This is an activity where we divided the group of 20 participants into clumps of five people.  Within each group, we individually took people aside assigning them different – and sometimes opposing – goals.  The goals included halter, brush, saddle pad, lift front foot, and lead to the opposite corner of the arena.  The additional instructions included, not talking without a consequence and no leaving the community.

We invited the participants to decide the consequence if they talked.  It had to be done here and now, as well as multiple times.  The teens decided push ups in poop was the winner.  They shared that they had already coordinated a “group poop” at the camp, so this choice made perfect sense – to them.  Stacie, Jen, and I all laughed, each of us having experienced camping as kids.  Ah, the joy and simplicity of finding body fluids and their functions funny!

The three of us facilitators then surveyed the area to make sure there was enough road apple piles to accommodate our participants.  Seeing there was plenty of piles and trusting our horse partners to add to the poop mind-field, we agreed and asked the kids, “how many pushups”?  The participants discussed it, arguing over the quantity, agreeing with 20 thumbs up on three.  They also decided “girl pushups”, those that are on your knees, were allowed. 

With the consequences agreed to, we asked the kids to count off one through five to randomize them.  Once the groups were established, I explained they would have 10 minutes to complete the tasks they had been assigned. Let the chaos begin!  In each group, one camper grabbed a halter, another a brush, a third hauled the saddle pad off the fence, while the fourth headed toward the horses and the fifth took a lead rope and halter from Jen.

Five “light”, or quarter horse type horses, stood patiently waiting in the large open corral.  These horses were familiar with being tacked up to be taken on trail rides.  They seemed content, just standing there, waiting without saddles or other equipment.  Three of the horses had their ears up facing our group, curious as to what we were going to ask of them.  The other two were more relaxed, dozing with eyes partially or fully closed, one hind leg cocked making a droopy posture to one side.   The two that were half asleep perked up when the kids started gathering their supplies.  They, too, joined the other three horses, ears up facing the group, trying to figure out what was next.

Each group of five people struggled to complete their competing tasks.  For example, as the person assigned to halter the horse was trying to put the halter on, the camper that was tasked to brush started brushing.  The horses were SO confused by the break in their routine!  Some simply walked away from the kids, unless the halter-person had the ability to keep them in place. 

One group followed behind their horse, trying to get the halter on when the saddle pad, which had been tossed on to the horses back, slipped off, making the horse jump a little, then he slowly trotted away.

The third group looked similar to the first, with a horse haltered, a person brushing, and a third person trying to figure out how to lift a front hoof without much success. 

In group four, three people were standing watching, apparently waiting for their turn to do their assignment, not interfering with the two people who did their tasks first.  The person who haltered the horse was holding it, while a second camper was trying to take the lead from the first person, seeking to move them all to the other side of the corral.

Lastly, in group five, the campers were trying to use their fingers as pencils to write notes to each other in the sand.  They were also miming their tasks, working to help each other understand what their individual assignments were.  They seemed to be trying to plan what order they should proceed, by pointing at each other, either shaking their heads “yes” or “no” until they found agreement. 

All of the people were all trying to complete their tasks at the same time, with few of them making any connections to the horses.   Each of the horses responded to the energy of each of their groups’ activities.  Because these were trail riding horses, they were what is considered “bomb proof”.  Meaning, even under chaotic or unfamiliar circumstances, we could rely on them being safe, unlikely to kick out or run someone over.  That being said, Jen watched closely to make sure each of her horses was behaving as she expected, simply moving away from pressure, responding to clear direction, and appreciating the attention when given with respect.        

After about four minutes of this chaotic action, we heard someone talk.  We shouted out to all the participants that they would now have the consequence they chose.  We invited them to detach the lead ropes from their horses’ halters, so that the horses would not step on the rope, hurting or scaring themselves.  Campers looked around anxiously, trying to find dried out piles, rather than getting stuck doing pushups over with fresh, steaming, aromatic ones.  They all eventually got down on the ground, completing their three pushups consequence. 

