TRUST

TRUST

Stacie and I invited a group of friends to an EAL practice session at Whispering Pines Farm where I boarded my horses.  We both recently completed a three-day Equine-assisted learning certification.  Stacie invited two of her horse friends, Lori and Ann.  I invited my friend Deb and her 15-year old daughter, Ashely as well as the owner of Whispering Pines, Roger.

I started by welcoming everyone to Roger’s amazing farm.  Roger jumped in by explaining that he’s not a horse-guy, which is why he hired a horse trainer to give lessons and live in the barn apartment.  He explained that he loves animals, which is why later this spring his two girl goats, Daisy and Buttercup, will be having kids.  The female reindeer, or cows, have also been bred.  He asked if anyone had a connection to lamas or alpaca as he’d like to add them to the farm as well. 

A rambunctious young golden retriever kept begging us to throw his tennis ball, dropping it in front of anyone who was paying attention to him.  While an orange barn cat lounged in the sun on a picnic table, with a second one snuggled in a cat bed on top of a cabinet just inside the barn door. 

After Roger’s storytelling, Stacie got us started with a warm-up activity designed to help us get to know each other better and begin building trust. 

“We’d like everyone to get to know each other a little better before we start working with the horses”, she explained.  “As you heard from Roger there are lots of animals on the farm, including a variety of horses and a donkey.  You’re invited to select an animal you identify with and share with us why you picked it.”

Deb offered to go first.  She shared that she felt the most connected with Honey, the golden retriever who was still actively pestering us to throw his ball. She shared that she had a golden at home and considered herself a life-long dog lover. 

Ashley jumped in that she too felt closest to the dog.  She continued that she really liked the horses and thought the reindeer and goats were cool, she just hasn’t had much experience with them.

Next, Lori shared that she identified with the black, white, and brown tri-color paint horse grazing in the front pasture. 

“See that pretty mare walking toward the automatic waterer” she asked.  She reminds me of my first show horse, Suzie.  I showed her up until I decided to use her as a brood mare.  I still have her and her son in my backyard stable.  Suzie is now an old lady and has Cushing’s, so I’m not sure how long she’ll be with us. 

Roger jumped in next, sharing that his favorite critter was his goat, Daisy.  Daisy followed him around like a dog.  He definitely was her “person”. 

Ann was deep in thought, apparently finding it challenging to pick an animal.  Not wanting to break her concentration, everyone patiently waited as she scanned the property clearly weighing her options. 

After several minutes, she declared, “I identify most with the flies buzzing around.  They are constantly on the move, getting into a lot of shit.  That’s what my life feels like right now.  Super busy and full of shit.”

I didn’t know what to say, so looked to Stacie to respond.  She’d been friends with Ann her whole life, both attending the same grade throughout their school years and riding horses together forever.  Stacie was also a licensed mental health professional, so I knew she was well versed in what to say that wouldn’t make Ann feel awkward or blow the situation up.  All the while, I’m thinking to myself, A fly?  Really?  What’s going on behind that choice?

Stacie calmly thanked everyone for sharing adding that we appreciated everyone’s vulnerability, completely ignoring Ann unusual response.  She invited us to our next activity which was extended appendages. 

Everyone stood up and moved toward the roundpen where my beautiful bay colored gelding, Al, waited.  An English saddle, saddle pad, and halter hung on the rails, irons dangling over the sides.   We asked for three volunteers.  Ann declared that we just wanted to observe.  Roger, Deb, and Lori told us they were game.  We invited them to decide who was going to be the “brain”, and what two people were going to be the “arms”.  The brain is the only one who can talk and they will tell the arms what to do in order to saddle Al.  We asked the three to link arms, so Deb moved to one side, Roger stayed in the middle, and Lori moved to the opposite side of Roger.       

The next twenty minutes was filled with laughter, by everyone but Ann, as the “brain” asked the “arms” to saddle Al, while he stepped sideways, making it difficult to even put on the saddle pad, let alone the saddle! 

Following a short debrief about the importance of clear communication, as well as the implications of miscommunication.  We explored the significance of each participant trusting each other to not do anything that would make the situation dangerous.  That conversation let to our acknowledging that Al didn’t bolt or get too upset, reading the positive energy of the participants.

There was time for one more activity before we would close and have lunch together.  We asked Roger, Lori and Ashley to go with Stacie who would provide them with their instructions.  Ann and Deb would stay with me, where I would tell them what their job was.  Stace whispered to her group that their job was to move Al a full circle clockwise around the arena.  You guessed it, I told my two ladies that there job was to move Al a full counterclockwise.  Once they had their instruction, we brought them all together, letting Al off his lead.

Each group raised their arms, trying to push Al in the direction they were instructed to go.  It didn’t take them long to figure out they’d been given conflicting instructions.  At this point, Lori, Roger, Deb, and Ashley figured out if they worked together, going way and then the other, both groups would meet their goals.  Ann, on the other hand, didn’t join the others. 

She declared, “This is total bullshit!  You set us up.  I’m out of here”.  Then, she stomped off and headed toward her bright blue dually with “Drafty Barn” horse magnets on the sides.  Our horse partner, Al, sensed her anger, bolting across the arena, wringing his neck out of frustration. 

