“We must be free not because we claim freedom, but because we practice it.” –William Faulkner
Last Sunday my son and I watched the animated movie Spirit, stallion of the Cimarron. Now, if you haven’t seen the movie, it is about a young mustang stallion who sets on an near impossible quest to save his freedom and his homeland. It’s a tear jerker to say the least. My son and I were both sobbing at several occasions. Mind you, we are talking about an animated movie so there are no real horses involved. But that doesn’t mean the real issues we have with horses are not present.
The scene where Spirit is captured for the first time is brutal. Here is this beautiful, strong and wild stallion with ropes around his neck and people pulling and jerking left and right in the attempt to control him. My son covered his eyes in anguish.
“Mom, what are they doing!” he cried out.
In lack of a better expression, I said “They are breaking him.” Because isn’t that what they were doing, breaking his spirit? Interestingly enough in English the term “to break a horse” refers to the training he is given by humans. When you look this term up in the dictionary the definition says: “to tame or make obedient with force”. Exactly.
“What does that mean, they are breaking him?” My son was distressed as he watched the horse fight the humans with all his might, kicking, biting and whirling around trying to free himself from the ropes.
“Well, that’s that they call it in English.” I reverted to Finnish, my native language and said: “It means they are trying to train him.”
My son looked over at me, his eyes streaming with tears. “But mom, that’s not training!”
Oh no, it wasn’t training, it was breaking. And yes, perhaps DreamWorks had exaggerated the process for the sake of movie making and storytelling, but the essence of that act was there, nevertheless. It was breaking; the people were breaking the spirit of the horse.
In the course of the movie Spirit befriends a young Native American man, who falls in love with this beautiful animal. The two of them end up connected through life and death situations and fight for their freedom together. In the end, the boy understands that although they can be friends, he can’t own the stallion, nor does he want to. He sets his own, faithful mare free so she can choose to follow Spirit to wherever he takes her, down the mountain and over the hills.
Perhaps this movie is just a creation of someone’s imagination, but the message in it rings true: to love someone, is to let them go free. I cried, and not just because of the touching scenes, but because of the pain I have in my heart for what we have done to the horses in this world, what we continue doing.
Spirit, the movie, might be about a wild mustang captured by humans in the Wild West, but the story goes on and on today, in my backyard and yours. I’m not saying we need to set all horses free and let them roam the land like they did for millions of years before humans came along. I don’t believe that scenario would be realistic in the world we live in. But perhaps we can look at how we treat these animals and why we do the things we do with them. For example, it is definitely convenient for us humans to keep horses living in a box, but is this in the best interest of a horse? How does it mentally affect any animal to be caged up, separated from their peers?
I find it ironic that we watch movies like Spirit, where a horse is fighting against humans, and we are rooting for the horse, not the human. If the humans had succeeded in “taming” Spirit, what would have Spirit's life been like? Let's see... He would have been living in a stall, separated from his heard, gotten used to a saddle and a bridle and been ridden by a soldier. Doesn’t sound much different than the life of an average horse today, does it?
Isn't it interesting that in movies, we are on the horse’s side, but in real life, we really aren’t. We like the idea of a free horse, but we don’t actually like free horses.
In the end of the movie, when I watched the two animated horses canter into freedom, my heart ached. Not because the movie was sad (it had a happy ending after all!), but because it made me think of Little Love who lives isolated in her square box and only gets to go outside when the weather is good and the pastures are dry enough. Today, it has been 10 days since the horses at the nearby barn where she lives have been outside. 10 days. And they are lucky horses. There are horses in this world that never get to run free in a pasture. NEVER. It is shocking, but true.
Next time you are watching a horse movie and you feel yourself choke up, ask yourself a question: why am I moved? Am I moved because the movie is sad or am I moved because life is sad and the contrast between the two is too much to bear?
~K
“The story that I want to tell you cannot be found in a book. They say that the history of the west was written from the saddle of a horse, but it's never been told from the heart of one. Not till now. I was born here, in this place that would come to be called the Old West. But, to my kind, the land was ageless. It had no beginning and no end, no boundary between earth and sky. Like the wind and the buffalo, we belonged here, we would always belong here. They say the mustang is the spirit of the West. Whether that west was won or lost in the end, you'll have to decide for yourself, but the story I want to tell you is true. I was there and I remember. I remember the sun, the sky, and the wind calling my name in a time when we ran free. I'll never forget the sound and the feeling of running together. The hoof beats were many, but our hearts were one." - beginning of the movie Spirit, Stallion of the Cimarron
Saturday, January 30, 2010
Thursday, January 21, 2010
Thinking outside the box
A good question is never answered. It is not a bolt to be tightened into place but a seed to be planted and to bear more seed toward the hope of greening the landscape of idea. ~John Ciardi
I want to tell you about my friend Sam.
Sam and I go a long way. When I lived in California, we used to work together at a barn, teaching our respective students, re-training and riding horses. Already then I had tremendous respect for him, mainly because of the intuition he has with horses, but also because of his ability to think outside the box. I believe I met Sam at a time when I was about ready to start thinking outside the box myself. (I dare say I met him shortly after I had realized there was an actual box to think outside of!)
Sam is still thinking outside the box. In fact, he is living outside of it. He has done what I only dream of doing which is living the way he believes, even if it means financial disaster. He no longer teaches “mainstream” riding, but has turned his focus completely to guiding people in finding their true relationship with horses. He no longer rides horses the “traditional way”, instead he spends time with them on the ground, being and doing what he feels is right by the horse. And unlike me, he won’t work with a student unless they are willing to follow the same path he is on. Sure, he has lost 70 % of his students, he is living hand to mouth, but – he is being true to what he believes, he is being true to his passion. He is walking his talk.