Then, they resumed the activity for the remaining amount of time.  The consequence broke them from just focusing on their tasks, serving as a sort of reset.  When the groups reconnected with their horses, they all worked together in more unison, having recognized that each group had been set up the same and at cross purposes.     

Following the activity we invited the participants to share with us what they learned.  Their feedback ranged from one extreme – frustrating – to the other – fun.  My guess is their response depended on the task they had been assigned and if they were able to accomplish it.  Through our debriefing, we created space for each person to share their personal insights and how they could transfer that learning back to their lives. 

Our non-judgmental equine partners and activities reminded the campers that they had agency and choice.  That by altering perspectives, we can create space to enter into relationships in a different way with others, with ourselves, and with our circumstances, even if that circumstance is cancer.

Recall a time when you were in a situation that was designed to connect you with others.  Who were the people you considered or chose as your companions?  Why?

 Do you intentionally seek out people mostly like you or those that are distinctly different as you companions?

 In the future are there companions, human or otherwise, you would like to connect to?  What actions will you take to make this happen?     

UNINTENDED CONSEQUENCES

UNINTENDED CONSEQUENCES

Living together in a Y-camp ranch home meant sharing space, forcing experiential learning in real-time.  Bunk beds, a limited number of bathrooms, and one large kitchen created an atmosphere that at times was familial – both loving and tense.

This was session one of a four-part, in-person five-day intensive.  This inaugural event combined the participants in the Equine-assisted learning Masters, the mental health professionals earning a Master’s degree with an emphasis on equine-assisted services, and the post-masters participants in both learning and mental health. 

A collection of people from across the US, including two people from Canada, and a person from Puerto Rico.  Each was drawn to participate in this unique learner-centered, experientially imbedded program because of their desire to incorporate equine partners into their practice or business.    

One of the pluses was having a caterer prepare our meals.  On that first morning together, Joann, the chef, and her helped Marie, provided us with a pile of waffles dripping with butter, bacon and sausage from local butchers, a bouquet of brightly colored fresh fruit, and a variety of toasts made from homemade breads.   

After our bellies were full, we gathered on random chairs and couches in the living area facing the huge stone fireplace.  Paul welcomed all the students to our session focusing on facilitation.  He used a flip chart and colored markers to review the pre-reads that included the theories behind sequencing activities, Kolb’s experiential learning cycle, and the effective use of metaphor.  

Following Paul’s session, Laura, a mental health professional and me, a educator, helped the participants unpack the distinctions between equine-assisted mental health and equine-assisted learning.  We emphasized the importance of staying within your scope of practice by offering a pencil and paper activity that supported the students in identifying their potential/actual clients, working through various scenarios.  

Once we completed the theoretical framework activities it was time to practice what we learned through partnering with horses.  The group of fourteen women and two men walked from the Chauncey Bunk house in the hot Arizona sun to the pasture.  Crossing the dry wash, our cowboys boots kicked up some dust.  We kept our eyes out for rattle snakes and other wildlife known to roam the area.  We reached the barbwire fenced in pasture where 30 or so horses peacefully grazed. 

The horses were a virtual kaleidoscope of colors.  There were several paint horses with unique markings, patches of white on their rears and sides.  Horses with socks and no socks on their legs, others with snips, stars, and blazes on their faces.  Some were solid black and a few where white or flea-flicked.   All gathered in a line on the fence admiring the herd; Paul extended the invitation for our first equine activity.

“We’re going to silently observe the herd’s interactions for the next 10 minutes.  Use your journal to capture the subtleties of their behavior.  For example, who moved who?  Did that interaction affect other members of the herd?  If so, how?  I encourage you to notice what you notice – why does that matter and what is significant?” he concluded. 