I turned to Stacie, inquiring in front of the group, “Would Ann be okay and was there some damage control we should be concerned with?”

Thinking to myself, the whole fly selection in the opening activity now made more sense.  Ann must be experiencing a lot of self-doubt, feeling compelled to lash out at anything and anyone who she deemed had wronged her in some way.        

Stacie responded, “Nah, this is how she can be sometimes.  I’ll call her later and check in once she’s had a chance to settle down.” 

One could sense the rest of the group was relieved with Stacie’s response, because Ann had put on quite a show.  Since Stacie was the only person with a close connection to Ann, her abrupt departure didn’t really impact the other participants. 

We re-grouped, finishing up our day together with an activity called lie detector.  Ashely was invited to ride Al, then share with us two stories, one truthful and one lie.

During the first story she told, Al walked quietly around the arena as Stacie led him, holding the lead rope softly in her hand.  When she finished that story, Stace turned Al in the opposite direction around the arena, inviting Ash to share a second tale. 

As soon as she started talking again Al began acting up.  He swished his head back and forth; then nipped at Stacie’s hand holding the rope.  Since this was one of our first times partnering with him for an EAL session, Stacie interpreted his behavior as him being a jerk, so she sought to correct him by pulling strongly on the lead. 

When Ashely finished her second story, we asked her mom, Deb, if she could tell which one was the lie.  Deb guessed it was the first one, based on some of facts that Ashley shared.  Much to her surprise, Ash told her the lie was the second one!  Now, Al’s behavior made sense. He was reading the incongruence of Ashley’s words and the truth.  Thus, the name of the activity “lie detector”.  He could detect the disconnect, even her own mother couldn’t!         

From this day forward, Stacie and I recognized that there was no such thing as JUST a “demo” or demonstration.  The therapeutic nature of partnering with horses was always present.  That this work was incredibly powerful, tapping into the emotions and feelings of the participants, however they show up in the space.

Recall a time when you felt your trust was betrayed, when you thought you were “set up”.   What did you do?

Think about your current relationships.  Describe the most trustworthy ones.  What is present in those relationships?

In the future, what can you do or not do to create more trust? 

SELF-ASSURANCE

SELF-ASSURANCE

I was regularly approached by people in the equine industry interested in learning about what I do.  I’ve always been very generous with my knowledge and time, living into the assumption that the people I meet cannot replicate what I do because they aren’t me.  They don’t have the same education, experience, or wisdom.   A perspective validated by the parable of the blind scholars; that each person brings their own unique and individual perspectives.

The story of the blind scholars and the elephant is an ancient parable from Dharmic traditions (Hindu, Buddhist, Jain) about several blind men touching different parts of an elephant and describing it based on their limited experience—one says it's like a wall (side), another a snake (trunk), a third a spear (tusk), etc.—illustrating how subjective partial experiences can lead to conflicting but partially true perspectives, emphasizing the need for humility, collaboration, and broader understanding to grasp a complete truth.

I can’t count the number of times where I’m introducing myself to someone and they will nonchalantly mention that they’ve met me and have visited Kaleidoscope.  Huh? My thought is that in the early days of equine-assisted services emerging as an industry there were very few of us providers who offered professional operations.  My half-million dollar heated indoor barn and facility were clearly an exception to the backyard educators and mental health professionals passionate about partnering with horses to help humans.  Additionally, my level of education was also unusual.  The developing field of equine-assisted learning and mental health was building the car as it was driving and I was one of the early engineers. 

There’s only one time that I’m aware of where my generous spirit bit me in the hinder.  After a tour of the farm, I can still picture a short-haired blond woman, Susan, with a cast on her right leg sitting at my tan-colored tiled kitchen table, a pair of crutches leaning on the green floral wallpaper.  She had asked me if she could learn about my work as she was going to be partnering with a residential boy’s ranch in Texas.  She was helping the Wrangler there develop an equine program focusing on life skills.  While the populations we served were different, mine being primarily professional development and personal growth; some of my insights could save them time and money, learning from my mistakes and successes. 

Our meeting was nothing special, I’d shared my insights and experiences with countless practitioners.  What happened following the meeting definitely set this experience apart from the others.  A couple weeks after Susan visited the farm, I received a call from Ellen, my tech support.  She informed me that someone, a boy’s residential ranch in Texas, had copied every single word of my website.  Even the corny puns!  They had swapped out my pictures with ones of their own. The way that the tech company caught them was because the website stealers missed one of the links at the bottom of the page.  This link provided a direct email to my tech company. 

I was mortified. I felt as if I had been physically robbed.  While the old saying that imitation is the highest form of flattery, this felt like a personal invasion.  A slap in the face to all things collaborative.  That by helping a fellow Equine-Assisted Learning (EAL) provider, I had been personally violated.  My creative work had been taken without my consent, approval, or blessing.

The next question was what to do.  I contacted my local attorney, Tom, who referred me to the larger legal firm I used to trademark my company name.  Because all things intellectual property on the internet was still in its’ infancy, it was more likely the larger firm would have the resources to help me.

