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? 

CONGRUENCE

CONGRUENCE

Spread out across the pasture are two miniature horses, one draft, and three “light” horses.  All have their heads down munching on the still-green grass.  The sky overhead is blue with puffy white clouds.  A gentle breeze adds a little chill to this nearly perfect mild fall Michigan afternoon.

Paul was facilitating this activity for the Equine-Assisted Education (EAL) Symposium at my farm.  The three-day gathering brought together EAL providers from around the country who shared a love of partnering with horses in educational settings.  Among the participants were both people new to the field and several who helped create it.  We welcomed Debbie from Indiana who was a founder of programs supporting youth development of life skills.  Also, in the crowd was Ed who worked for a college, offering EAL programs as part of a human resources course.  There were also students in Prescott Colleges Master’s from equine-assisted learning and mental health, from throughout the US and Canada. 

The symposium was divided into chunks, led by some of the most experienced EAL providers in the country.  Paul and Pam were leading the activity that brought us out into this open pasture.  Paul began explaining, in his gentle cowboy way, that he invites the group to divide themselves into pairs, with each pair matching up with one of the horses currently ignoring us.  The goal of the activity is to halter the horse, then let the horse keep doing whatever it wants to.  The humans’ job is to keep the lead rope loose, seeking to match the energy, steps, and cadence of their equine partners.  Paul finished the instructions, then showed the group a pile of halters to choose from. 

One by one participants paired up, finding partners, then selecting a halter.  The halter selection determined the horse the pair was going to work with because of its size.  Mini halter.  Mini horse.  Huge halter.  Huge horse – our draft Tigger.  Mid-size halter – Al, Diva, or Charlie Brown.  With halters in hands, the pairs slowly walked toward their chosen horses, scattered across the three-acre field.   

Charlie decided he’d rather not be haltered because that usually represents work, so he slowly trotted a few steps, then stopped dropped his head and returned to munching on the grass.  The pair of determined participants approached him.  He sensed the pressure of the people, trotted a few more steps, putting distance between the halter and himself.  The pair decided to take a new approach.  One person, without the halter, arcs around to the front of Mr. Brown and began scratching the side of his neck.  Distracted by this friendly gesture, the second person was able to slowly saddle up next to him, slipping the lead rope over his neck.  Knowing he’s caught, he sighed deeply in resignation.  The participant removed the lead rope from his neck, gently putting his nose through the halter opening, flipping the strap behind his ears, snapping the clip shut.

Looking out across the pasture, a sea of pairs of humans with their horse partners.  Most are standing next to their haltered horse waiting for the horse to move.  Others appear to be concentrating on matching their movement, step by step with their horse, seeking to coordinate their speed, tempo, and pace to match their horse’s movement.  To mirror the movements, the humans must be fully present with their horse, ignoring their human partner as well as the rest of their surroundings.  Some are concentrating so hard, one might consider them in a flow state.

People experiencing a flow state have intense focus; their attention is completely directed towards the task at hand, with minimal distractions. They also lose their self-consciousness, no longer worrying about failure or what others might think, wholly absorbed in the activity. Time seems to pass quickly, with the activity itself intrinsically rewarding, rather than seeking external validation or goals. Lastly, there is a feeling of effortlessness. The activity feels unforced and natural, even if it's challenging.  Flow state, also known as "being in the zone," is a mental state where a person is fully immersed in an activity, with intense focus and enjoyment. 

After 30 minutes or so, Paul and Pam shout out for the group to huddle up in a circle to share what they’ve experienced.  Each pair removes the halter from their horses, who all wander away slowly, continuing to graze. 

Pam begins by asking the group, “What struck you?”

Morrigan speaks up first, “being in sync, anticipating what Mickey was going to do next was harder than I expected.  As a lifelong horse owner and rider, I expected to easily match up with him.  Instead, I found myself trying to catch up, not really matching his movements step for step”. 

Pam then asked her, “what do you image made the task so difficult?”

Morrigan replied, “I’m guessing it’s because of my expertise got in the way of my being able to stay present and curious.  Wow, I wonder where else I’m just looking for what I expect to happen, not open to other possibilities?”

Next Jayna jumped into the conversation.  “Mo, I remember a time during one of our Prescott intensives at Chauncey Ranch where a similar experience happened to me.  The assignment was to pick up all four hooves, one at a time.  Now, I’ve picked up horse feet 1,000 times or more she laughed.  So, when I moved into position with my back towards the horse’s head, bent over, and ran my hand down the mares’ leg, gently asking the horse to lift its’ foot I fully expected that she would respond to my cue and lift her leg.  This time nothing happened.  Her hoof stayed firmly planted on the ground, glued to the dirt.  Laura was facilitating the activity, she suggested I re-group by taking a deep breath, get present and try again.  I followed her advice.  The second try the horse understood my ask, easily lifted its’ hoof as if pulled up by a rope.