After 10 minutes, Paul circled us up to explore our reflections.  Then, he invited us all to enter the pasture.  One by one we walked through the open gate, gently moving horses aside that were trying to sneak out.  The instructions this time were to meet and greet the horses, however we saw fit.  Again, paying attention to our own choices, behaviors, and thoughts.  Did the horse move away or come toward you, ears up, eyes bright with curiosity?  He encouraged us to capture in writing the actions we found curious and explore what might lie behind that curiosity. 

Following meet and greet’s debrief, Paul demonstrated his preferred way to tie the knot on the rope halter’s he had assembled.  Then, Laura invited each of us to grab a halter, find a horse that it fit, halter the horse and then bring them to just outside the labyrinth.  A labyrinth is a physical maze, a complex structure of paths or passages invites reflection, introspection, and self-discovery.  Paul built this one with stone found on the ranch, boarders wide enough for both a horse and a human to navigate. 

Once everyone had a horse haltered and were standing patiently by the labyrinth opening, Paul signaled that whoever wanted to go first should start.  He suggested we enter with a question, leveraging the quiet reflective time while traveling the winding path to seek an answer. 

I was just getting back into horses after many years away from them, so was not very confident in my abilities.  Fortunately, my halter experience had gone smoothly, as the horse I selected, rather the horse that selected me (because he moved toward me when I set out in his direction) was named Nodak.  Nodak, originally from North Dakoda, was willing and friendly. 

Emily, Shannon, Mundo, Jayna, Laura, and Terri were all weaving around the twisting path when I stepped up with Nodak to enter the sacred space.  I paused, took a deep breath, and thought to myself,

“Dear higher power.  Please show me a lesson that will help me serve this program, these students, and the horses as we begin our new, exciting adventure with Prescott College.”

I asked Nodak to move forward, shoulders back, facing forward, confidently holding the leadrope.  He took a few steps then stopped to grab a clump of grass growing between the rocks.  I gently pulled on the lead, his head came up and we continued our journey.  We made it a couple more steps when he found a barely visible tuft of grass, dropped his head to snag the little patch.  Once again, I tugged his head and up it came. 

It was clear everyone was trying to respectfully honor each others’ experience.  Occasional small smiles would be shared as we passed next to each other on the twisted turns.  You could hear the sound of crunching, as horses and humans walked the dry gravel-like path.  The slightly peppery scent of desert sage floated in the soft breeze tickling your nostrils.  Looking toward our desired goal, in the center hung a buddist’s multi-colored flag. The Buddhist flag's six colors symbolize key Buddhist concepts: blue for universal compassion, yellow for the Middle Way, red for the blessings of practice, white for the purity of Dhamma, and orange for wisdom. The sixth, combined band of all colors signifies the universality and unity of the Buddha's teachings.

A few more steps, a couple of turns, and down goes NoDak’s head.  This time when I tugged on the leadrope, he refused to respond.  I struggled, trying harder to get him to move with no success.  Lifelong and experienced horseperson, Laura, happened to be right next to me one path over.  I looked at her and whispered for help.  She suggested I ask him to back-up instead of move forward.  Moving him off the grass in a new way would earn his respect and engage him in what I was asking him to do.

I gently applied pressure putting my hand on his front shoulder with left hand, holding the leadrope in the other, I asked him to back.  Success!  I smiled, mouthed a “Thank You” to Laura and continued on our journey to the center. Now that I had established myself with him as a confident leader, NoDak didn’t try to eat anymore grass.  I became more present, recognizing when he was thinking about dropping his head, anticipating his behavior before it happened. 

Once everyone completed their trip to the center and back out, we thanked our horse partners, releasing them back into the wide open field across from the labyrinth.   Then, we sat on the ground, circled up to share our experience.  I shared how much I appreciated Laura’s help when I got stuck.

Terri said that was a very moving and powerful moment for her.  I asked “why?” looking confused. 

She explained that she was really nervous about being here.  She was older than most of the students here and hadn’t been in school in a long time.  She was a horse trainer who had a bachelor’s in sociology, so thought that maybe getting her masters and becoming a therapist would give her more job security.  She shared that she was also a recovering addict, so felt drawn to help others who may have a similar background. 