I met with George, a lanky, pin-striped suited grey-haired attorney who kindly explained that unless I had trade-marked each page each time I made changes, I had no legal ownership to my own work.  A website like mine was dynamic, in constant flux, continually being updated with new program information and offerings.   

I was crushed. I wanted these people to be held accountable.  They didn’t just take my writing, their deception threatened to undermine my belief in people.  As an entrepreneur, I often found myself in a place of self-doubt.  Especially, because the services I provided could be considered a “unicorn”. It was challenging to validate the effectiveness and efficacy of our work because of the lack of research.  This was especially challenging because it was at a time when “evidence-based practices” were all the rage.  Many vendors and funding sources required evidence to be even considered for their company’s training and development programming.   

George and I decided that he would send a “cease and desist” order to scare them in hopes they would take the site down.  In truth, if they ignored the letter, we had no recourse.  George would carefully craft an approach that was truthful, sounding all lawyerly,  though was still just an empty threat.  We crossed our fingers that they would assume I legally owned my work, meaning they had no right to it without my permission. 

In the meantime, I called the Ranch in Texas to let them know what transpired.  I spoke to the Executive Director, Dave, who explained that the cowboy Wrangler, that Susan told me about, who ran the equine program was no longer working for the Ranch.  He basically said that it wasn’t his problem because he had no knowledge of the situation.  I was shocked that this man who was in charge of “helping at-risk young men provide professional programs and services in a Christ-centered atmosphere to strengthen families and support the overall development of children” would be so callus and complicit.  And yet, here he was.  Again, my faith in people working in a similar industry was threatened.

A few days after my phone conversation with Dave, I received a phone call from my attorney, George, letting me know that the Ranch had contacted him and would comply with our request.  Our creative approach of a threat which we couldn’t follow through on worked.  Out of pocket, it cost me a few hundred dollars for the attorney’s time and to send the letter by registered mail. 

A hidden potential cost was my faith in other EAL providers, the loss of a willingness to be collaborative. I decided that the best way to reframe that hurt was to continue to be generous in spite of the actions of some people who did not share my values. 

That the greatest act of revenge against those unscrupulous people in Texas was not to publicly hold them accountable (tempting as that was).  I was also afraid that because of their lack of morals, attacking them could further damage me and my reputation.  My self-assurance that one bad experience need not limit my future generosity was gained through reflecting on what my equine partners taught and continue to teach me.  I bucked and kicked out - moved the other “horse” into action (taking down the website) - then it was time to go back to grazing.

Recall a time when you were self-assured, having confidence in your character and abilities.  What were the conditions that supported this positive self-talk?

Did you ever have this confidence threatened by an experience?  If so, what happened?

Name the practices you apply in order to balance self-assurance with humility. 

ENGAGED LEARNING

ENGAGED LEARNING

Sitting around the light oak wooden kitchen table, five participants scanned their spiral notebooks.  Each selected different colored markers to decorate the cover and add their name.  The kitchen sat adjacent to the living room, where we could see a coffee and end tables piled high with papers, folders, and other clutter.  An orange tabby cat weaved in and out of our legs, bending its’ body and rubbing on us. While a black and white tuxedo kitty lounged on the back of a couch on top of a folded crocheted brightly colored afgan.

The participants were coming together for an Individual Women’s Series.  We held it at a friend of Stacie’s, Tina, at her Happy Hallow Ranch.  Tina was intrigued by the concept of partnering with horses for personal growth.   So, we worked out an arrangement to lease her house, indoor arena, and horses to host the five evening sessions from 6 p.m. to 9 p.m.  The themes for the sessions were:

            New Beginnings – Introduction to Self & Group

            Visioning – Creating Your Plan for the Future

            Setting Boundaries – The Power of Saying “No”

            Overcoming Obstacles & Barriers

            I Can, I Will, I Am

This sequence of sessions focused on investigating, understanding, and creating a personal vision statement.  We incorporated a variety of approaches designed to engage all the participants, independent of their learning styles and life experiences.  This included time for reflection, whole group dialogue, pair and share discussions, and journalling.  The workbook housed such items as a “Participants Bill of Rights”, an exercise designed to help identify values, and resources explaining how to manage complex change.        

Stacie and I began the first meeting by offering an overview of what we envisioned the program would look like each time we came together for our evening sessions.  Over light healthy snacks, we’d begin in the house with a discussion about the evening’s topic and a review of their experiences from the week prior.  After learning about each other’s insights, we’d move to the arena to partner with the horses.  The activities with the horses would build off of the discussion, focusing on the sessions’ theme.

Once everyone’s questions were answered, we bundled up, putting on hats, scarves, and gloves getting ready to brave the February Michigan weather.  We headed out into the cold, towards the unheated indoor arena where five furry horses were wandering around, sniffing and pawing the dirt.

While Andrea was still back at the house using the restroom, the four other ladies, our host Tina, and Stacie and I made small talk.  Someone asked about the horses, so Tina told the ladies about the backgrounds of her Egyptian Arabian horses.  The tallest, a mare about 15 years old, was blond in color.  Tina shared that she was a brood mare that has been part of her herd since the beginning. She mentioned that she is a real sweetheart and loves to be around people.  The second mare, who stood a little shorter, came to Tina’s herd later in life.   She’s almost twenty years old and could be really difficult to catch and halter.  The third horse was a gelding.  He was the son of the first horse.  Another “lifer” or one who has been on Tina’s farm since birth.  Horse four was another gelding, a solid black boy that Tina explained was origTinally part of her breeding program until she decided to geld him.  Lastly, there was a furry miniature horse that she bought when looking for a companion to an older blind mare who was no longer with us. 