Oh how I admire and envy him.
I look at myself and I feel like a fraud, a coward. How dare I preach about the ethical way to be with horses when I’m still participating in traditional activities that I know rob theses beautiful animals emotionally, psychologically and physically? Sure, I believe in bitless riding and partnership that starts on the ground, yet I teach people who ride in bits and focus on nothing else but the mounted part of their relationship with their horse. Sure, in my heart all I want to do with Little Love is to get to know her, to offer her more and more freedom, to give her choices without force, yet some days I end up riding her in the arena when I know it’s the last thing she needs, but what her owner expects.
I feel like I am stuck between the worlds, entering in and out of the traditional equestrian realm but also hanging onto this other world, this mystical and invisible world horses can offer, the world I so desperately want to be part of, but which seems to be out of reach. But is it really out of reach? Or, am I just a coward who continues a masquerade because she is afraid to stand up publicly for what she truly believes?
At the end of the day, do I even know what I believe? Or what I dream of?
On Tuesday I met up with a woman who called me last week about trying out a bitless bridle on her young horse. Someone had recommended she contact me, and she had, although she wasn’t sure how I could help. I made the appointment, but when the day arrived, I felt reluctant to meet her. I didn’t feel I had the energy to once again diplomatically explain what I thought bits did to horses, I didn’t want to meet her horse and feel his pain and know that it was up to me to persuade the owner to use softer methods. I wanted to give up, to say “the hell with it,” and hide like the coward I was sure I was.
I had obviously forgotten something important: that when you forget something important, life has a way of sending you a reminder.
When I showed up at her barn with my bridles, the lady was waiting for me with a couple of friends. To my surprise they were all extremely open to the idea of not having a bit in the horse’s mouth. I felt encouraged. Not using a bit is a big step for most people, but little do they know how, in the big scheme of things, it is really only a baby step. Bitless riding is good, but the way I see it, it’s only like a foot wedged in the door. Once that door is open, once someone is thinking outside the box for the first time, the possibilities for change are limitless.
We tacked up Rocky, a young gelding with numerous vices (or so I was told) and I climbed on, my heart feeling heavy. I used to ride strange horses all the time and not think anything of it, but this was before I realized how much I was invading their space by doing that. Every time I ride a horse without its permission, I feel like I’m taking advantage of it. But as I walked Rocky around the half frozen arena, I tried not to think of that. In my mind I apologized to him, telling him that really, ordinarily I wouldn’t have been so rude, but in the name of the cause…
I rode Rocky for 20 minutes and with the help of the bitless bridle the horse was transformed from a troublesome youngster to a happy and forward horse listening to the rider’s aids. My audience seemed keen, curious, excited. The youngest, a woman with a quiet demeanor, seemed especially hopeful. She pointed at a hairy pony standing in the snowy pasture next to the arena.
“That’s my horse, he’s an Islandic. I haven’t been able to ride him for a while because every time I try, he goes crazy and I can’t stop him. Nobody can. He’s afraid of strangers and I’m not a good enough rider to feel confident on him, so I don’t ride him. But, now that you are here with that bridle, and you look so confident, would you ride him?”
They all looked at me expectantly. This was a test, I was fully aware of that.
I looked at the ball of fur standing in the snow and went with my instinct.
The crazy Islandic turned out to be everything but crazy. He was just scared, very, very scared. I’m pretty sure the bit in his mouth had not helped the situation. I talked to the horse and as sometimes happens, I could feel his life flashing by me, as he unloaded his baggage, his history. I talked to him about the bitless bridle, explained who I was and why I was going to ride him. I also told him I wouldn’t hurt him in any way. He didn’t like my legs on his sides, so I held them away. He was very aware of my balance so I did my best to stay quietly in the middle of his back. And I sent him love, lots and lots of love. Sort of like a big hug, but in my mind. Sounds a little loopy, but it always works.
If my audience had been sold on the bridle before, now they were floored. Never had this horse been so relaxed, never had he held his head so low and stopped so willingly. Never had he NOT run off with a rider on his back. They couldn’t believe their eyes. The owner walked over to me when I got off.
“Wow,” she said. “I could hear you talking to him and it was as if he understood you. I wish I could ride him, too. But I’m so afraid.”
“Maybe one day you can,” I replied. I looked at her carefully, not sure how much she was willing to receive in terms of information outside the box. “But riding is not everything, there are so many other things you can do with your horse.”
She looked at my quizzically. “Yes, I’ve recently started doing some ground work in the arena.”
“That’s great! Do you enjoy it?”
She nodded. “But my dream is to go on the trails.” Her voice was wistful.
“Why don’t you go on foot and take your horse with you? You wouldn’t be riding, but you would be spending time with your horse – on the trails.” I petted the Islandic. “He’s a great guy.”
Tears started streaming down the owner’s face. I can’t blame her; I was about to cry, too.
“I know, he is a great guy. I don’t know why I never thought of just going on the trails in hand. I was just so stuck on the idea of riding him.” She hugged her horse and he sighed. There was something about that little horse that really touched my heart, too. He was such a damaged soul, yet he was willing to reach out to me when I reached out to him. He helped me remember why I do what I do.