She went on to tell us that she thought everyone, especially the faculty, would be better at everything than she would be.  When she saw me ask for help, it reminded her of her own expertise.  She knew more about horses than a faculty member!  She could hardly believe it! 

My eyes welled up with tears of gratitude at her sincere and deeply moving admission.  Her response answered the question I asked entering the labyrinth about a lesson that would serve me.  It was that by being vulnerable, being myself, asking for help was just what someone else needed that day.  I was enough and so what she.    

Have you ever been simply being “you” and later learned that you’ve impacted others in either a positive or negative way? What were the circumstances around the incident that you remember?

Have you taken what you learned from that experience and applied it elsewhere in your life?  If so how?

If there a situation in the future where you can also apply what you learned, what action(s) will you take to facilitate that being more likely?

INTEGRITY

INTEGRITY

His cowboy hat tilted forward to block the rain, soaked oilskin jacket dripping with water, a taught lead rope with a very unhappy BLM (Bureau of Land Management) burro clipped to the end begrudgingly following.  This image of Paul Smith leading Hercules, the burro, back to his pasture on a stormy Arizona night embodies the critical importance of having a support system.  We, the participants and faculty of a Prescott College equine-assisted learning intensive, peered from the doorway of the bunkhouse to witness the scene.   Paul was part of Herc’s support team.  He took care of this stubborn burro, literally dragging him back to a secure area where he would be free from the threat of bears, coyotes, and other horse-eating predators.  

Zooming an imaginary camera lens outward to capture a wider scene, the group of eight of us in the bunkhouse that night was also part of our own support team.  We’d travelled from all over the country, east coast, west coast, and parts in between to gather for one of our four annual intensives.  Joined together by our love of equine-assisted services, desire to practice and improve our skills, coming with a willingness to be vulnerable together.

Support teams can not only keep you physically safe (I’ve been grateful for this kind of help a time or two), but they can also be there for your emotional, spiritual, and psychological support.  Often humans and human systems are predicated on a zero-sum game.  Meaning, one winner and one loser. The idea of winner takes all is deeply seeped in many cultures.  From sporting teams to educational bell curves that require losers in order to declare winners. 

My personal educational experience in my master’s degree and Ph.D. programs were competency-based, meaning we were each individually responsible for our educational outcomes.  My master’s brought together adult learners in management and leadership roles from around the world to a Rochester Institute of Technology (RIT) classroom in Rochester, New York.  A diverse group of individuals which included a former freedom fighter and now educator from Croatia, Nina, a casino pit boss and former Olympic luge runner from New York, Peter, as well as Annie and I from Frankenmuth Michigan and a cast of another eight characters. 

During our two weeks of torture and euphoria at RIT, our group of twelve people became a high-performance team. As a high-performance team we shared leadership roles, had both individual and mutual accountability, and we learned to use the dialogic process as a method for deeper understanding.  We were profoundly committed to one another’s personal growth, often putting the group’s success ahead of our own. We helped each other through it all, balancing the work required by looking at individual workloads, skills, and personal goals. 

One testament to this process was when we learned our lead facilitator, Dr. Dick Marecki, was concerned about Nina’s lack of participation in class.  She was from Croatia, not confident about speaking English.  Often during class, because of our own enthusiasm, we would not even notice she hadn’t shared a thought or asked a question. 

Once the faculty brought to our attention the shared goal of inviting participation for all, Annie and I strategized on the best way to accomplish this objective. We concluded that it would be best if we approached Nina in between class, sharing our reasoning with her and offering support.   To help Nina and for the entire group’s success, we asked her if it would be all right to put her on the spot in class.  If one of us noticed she hadn’t participated, would it be okay to directly ask her, “Nina, what do you think?”  Being that straightforward, personal, and honest with a virtual stranger was scary!  Taking the risk of possibly hurting her feelings with our question was overridden by our collective desire for successful learning by the entire team. 