When Andrea rejoined the group, I explained that similar to meeting and greeting each other in the kitchen, we were now going to meet and greet our horse partners.  Following the meet and greet activity and debrief, we moved into our next activity which was catch and halter.

We invited the five participants to pick a horse in their minds, though not tell anyone which horse they picked.  Then, we randomly put the group in line.  Each person would grab a halter from the pile, then halter their selected horse, leading them back to the line.  Simple right?  We explained the activity could provide us with a way to learn more about the thoughts behind everyone’s choices, as well as their decision-making in the event more than one person selected the same horse.

First to the pile of halters was Andrea.  She untangled a halter from the pile, marched straight towards the 20-year-old “hard to catch” mare.  She gently put the halter on her face, then led her back to the line, easy peasy.  The other participants stopped their own haltering, swiveled their heads to look surprisingly at each other and us.  What just happened?  According to Tina, this mare was supposed to be hard to catch?  Because Andrea wasn’t there when Tina shared that information, she held no pre-conceived notions about the catchability of the mare.

This opening experience set the tone for our entire time together.  The “accidental” opportunity to learn organically, collectively, and vulnerably created a container that instantly invited honest dialogue and sharing.  We had no way of knowing at the beginning that by bonding so quickly would lead to a life-changing fTinal activity for Vicky.         

The last class of our series was an activity known in therapeutic sessions as “lie detector”. Each participant rides a horse, bareback, with a surcingle (a wide strap that runs over the back and under the belly of a horse) belt around the horses’ waist.  The rider then read the personal mission statement they created after four sessions of exploring boundaries, obstacles, and visioning.  The horse responded as a sensor or mirror to the person, reading the energy and congruence of the human.  

After a brief introduction of how to safely dismount a horse, we invited Vicky to mount the horse she selected.  She bent her left leg, into Stacie’s cupped hands, then swung the right one over the back of the horse.  Once on, she wiggled her bottom, settling into her seat for balance, then grasped the surcingle.  After handing me the reins, Stacie moved off to the side of the arena to observe.  I waited for her to move the horse.  My job was to support the rider by staying present, coaching her through the experience. That meant lightly holding the line, but not influencing the speed, direction, or movement of the horse. 

Vicky unfolded her notes, then began telling us that this story about her and her Dad.  She was visibly shaken.  The horse, Pharoh, stood perfectly still.  I invited her to take a couple deep breaths.  Once she finished the second breath, Pharoh walked forward as if he’s been given permission to move.  Vicky told us that her father unexpectantly died recently.  Clop.  Clop.  Clop.  Pharoh moved forward.  Then he stopped.  Vicky cried softly.  She dug a tissue out of her pocket to wipe her eyes, then blew her nose.  I asked her if she noticed that she’s not moving anymore?  She nodded her head yes, holding back more tears.  We stayed in this space for a bit longer. 

She then took another deep breath, re-engaging Pharoh in a walk.  We moved slowly around the arena.  She told us that the last phone conversation she had before her dad died was a fight.  He didn’t want her to take a job she was offered, explaining that he thought it was short-sighted, not giving her the freedom she craved.  She shared that she shouted back that it was her life; she would take the job if she thought that was the right thing to do. 

At this point Pharoh stopped again.  He had positioned himself so that he was in the corner looking at the wall.  I asked her to look up from the paper to see where Pharoh led her.  She started to cry even harder sharing that the wall in front of her felt like the wall of shame and guilt that she couldn’t get over.  She was struggling with finding a way to forgive herself for that last conversation with her Dad.  Vicky loved/s her Dad deeply, regretting not telling him that before he passed. 

After she was able to catch her breath, I asked if she believed in something larger than herself.  If her worldview included a God, or other spirit that she could speak to.  She said she did.  At this point, Pharoh turned from the wall, moving forward again.  Vicky, recognized that Pharoh was moving forward, which meant she could too!  She stated out loud that she was sorry, asking God and her Dad to forgive her.  She declared that she loved her Dad dearly, that she knew he always wanted what was best for her. 

The activity over, Vicky dismounted, threw her arms around his neck and hugged on Pharoh, thanking him for offering himself to her.  He gave a whole-body shake, releasing the tension he’d been carrying through the activity.  He then yawned, further letting go of the energy he’d held for her.  

Share a time when you were engaged in learning something about yourself.  How did it feel in your in your body?  What did you notice about that feeling?

Did the feeling shift or change when you paid attention to it?

Is there anything from that experience that you can apply to something happening in your life today?

What advise would give your future self in order to create more engaged learning experiences? 