“Thank You Morrigan and Jayna for your willingness to be vulnerable with this group, sharing those examples.”  Stated Pam.

“One way to reflect on this experience is to recognize the difference between “doing” and “being” she continued.  “Sometimes doing is all that is required of us in order to meet the goal and/or achieve success.  Other times, we are being asked to be more fully present.  Laura’s suggestion to Jayna, to take a deep breath, re-centered her, inviting Jayna to be instead of just do.  See what I mean?” she inquired.  

All the participants nodded their heads affirmatively.  Pam then closed the activity by inviting the group to spend our remaining day and a half practicing being in sync with each other.  Giggling, participants organically paired up again matching their steps with each walking back to the barn as if their legs were tied together in an old-fashioned sack race.  Once again, our horse partners extended a simple invitation to be more fully present!                                   

Recall a time when you performed a task poorly because you mismatched your expectation of how simple the task would be?

How have you taken the lessons from that experience and applied them to other situations?

Is there an event or experience in your future where aligning your intentions and actions could have a significant impact? 

What  can you invite into your life to support the results you desire?

AMBITION

AMBITION

An early opportunity for learning several lessons came when Stacie, my co-facilitator and equine specialist and I, were working with a group who were employed by a non-profit care agency.  We were hired by a group of women that included management, marketing, nurses, administrative, and social workers.  They contracted with us to help them improve their communication and become a team. 

Eager to practice our new learning modality of equine-assisted learning, often led me to find creative ways of finding clients.  In this case, this organization did not have the budget to hire us at a rate that we considered appropriate.  So, I charged them the full rate for the program, then donated back half of that amount to their foundation.  A win-win as we were able to build awareness of EAL through a very visible local organization.  They were given an opportunity to spend the day together, improving their communication, identifying blind spots, and increasing their self-awareness.

We rented an indoor horse arena at a local stable and hauled in one of Stacie’s young geldings, Phancy, to join my boy, The Alchemist, and my draft mare, Tigger.  They were perfect four-legged facilitators, adding diversity in their ages, size, and gender.  Phancy was young, energetic, and curious about everything.  Al, was a more mature gelding, so more settled, though still willing to engage and play with Phancy.  Tigger, our lead mare, was twice the size of Phancy and had a confidence that was palpable.  When she moved quickly, one could almost feel the ground move because of her size and intention.    

The morning was pretty low-key.  We started with the goal of building relationships with the horses and helping our humans get comfortable with being around these large animals when they were at liberty.  We also laid a foundation of connection between the participants and us, the facilitators, by sharing some insights we gained from their anonymous pre-assessments. 

From the assessments, Stacie and I identified that there was a culture of distrust in the organization.  A classic “silo” situation where individual departments believed they had to defend their turf.  On the surface, our participants “played nice” with each other.  “Playing nice” is pretending everything is okay, that you’re in total agreement.  This behavior undermines outcomes which can lead to distrust, conflict, and wasted resources.  Better, is a culture that supports vulnerability and having hard conversations, leading to healthy conflict, healthy relationships, and healthy organizations.  

After lunch, we invited the group to do a classic activity called Obstacles.  It’s an activity where you ask participants, using horse-safe objects, to build a path for them to move horses through, in, over, or however they define the course. Except, when we described the activity, we forgot to specify the “path” part and only spoke about building an obstacle. 

Because we invited them to create an obstacle, that’s exactly what they did.  Literally.  They piled everything we gave them, PVC pipes, noodles, cones, buckets all in a big heap in the center of the arena.  They created the obstacle, then all 12 of them stood in a circle looking at it.  Stacie and I stared at each other with a questioning look of “what the heck do we do now?”  The group was not engaging with the horses, just standing there staring at that huge pile of stuff.  This was NOT the outcome what we envisioned at all! 

One big problem was we didn’t have a clear ending to the activity.  When an obstacle course is created, the group tries to move the horse(s) through the path.  After several tries, successfully or unsuccessfully,  it makes sense to end the exercise.  Then debrief by exploring the participant’s insights and take-aways.  In this case, they all just stood there while the horses milled around wondering what was going on. 