Supporting the success of another is a choice.  By acknowledging that we accomplish little of any significance on our own, we’re willing to compromise, negotiate, and explore alternative futures.  Healthy teams and organizations look out for each other and do their best to support each other’s success. Members are accountable for doing so and such teams eliminate those who do not help. The lack of such accountability, such as contracting agreements,  is why many teams and organizations are not as successful as they could be.

Support systems remind us that whatever dysfunctional behavior we may exhibit, we can choose something more useful. Healthy team members contract with each other to consistently and proactively help each other accomplish the work each must do. They assist individuals in owning their choices regarding their behavior, emotions, thoughts, and belief systems.

Paul was self-assured that he knew the safest choice for Hercules.  One of the bits of wisdom he would often share related to the life and death choices we accept when a person decides to care for animals.  He’d say, “if you’re going to have live animals, then accept the fact that you’re going to have dead animals.” A pretty sobering statement.

This mantra is true not just for living, breathing animals, it’s also true for ideas.  We humans breathe life into ideas, aspirations, and dreams.  One use of our energy, our personal power, is to influence others. How effective we are in influencing others is proportional to building the support we need to accomplish our goals, in both our professional and our personal lives.

A key to developing and sustaining successful support systems is to stay curious.  We need to build support systems of people, who in their various roles, will add their energy to our own when our own is insufficient to accomplish our goals. Building such support requires us to use our personal power and energy to attain the agreement—tacit or explicit—of others to use their energy on behalf of our goals. That’s influence.

I Imagine the various groups of humans as if they were all ropes, or threads, or other pieces of twine twisted together creating a lifeline.  Some are longer than others.  Some are thick, with many life experiences, and strong because of the shared time and overcoming conflict.  Others have gaps, where they have come and gone.  In each case, the ties that bind have helped me gain perspective, held me accountable, and supported me in reframing experiences that no longer serve.  Your best self emerges when you surround yourself with people that you trust, vulnerably inviting your authentic self into the space with them. 

Recall a time when you reached out to your support teams.  Who is part of that group?  Identify the conditions that enabled you to request support.

What aspects of your life boost your self-assurance?

Is there a future goal you are working on to achieve where additional support could make the situation better?  What can you proactively do now to make that more likely to happen? 

RESONANCE

RESONANCE

Resonance is critical to the equine-assisted services industry in many ways.  One is when people co-facilitate, working together as single unit to reach the same goals for the client(s).  A simple, and often-used example, is a mental health professional or educator teaming up with an equine specialist. 

I’ve been blessed throughout the years to work along side some incredible co-facilitators where our “dance” together is magically in sync.  We naturally weave in and out throughout our program delivery with ease.  The comfort and confidence we display helps clients witness healthy team relationships.  This is especially true if something doesn’t go as planned.  Then, we are gifted the opportunity to show participants healthy conflict behaviors, staying curious and open, seeking to understand.    

I’ve always cared deeply for the equine-assisted providers, helping them to be the best version of themselves.  I believe all learning begins with self-awareness, so in order to serve their clients best, the facilitators must do their own personal growth work. In addition to joining and actively participating on committees or presenting at conferences or industry organizations; one of the ways I’ve purposefully worked to support equine-assisted services is by collaborating with other providers.

Our field, similar to many others, offers a variety of client-specific trainings.  Each is meant to support individuals enhancing their abilities to help their clients.  The programs range in focus from trauma-informed and other therapeutic offerings to leadership, communication, and healing programs for educators, coaches, and organizational development specialists. 

Two therapist friends of mine, Trudy and Sharon, offered a training they created for kids and horses.  This program used animal handling methods to monitor and report success to funders with outcome-based evaluations.  Income streams are often a challenge for non-profits, which is one reason they designed and developed a way to measure outcomes. 