COMMUNITY

COMMUNITY

Talking over the buzz of the heaters in my indoor arena, I introduced seven elementary school teachers to our two miniature horses. Mickey and Minnie’s long shaggy coats made them appear twice as heavy, as if they were wearing puffy coats.  Their chin hairs feathered well below their jaw line and the hair from their legs covered the tops of their tiny hooves.  Our short “woolly mammoths” meandered around the arena, sniffing, then rolling in the dirt.  For a horse, a prey animal, rolling is a sign they are feeling safe enough to show their underbelly.  For us facilitators, it’s a sign the group energy is calm.

Our last activity of the day we invited the teachers, all women, to participate in an exercise called billiards.  It’s called billiards because at either end of the arena are two “pockets” or boxed-in areas defined by white pvc pipes. The stated goal is to get each of the horses in these pockets.  Each time a horse is in the pocket the team gets a point.  The REAL goal is for my co-facilitator and I to watch the interactions, responses, and decision-making of the participants.  How they work together to achieve the stated goal enables us to support them in improving their communication skills. 

This experiential activity can bring to light blind spots or barriers that may be getting in the way of the group being more effective, healthy, and happy.  We also pay close attention to the responses and reactions of our horse partners.  What is their energy level?  How are they engaged in the activity?  Do they connect with the participants or try to get away from them?    

We began the billiards activity by asking all the participants to create a single line.  Today, we asked them to create the order by eye color, darkest to lightest, without talking. In between snickers and giggles, each person looked into the others’ eyes, then shuffled into a line.  One person grabbed another by their coat and shifted someone else in front of them – clearly indicating they believed the second person’s eyes were a browner brown.

Once they were happy with their line, they turned to Stacie and I, indicating they were ready to get started.  We then moved the established line nearer the arena wall between two black buckets with handles filled with water.  We instructed the group that one of the rules of the activity was they were required to stay between the buckets. We explained that each person would be given a turn to leave the line, move into the area where Mickey and Minnie were wandering, then try to get a horse into a pocket without touching them.  We told them that after three minutes, we would call “time” indicating the next person’s turn. 

Typically, a group will start with the individual leaving the line, independently trying to get a horse into a pocket.  After watching a few unsuccessful attempts by individuals, it can become clear to those further down the line that there may be other alternatives.  One possibility might be inviting the group to move as a whole line with the people on each end holding the buckets.  This means that they are still between the buckets, thus, not breaking the rule.  We’ve witnessed groups figure this part out yet not consider emptying the water!  We plant this “seed” by repeatedly reminding the group that they must stay between the buckets, even though they haven’t made any attempt to break free from them.    

Person number one left the line and started chasing the horses, trying to move them toward the pockets.  Mick and Min took off running, moving away from the pressure of the person chasing them.  The horses ran, one behind the other, in a circle, completely avoiding the pvc piped areas at the ends of the arena.  Time.  Person one shrugged at the people in the line before taking her place at the end of the line.  Person two left the line, picking up where her peer left off.  More horse running.  More dust kicked up into the air.  Time.  Person two gets back in line while person three runs into the horse space, continuing the same approach.  After each round of being chased, Mick and Min stand still, panting, trying to catch their breath. They huff and puff, their little chests heaving in and out, with pink tongues dangling from their mouths.

Participant number four recognized the ponies are getting overworked; because she can talk without a consequence during her turn, she announces to her colleagues that she isn’t going to chase them.  She tells her co-workers that she’s going to give the horses a chance to catch their breath. Time. Person five takes off from the line, running after the horses, ignoring the approach by the previous teacher.  Mickey and Minnie try to find a place to stop, rather than run, but this person is in hot pursuit!  The arena blowers have been running since we began, bringing the temperature in the arena to a balmy 65 degrees, even though it is near zero outside.     

Let’s call person five Donna.  Donna had been a teacher a long time.  As stated above, when her turn came to get the horses into the pockets she chased, pushing them as much as possible.  She was determined to reach the goal of horses in pockets.  After watching her, Stacie and I got really concerned for our horses.  We were afraid of them overheating.  The heavy hair coats could lead to sweating, then chills or something worse. In light of the physical risk to the horses, I called an end to the activity, explaining to everyone we had to stop for the safety of the horses. Everyone except Donna looked relieved. Donna looked confused.  The other teachers tried to gently explain to Donna that she was pushing the horses too hard.  She denied doing anything wrong, explaining (justifying?) she was simply working to reach the goal imposed by the facilitators.

Let’s step away from the horse activity for a brief moment to give some context.  This educational in-service training took place in the early 2000’s.  A time when “No Child Left Behind” was in place.  This federal educational initiative is now recognized as a failed attempt which held schools accountable for student performance.  “Teaching to the test” became school culture in order to get federal funding. 

Donna was just a year and a half shy of retirement.  It was clear to us based on earlier conversations that she wasn’t going to risk tarnishing her retirement goal by going “soft” on kids.  She’d been an elementary teacher for 30 + years and she “knew” what worked for her students.  She dug her heels into what she believed mattered, goal focused, blind to any unintended consequences. Our awareness of her worldview and her earlier denial led us to believe that Donna wouldn’t acknowledge her role in stressing out and potentially harming Mickey and Minnie.   So, we shifted our processing of the horse activity toward life outside the arena. 