I realize I have two dreams; a collective dream and a personal dream, and as much as it sometimes tears at my conscious, I must keep my personal dream on hold. There are so many ways to go about this path and I have to remember that while some go one way, I can choose to go another. Everyone must go the way that is best for them. The world needs people like Sam, who live like they believe and set an example for others. But just as much the world needs people like me, people who mingle in the “mainstream” equestrian activities and quietly plant the seeds of change. Neither life is easy, as we all are swimming upstream battling thousands of years of “know how” and questioning hundreds of years of equestrian knowledge.
So – perhaps there is hope; perhaps I’m not such a coward after all. I’m just following a different path parallel to other paths.
Tuesday afternoon, when I was driving home from my bitless bridle quest, I felt emotional, like I always do when I have witnessed people thinking outside the box for the first time. I thought of their excitement, their eagerness to know more, to think more. And I thought of how they could barely contain their excitement. “Wow,” they exclaimed in unison, “we never want to use a bit again, that was amazing. Do you teach lessons? We would love to hear more about your ideas. We have been looking for something like this, something different.”
So there it was, the seed I had so carefully planted with the bitless bridle; it was clearly starting to grow. And perhaps, if I have any luck with watering the soil when I see these ladies again, the seed will grow into a plant. And then, later, there will be a flower and then another. As we know, flowers turn into more seeds, more plants, more flowers, until we won’t be able to see anything else but hundreds and thousands of flowers, blossoming and blooming as far as our eye can see.
~K
I want to tell you about my friend Sam.
Sam and I go a long way. When I lived in California, we used to work together at a barn, teaching our respective students, re-training and riding horses. Already then I had tremendous respect for him, mainly because of the intuition he has with horses, but also because of his ability to think outside the box. I believe I met Sam at a time when I was about ready to start thinking outside the box myself. (I dare say I met him shortly after I had realized there was an actual box to think outside of!)
Sam is still thinking outside the box. In fact, he is living outside of it. He has done what I only dream of doing which is living the way he believes, even if it means financial disaster. He no longer teaches “mainstream” riding, but has turned his focus completely to guiding people in finding their true relationship with horses. He no longer rides horses the “traditional way”, instead he spends time with them on the ground, being and doing what he feels is right by the horse. And unlike me, he won’t work with a student unless they are willing to follow the same path he is on. Sure, he has lost 70 % of his students, he is living hand to mouth, but – he is being true to what he believes, he is being true to his passion. He is walking his talk.
Oh how I admire and envy him.
I look at myself and I feel like a fraud, a coward. How dare I preach about the ethical way to be with horses when I’m still participating in traditional activities that I know rob theses beautiful animals emotionally, psychologically and physically? Sure, I believe in bitless riding and partnership that starts on the ground, yet I teach people who ride in bits and focus on nothing else but the mounted part of their relationship with their horse. Sure, in my heart all I want to do with Little Love is to get to know her, to offer her more and more freedom, to give her choices without force, yet some days I end up riding her in the arena when I know it’s the last thing she needs, but what her owner expects.
I feel like I am stuck between the worlds, entering in and out of the traditional equestrian realm but also hanging onto this other world, this mystical and invisible world horses can offer, the world I so desperately want to be part of, but which seems to be out of reach. But is it really out of reach? Or, am I just a coward who continues a masquerade because she is afraid to stand up publicly for what she truly believes?
At the end of the day, do I even know what I believe? Or what I dream of?
On Tuesday I met up with a woman who called me last week about trying out a bitless bridle on her young horse. Someone had recommended she contact me, and she had, although she wasn’t sure how I could help. I made the appointment, but when the day arrived, I felt reluctant to meet her. I didn’t feel I had the energy to once again diplomatically explain what I thought bits did to horses, I didn’t want to meet her horse and feel his pain and know that it was up to me to persuade the owner to use softer methods. I wanted to give up, to say “the hell with it,” and hide like the coward I was sure I was.
I had obviously forgotten something important: that when you forget something important, life has a way of sending you a reminder.
When I showed up at her barn with my bridles, the lady was waiting for me with a couple of friends. To my surprise they were all extremely open to the idea of not having a bit in the horse’s mouth. I felt encouraged. Not using a bit is a big step for most people, but little do they know how, in the big scheme of things, it is really only a baby step. Bitless riding is good, but the way I see it, it’s only like a foot wedged in the door. Once that door is open, once someone is thinking outside the box for the first time, the possibilities for change are limitless.
We tacked up Rocky, a young gelding with numerous vices (or so I was told) and I climbed on, my heart feeling heavy. I used to ride strange horses all the time and not think anything of it, but this was before I realized how much I was invading their space by doing that. Every time I ride a horse without its permission, I feel like I’m taking advantage of it. But as I walked Rocky around the half frozen arena, I tried not to think of that. In my mind I apologized to him, telling him that really, ordinarily I wouldn’t have been so rude, but in the name of the cause…
I rode Rocky for 20 minutes and with the help of the bitless bridle the horse was transformed from a troublesome youngster to a happy and forward horse listening to the rider’s aids. My audience seemed keen, curious, excited. The youngest, a woman with a quiet demeanor, seemed especially hopeful. She pointed at a hairy pony standing in the snowy pasture next to the arena.
“That’s my horse, he’s an Islandic. I haven’t been able to ride him for a while because every time I try, he goes crazy and I can’t stop him. Nobody can. He’s afraid of strangers and I’m not a good enough rider to feel confident on him, so I don’t ride him. But, now that you are here with that bridle, and you look so confident, would you ride him?”
They all looked at me expectantly. This was a test, I was fully aware of that.
I looked at the ball of fur standing in the snow and went with my instinct.