I invited Trudy and Sharon to bring their program to Michigan.  We worked out all the logistics from who was responsible for what financially and organizationally to where they would eat, sleep, and bathe after they flew in from Wisconsin.  We confirmed what horses they would partner with and other details such as what equipment they needed and whose release forms we would use.  A two-day agenda was agreed upon, post card invitations printed and mailed.  Our efforts resulted in eleven women participants from around the country. 

One of the participants was Amber, a good friend and someone I have co-facilitated with regularly.  Stacie, another friend and co-facilitator acted as our horse specialist when necessary.  The three of us were really looking forward to hosting this event and learning from Trudy and Sharon.  It would be fun for us to not be responsible for all of the facilitation and to be participants together. 

Everything was running smoothly, with Trudy and Sharon running through their agenda.  Their approach was more didactic than ours, which was appropriate for the training.  A didactic approach to teaching is where the information is presented from the facilitators to the participants.  The classroom style material was blended with experiential equine activities.    

Stacie, Amber, and I noticed a little bit of tension between the two facilitators as the first day went on.  A sideway glance.  Rolled eye.  A shrug followed by a muffled “whatever” when one of them didn’t agree with the other.  None of the other ten participants seemed to notice or pick up on the subtle conflict.  The participants’ passion for new learning clouded their ability to catch the understated disagreements.  I was especially tuned in, because being the only non-therapist, the actual protocol was of little interest to me.

Unbeknownst to our guests these two business partners were struggling with their relationship.  I’d known both of these amazing ladies for a handful of years.  First witnessing their tension when I visited their place as part of a committee to create a third-party certification.  It was clear to me that they were no longer fully committed to continuing their business relationship or that they were having fun working together. 

By the middle of day two, Stacie, Amber, and I were jonesing to share our thoughts with each other.  We sat together for lunch with the pretext that we wanted to review the final details relating to transportation, wrapping up, and closing the event. 

The three of us started talking about how grateful we were for the opportunity to work together. We recognized that over the years, each of us had experienced and/or witnessed other facilitator training teams that clearly did not get along.  We reflected on the importance of working through conflict in a healthy way, modelling what we suggested for our clients.  “Walking the talk” was a core value, something we held in high regard.  Always speaking our truth and sharing our fears was a practice we embraced. 

Amber recalled a time when we were working with a group and at a break I asked her to meet me in the mechanical room.  Of course, she said yes.  We excused ourselves from the group, explaining that we needed a few moments in private.  We tried to make that request for privacy seem normal, nothing out of the ordinary, though it was rare for us. 

We entered the room a large closet next to the restroom.  Surrounded by a water heater, several file cabinets, and a corner where brooms, buckets, and mops hung I began.  I shared with her that I had been triggered by what a participant said in the last activity.  I explained that something about the passive aggressive way she responded to my question reminded me of what my mother, Ada, would sometimes do when she interpreted my question as an attack.  I had felt a physical response, a rush of adrenaline through my body and was pretty sure my face was flushed because it felt hot.

At the time of the exchange, Amber noticed my silence, jumping in to keep things moving after my somewhat awkward pause.  Now she helped me reframe the participants’ comment, so that it no longer held the emotional power it did when she first said it.  Because of Amber’s skilled coaching and my self-awareness, we were able to quickly return to the group, picking up where we left off. 

After reliving that story, the three of us wondered aloud whether Trudy and Sharon were conscious of their conflict or if their “way of being” had become so natural that they didn’t even notice it.  We acquainted it to a troubled marriage, where each fight might be different, though the root cause was the same.   It didn’t appear that our visiting facilitators were trying to drive away destructive communication and conflict patterns, replacing them with healthy, productive ones.  It seemed as if they, and thankfully the participants, were completely unaware.

Stacie, Amber, and I surmised that the other participants didn’t sense any tension because they didn’t recognize the difference between good and excellent facilitation.  The difficulty in the relationship between the facilitators didn’t resonate with the participants, in part, because they didn’t look for it, so it was basically invisible.  Trudy and Sharon created a business, worked together for several years, and shared similar values in regards to their work.  The current “falling out” was masked by their long-standing and deeply- rooted commitment to helping people partner with horses for the greater good.     