So, we shrugged our shoulders, trusted the process, and approached the group.   We asked them about their creation. They responded that they did what we told them, which was build an obstacle.  Which they did.  Then, we inquired about what the obstacle represented.  They said things they couldn’t get over.  Okay, we said, that makes sense. 

Our next question hit paydirt; we asked how they defined their success?   Several shared their definitions for success, which varied greatly.  At this point, our equine partners started trotting around the arena, responding to the heightened energy created through their conflicting answers.  The horses were sensitive to the increased tension created by the different definitions of success and the assumptions by the participants that they were all on the same page.  Likely, a similar scenario played itself out at their office, where suppressing true feelings was reinforced in the organization.  The participants weren’t curious, they were clueless. 

Definitions of what success and barriers to it, or obstacles, were different for each person because most of them worked independently, even though they all worked for the same organization.  We revealed this insight, including the horses’ physical responses to their incongruence.  Identifying that this group did not have a shared vision helped them acknowledge that they sometimes worked at cross-purposes, undermining each other.

The recognition of a lack of a common vision led to rich dialogue about their interdependence. They explored how the social worker’s definitions of success, as well as their obstacles, influenced the marketer’s definition, the nurses’, and the administrators’, as well as the leaders’ definitions.

I stated in the opening paragraph that this group hired us to help them become a team.  They were under the assumption that we would do just that, make them a “team,” in a one-day workshop. They wrote about their disappointment on their evaluations; because, while they learned a lot, they did not feel they had become a team. 

Building a team is a long-term, ongoing, and evolving process.  A one-day workshop can be a good start, creating learning breakthroughs that support team development.  From this experience forward, I became VERY clear about expectations and deliverables.  I incorporated a question in my pre-assessment asking what outcomes the clients expected to achieve, inquiring about the changes in behavior they desired to see.  I then shared the results of that question with the whole group at the beginning of the day, allowing me to debunk any false expectations before we even got started.  This (in the words of my friend, Paul Smith) “created the container”, establishing a clear contract. 

Staying focused on leveraging what was right in front of us, we found that this groups’ choice to build an obstacle with no clear definition of success was just what they needed to learn that day.  By staying open to outcomes and curious, Stacie and I learned to trust the process, confidently moving into the situation presented.  Most significantly, the horses provided us with a physical response to the tense feelings by shifting from walking to running around the arena. 

When you reframe a mistake, such as poor activity instructions, into a learning opportunity, your new perspective offers insight and inspiration, not defeat or shame. Because of this experience and many other “happy accidents”, we painted on the inside arena wall, “What would you attempt if you could not fail?”   

Recall and describe a time when your ambition met with success or disappointment.

What did you learn from that experience?

Have you transferred those lessons into other parts of your life?  How? 

What would it look life if you applied those lessons to additional aspects of your life and/or work?

CHAOS

CHAOS

We, my co-facilitator Stacie, and I begin each EAL experience with a “meet and greet” of people and horses.  The horses start the day by settling into my indoor arena, where we let them loose to sniff, roll, and get comfortable.  While the horses do their thing, the humans were invited to a continental breakfast and given the opportunity to observe the four-legged facilitators they’ll be partnering with throughout the program.  This turn-out routine is usually pretty uneventful as we do it every time we bring horses and humans together. For the humans, on the other hand, this is typically a new experience and their first introduction to a horse herd at liberty interacting with each other and their space.

While drinking coffee and munching on apple strudel, this group of fourteen adult educators curiously looked through the large conference room windows into the indoor arena where Stacie and I are releasing our herd.  Kaleidoscope was contracted by the Gerstacker Fellowship program to deliver a day and half equine-assisted learning experience (EAL). “Gerstackers” are Michigan educators who apply to be part of a select group of premier teachers and administrators for a leadership development program. 

Just outside the conference room in the arena we’ve created a space that separates the horses from the full arena (66 x 144 arena) by using a portion of my roundpen.  This configuration allows participants the option of participating without requiring physical contact with the horses.  Picture a “U” of brown aluminum 6’ panels chained together with horses on one side of the panels, separating where humans can stand safely on the other side and a gate to allow access into the horses’ space.

We first released Tigger, our beautiful flea-flicked, 18-hand draft mare.  Next, Diva or “D”, a stunning black former show quarter horse.  The two girls trot around appreciating the freshly dragged arena footing.  Athletic D added a few bucks for good measure.  Next, we brought out our miniature hinney (donkey mom and horse dad) named C-Red, who joins Diva in the dirt-kicking excitement.  Then, we dropped into the mix the two newest members of the herd, Poncho and Cisco.  These two miniature horses have shared large open pastures with our other horses, though they have not yet experienced the indoor arena together.  The newbies decide it’s best to be at one end of the arena, while the other three (Tigger, D, and C-Red) clump at the opposite end.