The crazy Islandic turned out to be everything but crazy. He was just scared, very, very scared. I’m pretty sure the bit in his mouth had not helped the situation. I talked to the horse and as sometimes happens, I could feel his life flashing by me, as he unloaded his baggage, his history. I talked to him about the bitless bridle, explained who I was and why I was going to ride him. I also told him I wouldn’t hurt him in any way. He didn’t like my legs on his sides, so I held them away. He was very aware of my balance so I did my best to stay quietly in the middle of his back. And I sent him love, lots and lots of love. Sort of like a big hug, but in my mind. Sounds a little loopy, but it always works.
If my audience had been sold on the bridle before, now they were floored. Never had this horse been so relaxed, never had he held his head so low and stopped so willingly. Never had he NOT run off with a rider on his back. They couldn’t believe their eyes. The owner walked over to me when I got off.
“Wow,” she said. “I could hear you talking to him and it was as if he understood you. I wish I could ride him, too. But I’m so afraid.”
“Maybe one day you can,” I replied. I looked at her carefully, not sure how much she was willing to receive in terms of information outside the box. “But riding is not everything, there are so many other things you can do with your horse.”
She looked at my quizzically. “Yes, I’ve recently started doing some ground work in the arena.”
“That’s great! Do you enjoy it?”
She nodded. “But my dream is to go on the trails.” Her voice was wistful.
“Why don’t you go on foot and take your horse with you? You wouldn’t be riding, but you would be spending time with your horse – on the trails.” I petted the Islandic. “He’s a great guy.”
Tears started streaming down the owner’s face. I can’t blame her; I was about to cry, too.
“I know, he is a great guy. I don’t know why I never thought of just going on the trails in hand. I was just so stuck on the idea of riding him.” She hugged her horse and he sighed. There was something about that little horse that really touched my heart, too. He was such a damaged soul, yet he was willing to reach out to me when I reached out to him. He helped me remember why I do what I do.
I realize I have two dreams; a collective dream and a personal dream, and as much as it sometimes tears at my conscious, I must keep my personal dream on hold. There are so many ways to go about this path and I have to remember that while some go one way, I can choose to go another. Everyone must go the way that is best for them. The world needs people like Sam, who live like they believe and set an example for others. But just as much the world needs people like me, people who mingle in the “mainstream” equestrian activities and quietly plant the seeds of change. Neither life is easy, as we all are swimming upstream battling thousands of years of “know how” and questioning hundreds of years of equestrian knowledge.
So – perhaps there is hope; perhaps I’m not such a coward after all. I’m just following a different path parallel to other paths.
Tuesday afternoon, when I was driving home from my bitless bridle quest, I felt emotional, like I always do when I have witnessed people thinking outside the box for the first time. I thought of their excitement, their eagerness to know more, to think more. And I thought of how they could barely contain their excitement. “Wow,” they exclaimed in unison, “we never want to use a bit again, that was amazing. Do you teach lessons? We would love to hear more about your ideas. We have been looking for something like this, something different.”
So there it was, the seed I had so carefully planted with the bitless bridle; it was clearly starting to grow. And perhaps, if I have any luck with watering the soil when I see these ladies again, the seed will grow into a plant. And then, later, there will be a flower and then another. As we know, flowers turn into more seeds, more plants, more flowers, until we won’t be able to see anything else but hundreds and thousands of flowers, blossoming and blooming as far as our eye can see.
~K
Monday, December 28, 2009
Letting Go
"There are no facts, only interpretations." - Nietsche
A few days ago I was reminded of an episode that momentarily rocked me off my equilibrium, if there ever really was one.
It was an ordinary fall day, a bit windy, but no rain so I decided to take Little Love for a walk over the fields. I took her blanket off and threw on the rope halter and off we went, walking side by side.
You really have to know Little Love and her history to know how big of an achievement walking with her on trails is. I would not have dreamed of such a thing a year ago. Yet this is something we can now do regularly, something we share and enjoy together. I have come to love these moments, to cherish them and to feel pride over our connection, our understanding of each other. I am only human and we humans like to have proof of our accomplishments, and I felt that this was exactly that: proof of our connection, our friendship. Perhaps that was my first mistake.
That day we got past the neighboring farm and were well in the fields when suddenly a flock of white seagulls landed in the grass some hundred yards away. This is exceptional, as we don't usually see seagulls this deep inland, but apparently they fly over once every year.
There is something about the color white that truly sets Little Love off. She is especially fearful of small, white animals in the distance be it a dog far away in the grass or a plastic bag in the wind. At the sight of the some 50 white birds she stopped immediately, her head up high and nostrils flaring.
If there is something I have learned from this horse, it is that sometimes it's just best to turn around and go home. Little Love was nervous; trotting and fidgeting on the end of the lead rope, but she remained by my side for the most part. I always have to be careful not to assert too much pressure on her face, as there is nothing she hates more than being restrained. I picked up the pace as I knew that trying to hold her back when she was worried about something resulted in more problems.
By the time we reached the farm, she was teetering on the far edge of her self-control. We only had another 300 yards to the barn, we could already see the building. That was when we both saw the enormous plastic bag flapping in the wind.
Twice a year the Swiss garbage service collects household items such as furniture, clothes, toys - anything people basically want to discard. Today was the day. The farmer had decided to load his junk into a large plastic sack usually used for storing grain. He had placed this enormous cow-sized bag on the side of the road with his forklift. And we were going to have to pass it to get home.
Did I mention the bag was white?