I started by inquiring about the ownership each individual has in situations where one witnesses a behavior you don’t agree is the best choice.  Stace added that she wondered if anyone in the group had ever witnessed someone doing something they considered potentially harmful.  If they ever thought to themselves, that’s not how I would handle the situation.  All heads nodded affirmatively.

“What did you decided to do?”  I inquired.

The woman in the red cowboy boots shared that she remembered a time when her fellow second grade teacher experienced a challenging situation with a student who kept disrupting class.  Her peers response was to remove him from the classroom.  When this teacher learned of her partner-teacher’s disciplinary action, she shared that she, too, found this particular student challenging.  Boots suggested that an effective approach that worked for her was to talk to the student, helping him understand the impact of his behavior on the rest of the class.  She further communicated that once he felt he had the support of his teacher, he was more willing to work on paying attention, thus his disruptions lessoned. 

“Thank you for that example” Stacie said. 

“Let’s unpack what the circumstances that made it comfortable enough for you to offer your advice.  Would you say that you have a good relationship with the other second grade teacher?” I inquired.

“Yes, we’ve worked together for six years.” She responded.

“What words would you use to describe your relationship?” I asked.

“Trusting.  We’re both focused and committed to what’s best for the kids – all the kids – you know, on the same page so to speak.” She explained. 

Without naming Donna’s behavior specifically, we had invited discussion about ownership, responsibilities, and choices.  The other teachers seemed aware that Donna treated her students similar to the ways she treated my horses.  It was likely they all had witnessed her goal-focused behavior, regardless of the harm to her students. We wrapped up the conversation by sharing one of our favorite mantra’s, “change what you can and let the rest go.”  The energy in the debriefing conversation changed, from tense to curious, when the other teachers recognized their responsibility was to focus on what they could do, not what they couldn’t.    

We are all a part of a variety of communities.  Recall a time when someone in your inner circle trusted your relationship enough to share with you something that was difficult to hear.

What did you learn from that exchange that impacts your life today?

Can you imagine a time in the future where the lessons learned from that exchange will be helpful?

BOUNDARIES

BOUNDARIES

My draft mare and soul horse, Tigger, trained me very well to give her scratches before she left her stall each morning.  To get a sense of her size, I’m 5’5” and can’t see over the middle of her back.  Each time I’d go into her stall, dangling halter in hand, she’d drop her huge head and wait – all 1,800 pounds of huggable, furry, immovable, horse standing solidly asking for me to give her some love. Most days this action brought me pure joy, providing me a moment of being fully present.

Then there were the times when I was running late and “had” to get horses out NOW.  My tardiness did not matter one iota to this gentle giant.  To get her forward movement I would be required to take the time to let her know I loved her – even briefly – before those dinner plate sized feet were going to cross the entrance of her stall.  What a gift she gave me – a required time to pause, even if I didn’t want to or think it was the priority at the time. 

The behavior of stopping to be scratched before leaving her stall was a complete waste of time to my barn manager, Tam.  Tam believed Tigger’s request was the opposite of joyful.   For this life-long horse woman, it was straight-up disrespectful.  She would insist that Tigger move out of her stall when asked.  Tam wasn’t real happy with me either, since I’m the one that created, and actively supported, this bad-mannered behavior!     

Tiggs size is not the predominant factor in her getting her way in our exchange.  It was a combination of her asking and my willingness to respond to her request.  Animals training their humans can take many forms.  Kunigunda is my 8.8 lb. rescue dog who also has me well trained (I’m seeing a pattern here?!).  This little white ball of fluff that looks like a toy instead of real dog, has figured out that when I am on the phone, or a zoom call, if she barks and bats at me with her tiny paws that I will give her treats.  This behavior has been repeatedly rewarded to the point that to be able to participate, without incessant background barking, I have to remove her, shutting the doors to my office!

For those of us in the equine world, getting even the slightest lean (physical shift) into a scary wash rack or horse-eating trailer is a positive result when you are asking a frightened horse to move forward.   One rewards their desired behavior by taking the pressure off, in hopes that the horse will move farther in the desired direction the next time we try.  Horse training is always best when it is on the horse’s timeframe.  Meaning, there’s a core belief with all the horse-people I know that you never end a training session where the horse “wins”.  A horse win could be the equine not moving forward or even backing up further away from your goal.  The human must stay committed to the horse’s learning.  Though if the goal is a full step into the washrack or trailer and time is running out, you’ll take the lean as a win, calling it good. 

You may be wondering why horses would be so frightened of a washrack or horse trailer.  Put yourself in this prey animals’ hooves.  Usually wash stalls are dark, so are the insides of horse trailers.  Both sort of look like the entrance to a cave.  In a horse’s mind there could be a cougar, lion, or other meat-eating animal crouching inside that black space.  Better to avoid it in order stay alive.

What does “lean in” look like in a human context?  Much has been written and researched regarding human decision-making, which usually begins with self-awareness.  The depth of information is vast, from physical considerations like brain research, to mindsets, personality types, learning styles, as well as the effects of various experiences, such as trauma (big T and little t). 