Sharon gave us all a ten-minute warning, so the three of us got out the plastic wrap and containers, putting away the remaining pulled pork, baked beans, and corn bread.  Amber moved the remaining cookies and brownies to the table by the coffee, making a fresh pot for our caffeine addicted friends.  Meanwhile, Stacie took the overflowing trash container out to the big receptacle in the barn aisle.

We wrapped up the rest of the program, said our good-byes, hugs all around. Once all the guests left, the five of us sat comfortably around my custom built, blue-colored, kidney-shaped island munching on leftovers to review the evaluations together.  Everyone was pleased with the experience.  The training was called “incredibly helpful”, with comments about the expertise of the facilitators.  In the reviews, the participants shared their appreciation for the facilitators’ real-life stories of partnering with other animals, such as Trudy’s dog Dinger, or Sharon’s chickens.  It warmed my heart to hear the facility, food, and overall appearance of the horses exceeded the participants expectations.

Stacie, Amber, and I did not share our observations about the tensions we witnessed with Trudy and Sharon.  In part, because it did not affect our mutual desired program outcomes.  Also, they also didn’t ask.  The three of us knew the personal drain of facilitating for two days; the emtional tole of being present for each participant, balancing that with all of the other moving parts of delivering a program. All five of us left feeling grateful to share our love of partnering with horses, helping others who will reach even more people in collaboration with these amazing four-legged facilitators.   

Have you ever been triggered by someone’s behavior?  How did you respond?

What did you learn from that experience and how has it served you?

In the future are there decisions you can make to reduce the potential for being triggered?  What are they?  

COMPASSION

COMPASSION

Wanda was listening to a Christian radio show called Focus on the Family, when someone was being interviewed from Crystal Peaks Ranch in Oregon.  They described the work they did with rescued horses and troubled kids.  How the work with horses changed lives.  This sparked in her a curiosity, so she googled about horses, changed lives, etc. This search opened the door to learning about the wonderful world of EAL.  She told her husband, Mundo, about it, then set out to find out more.

On the search to find a place where Mundo could go to get trained or certified in the EAL field, they came across numerous options which ranged from being very new age to scholarly.  Their focus first went to Spain.  Mundo decided to call since the training would be in Spanish.  The woman in Spain spoke to Mundo, suggesting he visit a center closer to home before committing to engage in her training. 

Nana’s search also revealed that Kaleidoscope was an option.  She suggested it to him because of the scholarly approach.  The information on the KLC website matched Mundo’s graduate studies which focused on business consulting.  Also, the fact that Kaleidoscope was in Michigan gave them a chance to visit Mundo’s cousin who lived near Detroit.

I received a phone call from a man with a very thick Spanish accent inquiring about my training.  While I didn’t offer a certification program, I was always willing to support people interested in learning more about EAL.  I shared anything – the good, the bad, and the ugly with the premise that they couldn’t replicate my work because we came from different life experiences, backgrounds, learning styles, etc. 

He told me he was Dr. Edmundo Jimenez from Puerto Rico and he and his wife wanted to come to Michigan to learn about EAL.  He explained that he showed Paso Fino horses and had recently learned about how horses could help people.  He was an organizational business consultant, with his own consulting business, InBusiness for Team Development, Inc.   He reasoned it might be a good match to bring his love of horses into his business and was eager to learn more about EAL. 

I emailed him a proposed training with the following outcomes:

-Explore industry definitions, standards, and guidelines

-Identify core elements of a skilled EAL Facilitator

-Self exploration and assessment -gap analysis of skills and talents

-Practice EAL facilitation, peer review, and feedback

-Networking with other industry professionals

-Increase awareness of the components of a learner-centered EAL program

He and his wife, Nana, agreed so I reached out to six other people who had also expressed interest in learning more about running an EAL business.  I offered to only charge Mundo and Nana for any out-of-pocket expenses. The opportunity to develop a collaborative partnership with a fellow EAL provider in Puerto Rico was exciting! 