Little Love nearly fell over. Her immediate reaction was to rear and run the other way, but half way through the action she remembered the birds which had followed us and circled the field next door. Completely panic stricken she stood shaking on the end of the lead rope. Any connection we had ever gained dissolved into the wind
Suddenly, she bolted to the only opening she could see: the gate of the pasture that was hanging open on her left. She bulldozed by me as if I was no longer there. I hung on to the rope for about a second and then simply let go. So much for our connection.
She ran to the other end of the pasture, as far as possible from the gate and the awful, white beast flapping in the wind and stopped in the corner. I thanked the gods above that she was in a fenced area. I went over to her and caught her, hoping to redeem myself, to gain control. Although I remained outwardly calm, I could feel my heart racing in my chest. I was fairly sure Little Love could feel it, too. Horses make it their business to know the emotional states of all humans around them.
To make a long story a bit shorter, it so happened that the garbage truck showed up next and took the white blob away. I would love to tell you that everything was dandy after that with Little Love, but it would be a lie. She paced and snorted and ran around me. I attempted to walk her around, hoping I could bridge a connection, hoping to gain some of control so I could get her home.
Then finally, after 20 minutes in the pasture, Little Love followed me through the gate. I honestly thought we were home free.
Then, of course, there was a loud noise, a tractor behind the barn or perhaps the cows inside. Who knows. Little Love spooked. She spooked and slipped on the asphalt, her backside gliding from underneath her. She scrambled to her feet, now in total panic. In a split second I realized that if I hung on to her, several things could happen: a) she could freak out even more, as she gets more fearful when you try to restrain her b) she might fall over again, and this time all the way down or c) I could get dragged the two hundred yards to her stall and get hurt in the process.
It was a no brainer: I let go. She was loose for the second time that day and this time there were no fences to restrain her.
Little Love trotted off in panic but after 20 yards she stopped and looked at me. Then she turned and walked calmly down the road until she was met in the yard by the guy who works in the barn. Luckily there were no cars, no other people. But I was shocked. I had not let a horse loose for probably a decade and a half. It had, in fact, been so long that I couldn't remember when it happened last. Letting a horse loose was poor horsemanship.
I had done the unthinkable: I had lost control.
As if that wasn't bad enough, I also felt like a failure because I had thought Little Love and I had a special connection, I thought she trusted me, I thought she would never want to run away from me - no matter what. I had been so comfortable, so happy in our connectedness, cocky even. What had happened? Was it all a lie? I was so angry and actually felt betrayed. Betrayed by a horse. I was convinced it would never be the same.
And it wasn't. Interestingly enough our connection seemed stronger than ever. I had failed, and there she was, bonding with me like never before. What had happened? Didn't she know I was a failure?
And then I got it: I had only failed the human standard, which is that no matter what, you must remain in control of your horse at all times. I had only failed the image I had in my own head of a perfectly behaving horse who listened to me (and my standards) every second of her existence.
But from Little Love's point of view I hadn't failed. She had been scared and I had not tried to control her, to hold her down, to force her to face her fear. Instead, I had let her do the one thing she wanted to do which was get away from the scary object. I might have been the first human to ever allow her to do that. This was huge. It was almost as if I had passed a test. And the result had been there, right before my eyes, when she had trotted off but then, realizing she was free, had no longer been scared.
I'm fully aware that if Little Love and I get into a scary situation like that again, most likely she will choose to flee. I try not to take it personally. Instead, I hope I can give her the freedom she needs to not be scared. So often it is not the scary object that is creating the panic, but the fact that there is a human at the end of the rope trying to control the outcome of the situation. For most of us, there is nothing as scary as the loss of control, be it with horses or with our lives. Let's face it, most of us are control-freaks. But sometimes we can learn only when we let go of that control. And interestingly I have discovered that sometimes less is truly more, like in the case of Little Love. She is teaching me so many things, but one of the most important lessons has been to learn to let go at the right moment.
~ K
When I let go of what I am, I become what I might be.
-- Lao Tzu
A few days ago I was reminded of an episode that momentarily rocked me off my equilibrium, if there ever really was one.
It was an ordinary fall day, a bit windy, but no rain so I decided to take Little Love for a walk over the fields. I took her blanket off and threw on the rope halter and off we went, walking side by side.
You really have to know Little Love and her history to know how big of an achievement walking with her on trails is. I would not have dreamed of such a thing a year ago. Yet this is something we can now do regularly, something we share and enjoy together. I have come to love these moments, to cherish them and to feel pride over our connection, our understanding of each other. I am only human and we humans like to have proof of our accomplishments, and I felt that this was exactly that: proof of our connection, our friendship. Perhaps that was my first mistake.
That day we got past the neighboring farm and were well in the fields when suddenly a flock of white seagulls landed in the grass some hundred yards away. This is exceptional, as we don't usually see seagulls this deep inland, but apparently they fly over once every year.
There is something about the color white that truly sets Little Love off. She is especially fearful of small, white animals in the distance be it a dog far away in the grass or a plastic bag in the wind. At the sight of the some 50 white birds she stopped immediately, her head up high and nostrils flaring.
If there is something I have learned from this horse, it is that sometimes it's just best to turn around and go home. Little Love was nervous; trotting and fidgeting on the end of the lead rope, but she remained by my side for the most part. I always have to be careful not to assert too much pressure on her face, as there is nothing she hates more than being restrained. I picked up the pace as I knew that trying to hold her back when she was worried about something resulted in more problems.
By the time we reached the farm, she was teetering on the far edge of her self-control. We only had another 300 yards to the barn, we could already see the building. That was when we both saw the enormous plastic bag flapping in the wind.