Speed of movement is also something to pay attention to when working with horses.  Managing the optimum speed for the best results.  One solution to a horse moving forward too quickly is to turn them. Let’s say you’re out on a trail ride on your horse.  Beautiful day, slight breeze, puffy white clouds on a bright blue background, chirping birds.  Calmly walking your horse enjoying nature’s bounty.  Along comes one of the world’s scariest creatures.  A squirrel swiftly darts across the path in front of you, startling your noble steed.  Your horse bolts, taking off at a dead run for the safety of the barn. 

You hang on, seeking an open space to be able to turn your horse.  If you’re riding with a bridle, the rider can literally pull a rein (right or left) to make the horse stop going straight.  This redirection pulls them back in their body.  By bending instead of simply running straight, they are forced to pay attention.  Once you have their attention, then the human can work with their horse to reset themselves in order to walk calmly back on the trail. 

One human equivalent to pulling on a rein or re-direction yourself is grounding.  Deep breathing is one way to get grounded, accessing your vagal nerves.  The vagal nerves carry signals between your brain, heart, and digestive system. They’re a key part of your parasympathetic nervous system.  Your parasympathetic nervous system controls “rest and digest” functions. It’s the opposite of your sympathetic nervous system’s “fight or flight” response.

When considering self-awareness, there are many tools, techniques, assessments, and resources to help an individual craft an accurate (at that time) profile of the self.  Tools are devices designed to carry out a function, while techniques are how you use them.  For instance, say you’ve got a lead rope or leash, that’s your tool.  Your success depends on how you use it, that’s the technique. 

Self-awareness is a moving target, evolving as we discover, learn, and grow. If you choose to use feedback from others as a means of increasing your self-awareness, be certain to consider the others’ motives, their role, and incentives.  Feedback is always about the sender, it may or may not be about the receiver.    

Additionally, there are alternative theories, healing modalities, and spiritual practices that humans hold which invite movement or action.  I’m referring to invisible energy fields, the power of prayer, reiki, meditation, etc.  There is increasing science behind how thoughts, emotions, and beliefs have healing power.  There is a fascinating link between consciousness and human connection, as well as the relationship between suppressed emotions and disease.   

Given all of the aforementioned variables, it’s easy to understand why boundary setting can be challenging.  The complexity of setting boundaries, whether for a horse that requests scratches, a puppy that begs for treats, or a friend that takes advantage of you is just that, complex.

Think of the lean-in, horse or human, as a “try”.  With horses, it can be easy to  reward the try.  Give yourself the same grace.  When you lean in, reward your try, then seek to move further into that horse-eating washrack tomorrow.

Recall a time where you set a healthy boundary.  What conditions were present that enabled you to set that boundary?

Is there a current situation where you are feeling taken advantage of?  What do you think you can leverage for the situation to change to be better for you?

What actions are you going to try and who will hold you accountable?

CONFIDENCE

CONFIDENCE

“We Left Our Barn Door Open” postcards with playful artwork telling people to “Hold their Horses” were mailed to Frankenmuth Chamber of Commerce members.  The night before the big reveal, several friends helped with last minute cleaning of floors, setting up tables for displays, creating a welcoming place ready for guests.  Randy helped me position my perfectly cleaned and detailed new dually with a four-horse slant trailer in the arena next to the roundpen.  We placed plywood on the dirt floor deep into the arena near the conference room entrance, creating a stable foundation (pun intended).  We ran power cords, covering them with guards into the space where the band would set up tomorrow afternoon.   

Food was being prepared by a local caterer and artist, Val.  She made custom tabletop signs for each dish with colorful images and descriptions, tucked neatly into horsey-themed bases.  The plan was to have the horses at liberty in the roundpen, offering two short demonstrations of equine-assisted learning.  All the little details were being given careful attention with the goal of providing locals with an remarkable first impression.      

A few things would have to wait until the morning to be completed – the final picking of stalls, sweeping, and any last minute cleaning.  Once we felt we’d done all we could for the night, the seven of us sat around drinking cold beer, swapping stories.  Our laughter stopped when we saw headlights brightly through the front windows.  Car doors slammed as my childhood neighbors, Bob and Sally, along with my Mom and Dad entered the conference room.

I crossed the room to greet them, “What are you doing here tonight?  The Grand Opening is tomorrow evening?”  I curiously inquired.

“We wanted to see your place, so we took a drive.” My Mother replied.

“We were just curious”, my Dad added.  While Bob and Sally nodded their heads in agreement. 

“Well, since you’re here would you like a tour?”  “I’d love to show you the place.” I asked.

Noticing the people behind sitting around the custom-made kidney shaped island, they declined, explaining they just wanted to say congratulations.  They turned to leave, murmuring platitudes about wishing me a successful event.

Once the door shut, I turned to my stunned friends, declaring, “If anyone ever wonders why I am the way I am, you just saw part of the reason why.  Whose parents don’t want to attend one of the biggest events of their daughter's life?”  Then, again, I mused out loud, “not one family members was interested in attending the graduation ceremonies for my Master’s or my Ph.D., so I guess we’re just not commemorative people.”  I sarcastically added.

Deb stood up from the bar, crossed the room, wrapping me a tight, warm hug.  I hugged her back, thanking her for the gesture.  I then turned toward everyone, through tear-filled eyes, I thanked all of them for being “family”.  Little did I realize how significant that statement would be in the very near future. 