Last in are our other two miniature horses, Mickey and Minnie.  Mick & Minn are part of the original herd with Tiggs, D, and C-Red.  The original herd has been together in this space countless times helping humans.  With the addition of Mickey and Minnie, a new sorting started taking place and quickly turned ugly.  The horses’ excitement turns to something darker as the herd began biting, intentionally kicking at each other, their frenzied running stirred up a lot of dust and dirt.  The energy was intense!   

I quickly looked at Stacie with surprise and concern.  She was calmly evaluating the situation.  Then, she and I both turned to the conference room windows, finding our educators wide-eyed, with mouths gaping.  This was their first introduction to equine-assisted learning and clearly not what they (or we) were expecting!  We could feel their fear; they must be asking themselves, “what, in holy hell, did I get myself into today?” 

Stace and I watched the horses intently for several minutes assessing the best change to make.  My first thought was to remove the last ones in, Mickey and Minnie.  Things didn’t get crazy until we added them.  Additionally, they were the ones being the most aggressive, especially towards C-Red.  Stacie, with her decades of equine experience, recognized this would be the wrong choice.  The right decision was to remove Poncho and Cisco because the other five have an established community. The chaos we were witnessing was a result of the smaller arena space (as opposed to the pasture) combined with two new additions to the herd. 

You see, horses create a hierarchy, with a lead and then a ranking that follows.  When new herd members are introduced – in this case to the arena – there was a new sorting of their social order. It would not be safe to invite humans into this space, unless the herd figured themselves out and quieted down, which it appeared they are not going to do quickly. 

After calmly consulting with each other on what to do, Stacie and I agreed on removing Poncho and Cisco.  We carefully went into the area behind the roundpen panels to catch and halter our newest herd members.  As we led them out of the arena, the rest of the herd instantly settled down.  One could sense a collective sigh of relief from the conference room; because the five remaining horses were now just standing, heads lowered, patiently waiting to meet their human companions. 

Once we put Poncho and Cisco out in the pasture, we turned our attention to the Gerstackers.  We invited our educators to join us outside the roundpen in the arena, to bring them closer to the horses physically.  I started by asking if what they just witnessed with the horses reminded them of anything similar in their classrooms or buildings?

Stacie followed up with, “I’ve had the experience of creating an alternative education program and this scenario reminds me of when a new kid joins the class.”

Heads started nodding in the affirmative.  One of the participants asked “why didn’t’ you remove the last two horses? Things seemed pretty calm until you added them.”

Stacie explained she had witnessed this sorting of herds many times.  She knew from experience that the established herd would calmly settle once the newbies were removed from the mix.    

Our choice to remove ANY horses was still a choice.  We made the decision to remove Poncho and Cisco based on clear program goals.  It would not have been “wrong” to let the herd sort themselves out in real-time.  There’s a possibility the lessons from witnessing those interactions could have been profound.  We decided that the goals for the day would be better served by partnering with the established herd.

A tall well-groomed man confidently added, “So because you understood horse herds, you were able to see the simplest solution to what appeared to the non-educated as a very chaotic and dangerous situation.” 

“Yup.” I replied.  Just as someone who is familiar with the context of an exchange has deeper insight into the root cause of the problem.  A person is more likely to pull the right switch to solve the problem if they have past experience coupled with clear goals.  A third element to consider is my trust of Stace as the equine specialist, without that, I could have made the wrong choice leading to a very different outcome.”

So, in the first 20 minutes of a day and half program, our participants were offered the opportunity to become self-aware by reflecting on what they would have done had the chaotic situation been in their classroom or building.  They increased their connection with each other through this shared experience, moving from fear to relief.  Their trust and confidence in the facilitators increased significantly.  Lastly, we provided them with an experientially engaging learning experience, which thankfully, continued throughout our time together!

Walking into the conference room to grab my last cup of coffee and Stacie her diet Mountain Dew, we turned to each other with knowing smiles.  In unison we whispered to each other, “you can’t make this shit up!”

Recall a time where you were in a chaotic situation.  How did you respond?  How did others respond?

What is the lesson you from that situation that you can apply to your life today? Where are you putting that lesson into practice?

Can you envision a future where you’ve applied this lesson to the point that it has shifted your paradigm and become your “new normal”?

 What will you do, think, feel, or believe in order to create less chaos in your life?