Twice a year the Swiss garbage service collects household items such as furniture, clothes, toys - anything people basically want to discard. Today was the day. The farmer had decided to load his junk into a large plastic sack usually used for storing grain. He had placed this enormous cow-sized bag on the side of the road with his forklift. And we were going to have to pass it to get home.
Did I mention the bag was white?
Little Love nearly fell over. Her immediate reaction was to rear and run the other way, but half way through the action she remembered the birds which had followed us and circled the field next door. Completely panic stricken she stood shaking on the end of the lead rope. Any connection we had ever gained dissolved into the wind
Suddenly, she bolted to the only opening she could see: the gate of the pasture that was hanging open on her left. She bulldozed by me as if I was no longer there. I hung on to the rope for about a second and then simply let go. So much for our connection.
She ran to the other end of the pasture, as far as possible from the gate and the awful, white beast flapping in the wind and stopped in the corner. I thanked the gods above that she was in a fenced area. I went over to her and caught her, hoping to redeem myself, to gain control. Although I remained outwardly calm, I could feel my heart racing in my chest. I was fairly sure Little Love could feel it, too. Horses make it their business to know the emotional states of all humans around them.
To make a long story a bit shorter, it so happened that the garbage truck showed up next and took the white blob away. I would love to tell you that everything was dandy after that with Little Love, but it would be a lie. She paced and snorted and ran around me. I attempted to walk her around, hoping I could bridge a connection, hoping to gain some of control so I could get her home.
Then finally, after 20 minutes in the pasture, Little Love followed me through the gate. I honestly thought we were home free.
Then, of course, there was a loud noise, a tractor behind the barn or perhaps the cows inside. Who knows. Little Love spooked. She spooked and slipped on the asphalt, her backside gliding from underneath her. She scrambled to her feet, now in total panic. In a split second I realized that if I hung on to her, several things could happen: a) she could freak out even more, as she gets more fearful when you try to restrain her b) she might fall over again, and this time all the way down or c) I could get dragged the two hundred yards to her stall and get hurt in the process.
It was a no brainer: I let go. She was loose for the second time that day and this time there were no fences to restrain her.
Little Love trotted off in panic but after 20 yards she stopped and looked at me. Then she turned and walked calmly down the road until she was met in the yard by the guy who works in the barn. Luckily there were no cars, no other people. But I was shocked. I had not let a horse loose for probably a decade and a half. It had, in fact, been so long that I couldn't remember when it happened last. Letting a horse loose was poor horsemanship.
I had done the unthinkable: I had lost control.
As if that wasn't bad enough, I also felt like a failure because I had thought Little Love and I had a special connection, I thought she trusted me, I thought she would never want to run away from me - no matter what. I had been so comfortable, so happy in our connectedness, cocky even. What had happened? Was it all a lie? I was so angry and actually felt betrayed. Betrayed by a horse. I was convinced it would never be the same.
And it wasn't. Interestingly enough our connection seemed stronger than ever. I had failed, and there she was, bonding with me like never before. What had happened? Didn't she know I was a failure?
And then I got it: I had only failed the human standard, which is that no matter what, you must remain in control of your horse at all times. I had only failed the image I had in my own head of a perfectly behaving horse who listened to me (and my standards) every second of her existence.
But from Little Love's point of view I hadn't failed. She had been scared and I had not tried to control her, to hold her down, to force her to face her fear. Instead, I had let her do the one thing she wanted to do which was get away from the scary object. I might have been the first human to ever allow her to do that. This was huge. It was almost as if I had passed a test. And the result had been there, right before my eyes, when she had trotted off but then, realizing she was free, had no longer been scared.
I'm fully aware that if Little Love and I get into a scary situation like that again, most likely she will choose to flee. I try not to take it personally. Instead, I hope I can give her the freedom she needs to not be scared. So often it is not the scary object that is creating the panic, but the fact that there is a human at the end of the rope trying to control the outcome of the situation. For most of us, there is nothing as scary as the loss of control, be it with horses or with our lives. Let's face it, most of us are control-freaks. But sometimes we can learn only when we let go of that control. And interestingly I have discovered that sometimes less is truly more, like in the case of Little Love. She is teaching me so many things, but one of the most important lessons has been to learn to let go at the right moment.
~ K
When I let go of what I am, I become what I might be.
-- Lao Tzu
Friday, December 11, 2009
Kapia
A few weeks ago I received a message that Kapia had passed away. Although she touched my life only briefly, Kapia had a profound effect on my growth as a person and I will be forever in debt to her for this reason. Not that she ever expected anything in return, apart from honesty and authenticity.
Horse’s have big hearts as I pointed out in my last blog, but Kapia’s heart was extraordinary – she was a healer of the human heart.
To honor Kapia’s memory, below are two poems I wrote in May of this year, both inspired by this magnificent mare.
The beacon - Inspired by Kapia May 3, 2009
I know
what you are saying.
I can see the words
In those kind eyes
When you look straight
Into my heart
You know my desires
Before I can catch them
You guide my path
Before I can find it
You are the beacon
In the night
Words from a wise horse - Talking to Kapia May 2, 2009
the eternal depth
that is within -
it may seem empty
and deep as a hole
but
the space you see
is not darkness
it is a place to
expand
your Strength
your Power
your Womanhood
Thank you, Kapia. I will never forget.