The morning of the Open Barn I hurriedly rushed to get chores done, mentally checking things off my list, matching them to the remaining amount of time I had left.  I hoped to attend noon Rotary; planning to make an announcement about the party. I was hoping to encourage business leaders to come out for it on this cold February Thursday. 

After I finished sweeping the aisle, I smoothly backed my shiny new tractor, with manure spreader attached, into the pole barn to get it out of sight of my future guests.  I removed the cotter key from the hitch between the tractor and the spreader.  Because I was rushed and not present, I absent mindlessly grabbed the 20,000 lb. tongue in an attempt to lower it.  It took my right hand with it when it slammed on the concrete floor.  Stunned, I quickly ripped my crushed fingers out from underneath the red metal monster.  Blood gushed, squirting everywhere.  I grabbed an old towel from a ledge in the pole barn, wrapping it around my torn fingers. 

My first thought, as the throbbing started, was wondering how much aspirin related medicine I could safety take.  I called my friend Sara who had once worked for a pharmaceutical company.  I told Sara what happened, inquiring about the pain medicine. 

“How many tylonal and how many advill can I take?”  Not rattled by my question, she told me the amount then asked if I needed help. 

“No”, I told her. “I planned to wrap a plastic bag around my hand, then take a shower.  There was just enough time for me to get dressed, and still get to Rotary on time,” I replied. 

Being right handed, I struggled to figure out how to tie the string around my right wrist so the bag would be waterproof. Unable to secure it, I called my future husband, Randy, asking him to come and help me.  He said he’d be right over. 

He took one look at my bloody and shredded middle and ring fingers, then declared we are going to med express.  I protested.  He was having none of it. 

At our local med express, they unwrapped my hand, then laid it on the x-ray machine.  The tech inappropriately said, “Wow, you really mangled it!”  A few short minutes later, the tech came back into the room, telling us we would need to go to the emergency room in Saginaw.  There was nothing they could do for us here.  The two fingers were broken, the flesh needed to be stitched back together.

Randy drove me to the emergency room 20 minutes away.  We checked me in, then found an uncomfortable bench in the waiting room, surrounded by others in various stages of distress. 

Settling in to the reality that I might not make the grand opening and recognizing that I definitely was not going to be able to complete my finishing touches, I moved into problem-solving mode.  I started calling in the troops – those people who I had confidence would step up and step in to make wonderful things happen.  Each of them told me in their own way that they would “hold down the farm” until I got there.  Trusting my friends would do their best, along with recognizing there was nothing I could do about it, I shuddered a deep, full body sigh then started sobbing on Randy’s shoulder. 

I grieved the loss of what I imagined it would feel like to see all the cars driving in, greeting people, the pride of showing off the months of hard work, decision-making, and stress.  I grieved the potential loss of my fingers.  I cried tears of gratitude for friends who, without hesitation, made this event a priority, confident that they would exceed my expectations. I cried for the love and support I felt from Randy, appreciating his non-judgement and “being thereness” of the moment.

Shortly after I wiped my tears and the snot off my face, I heard my name called.  We were checked into a room by the nurse, told to wait for the doc.  Two white coated men came into the room and introduced themselves.  One was the lead emergency doc, the other a resident in training. 

The emergency doc unwrapped my right hand from the bondage the med express people had put on it.  He poked it with a couple of shots for pain relief, then explained he’d be sewing them up, setting them with a splint.  He also gave me a tetanus shot.  It was a manure spreader accident after all.

He was kind, present, and genuine.  He explained, while cutting a piece of plastic, that he was trying to create something to simulate a fingernail since mine was completely missing on my ring finger.  He told me it was unlikely that the fingernail would grow back normally because of the injury.  He suggested I see a plastic surgeon once the wound healed. 

In case you’re wondering, I have a daily reminder of the accident because of the missing nail.  A really fun hangnail grows every month or so and I haven’t painted my fingers nails in twenty-five years.  Randy jokes I would get a finger-discount on a manicure. 

I shared with the doctor that I was going to be throwing a party in about a half-hour for 200 of my closest friends.  I explained that we had a couple kegs of beer, and that some of that cold brew had my name on it.  I asked him if it be possible to be given pain killers that mixed okay with alcohol? 

He shared that he was a home beer brewer, so he understood.  He gave me two prescriptions.  One beer-friendly for this evening.  The second, stronger for the future.  Small gestures of kindness can mean so much in difficult times!

We drove to the farm, past cars parked all along the driveway and the overflowing the parking lot.  I walked into the conference room filled with smiling, joyful people happy to see I was okay. 

After many, many hugs, pats on the back, and well wishes it was time for our demo.  All the horses were moving comfortably around the roundpen enjoying the attention of the crowd in the arena surrounding them.  I took the microphone, raised my bandaged right hand high, then explained that this was not a horse-related injury.  I told them a rouge manure spreader had attacked me.   Through tears, I shared how incredibly grateful and blessed I was for all the friends and family who helped make this dream come true!       

Can you recall a time when you were confident you could count on others to represent you well?

What were the conditions that gave you that confidence?

What actions can you take in the future to create additional relationships that you can confidently count on?