It turned out Nana was afraid of horses, so she was just joining to support Mundo and learn the business side of the process.  She actively participated in all the non-horse dialogues and exercises, though when it came to working with the horses, she mostly observed.  Gradually, we all witnessed her getting more comfortable with our four-legged facilitators.  She moved from the edge of the arena, to nearer the horse work, getting closer and closer to our equine partners. By the third day when she was invited to lead Minnie, she responded with a tentative “yes”.

Mundo was beyond excited when she finally felt comfortable enough to actively work with the horses.  This was a significant breakthrough for two reasons.  One, she would no longer be just behind-the-scenes with their farm.  This new awakening potentially opened a door to her more active participating in the equine work.  As equally important, was the revelation of how transformational partnering with horses can be for individuals to overcome limiting beliefs.  Her conquering her fear of horses was an “Aha moment” that she told me became a game changer for their business, The Equus of Puerto Rico.   

After his experience in Michigan, Mundo, Nana and I kept in touch with them wanting me to come to PR to introduce EAL to their community.  Their farm was under construction, so they planned a “Deminar” at a neighboring barn. 

I’d never been to PR, so I made my usual arrangements for people to take care of kids, dogs, and horses then jumped on a plane headed to the island.  They invited me to stay in their home, which made the experience even more special.

The first stop on my PR tour was to observe Mundo in action as an organizational consultant.  Nana and I entered a large auditorium filled with people, mostly men, in business attire.  Mundo was at the front of the room on a stage in front of a very large video screen.  He was wearing a microphone and gesturing actively to the audience. Nana and I made our way to the back of the room where she could whisper English to me, interpreting Mundo’s presentation. 

It was wonderful watching him, his dynamic personality shown brightly as he strutted across the stage, changing the pitch in his voice from a whisper to shouting, captivating his audience.

Following the presentation we spent the day touring the island.  They took me to their favorite out-of-the-way restaurant for mofongo (mashed plantains) and an actual coconut with a straw to drink coconut water.  We toured old San Juan, the Castillo San Filipe de Morro (16th century citadel built by the Spanish) and the San Cristobal Castle (largest Spanish fort in the new world). 

The next day was the Deminar.  They invited twelve people, a mixture of men and women, to participate.  Because I only speak English and they also spoke English, we began in my primary language.  Questions in Spanish would fill the air, with Nana stepping in to explain to me what was being asked. 

We discovered during the first debriefing that it was best for them to share their thoughts in Spanish, their natural tongue, rather than try to translate it for me into English.  Important feelings, emotions, and subtle nuances got lost in translation.  So, we reversed our approach with most of the conversation now in Spanish, Nana again interpreting for me.  The speed, enthusiasm, and energy with which they could share ideas in their native language was significantly different than when they were asked to speak English.

The language of Equus though isn’t Spanish or English – it’s Universal.  The equine experiences offered insights for all the participants. 

The friendship between Nana, Mundo, and I grew.  Mundo attended the EAL Post-Masters program in Prescott Arizona four times the next year to further enhance his learning.  He developed a deep friendship with Paul Smith and Pam McPhee, which led to them also visiting PR.  Additionally, the Experiential Training and Development Alliance, a group the three (Pam, Paul, and I) of us belong to, participated in a service project on their farm to help them recover following the horrific damage from hurricane Maria. 

To this day, 2025, we continue to seek ways to come together to share our passion of horses helping humans.  It all started with a compassionate person from Oregon rescuing horses to help troubled kids and a person listening to that story on the radio.  Our collaborative efforts have positively impacted hundreds, if not thousands, of lives. 

Have you noticed or tracked the ripple effect of an action of compassion in your life?  What was it?

Can you identify another possible compassionate action that you could take today that may or may not have far reaching effects?

Is there a way in the future to determine the impacts of the choice you made?  Can you take additional actions to increase its reach and positive power?