~ K
Monday, November 16, 2009
A horse's heart
The greatest explorer on this earth never takes voyages as long as those of the man who descends to the depth of his heart. - Julian Green
The Institute of HeartMath is a research and education organization dedicated to heart-based living – people relying on the intelligence of their hearts along with their minds to conduct their lives. HeartMath has been researching heart intelligence, stress and emotional management for more than 18 years and according to them, the human heart creates an electromagnetic field so strong it is measurable from several feet away.
Research has found that one person's heart energy waves (electrocardiogram output) are detectable by electrodes wired on the surface of the other person's body when they are seated three feet apart. However, when they are holding hands, each person's heart energy waves are detectable not only on the surface of the other's body, but even in the other's brain waves. Thus, we now know that the heart energy field is both conducted by physical contact and radiated across space between people.
But what about horses?
Think about this: An average horse heart is about thirteen times larger by weight than the average man’s heart and over 20 times larger than the average woman’s heart. Research at the Institute of HeartMath has shown that the human heart's energy field is "approximately five thousand times greater in strength than the field produced by the brain."
How great, in this case, is the energy field of a horse’s heart?
I am convinced that it is absolutely enormous. And imagine if we let ourselves feel it, if we let ourselves be “touched” by this powerful energy field. How much can we be moved emotionally by being in the presence of something that radiates genuine love, acceptance, support?
Yesterday, when I went to the barn, nobody else was there. I immediately got Little Love out of her box and took her into the indoor arena. In the winter she rarely gets to go outside due to the strict rules concerning paddock use and she loves to roll more than anything. I let her loose, as usual, and after a few rounds walking around and checking that everything was safe, she went down for a roll. Then, when she stood up again and shook, we began our dance.
If you have read my previous posts (for example May 16th of this year), you may remember that Little Love is a very private horse, one that doesn’t like to be touched, one that doesn’t care for physical closeness. She has encountered some abuse in the past and her trust of humans is still limited. So usually, when we play, she lets me run next to her, but at a distance of a minimum of six feet. I accept this and never push for more. In fact, I have in the past six months demanded less and less from her and instead allowed her to demand something from me for a change. This has resulted in us riding the trails instead of working in the arena, or “free running” instead of long lining.
As a result of my approach, Little Love has changed under saddle, giving me her back willingly as we trot on the trails, demonstrating gates that would wow a Grand Prix audience. And not only that, something has changed between us in the arena, in liberty. She has invited me closer.
And so yesterday, in freedom, we trotted and cantered together slowly, shoulder to shoulder in circular patterns. She is a massive horse and I could feel her energy roll over me like a tidal wave. Every now and then I put out my hand and touched her, and she would respond by arching her neck and collecting, her eye cocked slightly inward, creating a bend in her neck. She was absolutely beautiful, stunning and she was there with me, wholeheartedly, with body and soul. I knew exactly what she was thinking, where she was going to turn, how she wanted me to move. I felt her joy, her trust, her strength, her power. I felt her heart like it was inside me.
Scientifically there is much more to this heart to heart business that I am revealing here, but if there is one thing I know for sure, it is this: when I am with Little Love there are no words to describe the feeling inside. It is with her that I find my own peace, my equilibrium and the clarity I need to continue living my life to its fullest. It is with her that I can be who I truly am, congruently, with no hold backs or assumptions or expectations. It is with her that I can be a simple human being living in a simple moment, with no past, no future, just the present, the glorious present.
Little Love has a big heart, in fact, it is so big it can fit a whole person inside and then some. But, I have discovered, her heart is like any a true heart of a horse: it is only there if you accept it with childlike innocence, with no strings attached, no pushy human agendas, just with an open heart of your own. It sounds so simple, but yet is one of the hardest things to do. I urge you all to stop what you are doing, to stop and stand absolutely still to listen; I urge you all to stop doing and start being… and if you are as lucky as I was, perhaps you will get to feel something absolutely priceless: a horse’s heart.
Take care of your heart,
~K
www.heartmath.org
The Institute of HeartMath is a research and education organization dedicated to heart-based living – people relying on the intelligence of their hearts along with their minds to conduct their lives. HeartMath has been researching heart intelligence, stress and emotional management for more than 18 years and according to them, the human heart creates an electromagnetic field so strong it is measurable from several feet away.
Research has found that one person's heart energy waves (electrocardiogram output) are detectable by electrodes wired on the surface of the other person's body when they are seated three feet apart. However, when they are holding hands, each person's heart energy waves are detectable not only on the surface of the other's body, but even in the other's brain waves. Thus, we now know that the heart energy field is both conducted by physical contact and radiated across space between people.
But what about horses?
Think about this: An average horse heart is about thirteen times larger by weight than the average man’s heart and over 20 times larger than the average woman’s heart. Research at the Institute of HeartMath has shown that the human heart's energy field is "approximately five thousand times greater in strength than the field produced by the brain."
How great, in this case, is the energy field of a horse’s heart?
I am convinced that it is absolutely enormous. And imagine if we let ourselves feel it, if we let ourselves be “touched” by this powerful energy field. How much can we be moved emotionally by being in the presence of something that radiates genuine love, acceptance, support?
Yesterday, when I went to the barn, nobody else was there. I immediately got Little Love out of her box and took her into the indoor arena. In the winter she rarely gets to go outside due to the strict rules concerning paddock use and she loves to roll more than anything. I let her loose, as usual, and after a few rounds walking around and checking that everything was safe, she went down for a roll. Then, when she stood up again and shook, we began our dance.
If you have read my previous posts (for example May 16th of this year), you may remember that Little Love is a very private horse, one that doesn’t like to be touched, one that doesn’t care for physical closeness. She has encountered some abuse in the past and her trust of humans is still limited. So usually, when we play, she lets me run next to her, but at a distance of a minimum of six feet. I accept this and never push for more. In fact, I have in the past six months demanded less and less from her and instead allowed her to demand something from me for a change. This has resulted in us riding the trails instead of working in the arena, or “free running” instead of long lining.
As a result of my approach, Little Love has changed under saddle, giving me her back willingly as we trot on the trails, demonstrating gates that would wow a Grand Prix audience. And not only that, something has changed between us in the arena, in liberty. She has invited me closer.
And so yesterday, in freedom, we trotted and cantered together slowly, shoulder to shoulder in circular patterns. She is a massive horse and I could feel her energy roll over me like a tidal wave. Every now and then I put out my hand and touched her, and she would respond by arching her neck and collecting, her eye cocked slightly inward, creating a bend in her neck. She was absolutely beautiful, stunning and she was there with me, wholeheartedly, with body and soul. I knew exactly what she was thinking, where she was going to turn, how she wanted me to move. I felt her joy, her trust, her strength, her power. I felt her heart like it was inside me.
Scientifically there is much more to this heart to heart business that I am revealing here, but if there is one thing I know for sure, it is this: when I am with Little Love there are no words to describe the feeling inside. It is with her that I find my own peace, my equilibrium and the clarity I need to continue living my life to its fullest. It is with her that I can be who I truly am, congruently, with no hold backs or assumptions or expectations. It is with her that I can be a simple human being living in a simple moment, with no past, no future, just the present, the glorious present.
Little Love has a big heart, in fact, it is so big it can fit a whole person inside and then some. But, I have discovered, her heart is like any a true heart of a horse: it is only there if you accept it with childlike innocence, with no strings attached, no pushy human agendas, just with an open heart of your own. It sounds so simple, but yet is one of the hardest things to do. I urge you all to stop what you are doing, to stop and stand absolutely still to listen; I urge you all to stop doing and start being… and if you are as lucky as I was, perhaps you will get to feel something absolutely priceless: a horse’s heart.
Take care of your heart,
~K
www.heartmath.org
Friday, October 30, 2009
Funny?
This week I did something I have never done before: I spoke up to complete strangers in defense of a horse.
It all started when I received one of those mass emails that circulate the internet. The subject line read FUNNY!!! and there was a link to a video on YouTube followed with a prompt to watch the film in slow motion to really get a good laugh.
The video was of a man, a total beginner, riding a very well trained jumping horse in an actual jumping competition. The result of this combination was absolutely appalling. The jumps were relatively high, but the horse cleared them with grace despite the full grown man hanging on his mouth and pounding on his back the whole way. Only once did the horse deny a jump and when he did, he was punished with the whip, after which he continued to jump is heart out until the end.
After watching the video I was stunned: this was supposed to be funny? Where was the joke? All I could see was a suffering horse, forced and humiliated by a human being.
I thought about it for a day, but no matter which way I looked at it, I realized it was time to SAY something, DO something. I know, pretty idealistic of me, but once I had made up my mind, I couldn’t stop myself. I wrote an email and replied to all. Here is my letter.
Hi everyone,
I realize most of you don’t even know me, but I was one of the people on X’s email list which means I, too, got this “funny” video. I usually don’t do this, but I have recently decided to stop living in silence and speak up, mainly because I want to speak for those who don’t have human words for us to hear.
Did you laugh when you watched the video? Or, did you, too, find the video highly disturbing and sad. I thought it a good example of how people behave with horses – with not a lot of consideration for the animal. You may look at the man on the video and think that you are different than him, perhaps you know how to ride really well or you (think you) never hit your horse with a whip like he did, but in my experience there are not a lot of humans out there who don’t take advantage of these beautiful animals in one way or the other. I certainly have and I could bet money that you have, too. It may not be much more than putting a bit in their mouth or kicking them with spurs when they don’t go, but the act is there, nevertheless. It all stems from the same school of thought where horses must tolerate us and obey us, no matter what.
Who ever gave us the permission to ride these animals? Who ever gave us the authority to use them as sports equipment? Yep, nobody. We took the right, because we figured that since we are the self-appointed leaders of the world, we can do whatever we please. For example go and jump horses over fences when we clearly are incapable of riding over them ourselves. Pretty selfish of us, don’t you think? And not that funny.
Anyways, I hope this letter (and video) makes you think, if nothing else, of what horses have to endure from us humans on a daily basis. Let’s all try to be a little more aware of what is happening to the horses in the world and perhaps one day these animals will get the respect and kindness they deserve.
I wasn’t sure what would happen when I pressed “send”, but I did it anyway. I hoped that at least one person would stop to think, at least someone would make a connection and see the world differently.
I didn’t get as many responses as I had expected, but the ones I did get, varied from utterly hostile to somber agreement. One email, however, in particular shocked me, because it made me realize what an uphill battle being on the horse’s side is and continues to be.
Here is an excerpt from the email:
“I love my horse… he is my friend, and my partner, because without him, I am not a horse person. Yes, I will hit him if he needs it, I don't need him to bite me because he doesn't realize that I am NOT a horse, and that biting me is unacceptable. While I have respect and love for him, I do believe that I, as his person, outrank him in the hierarchy of life… As I am sure you are aware, horses don't actually want to be in charge, they are happy to give that control to us. Anyway, yes, I did feel badly for that horse [on the video], but yes, I also laughed.“
I will hit him if he needs it. Wow. I had never realized that there actually was someone who believed that horses needed hitting and by using violence, they were actually doing them a favor. I always thought people hit horses because they couldn’t control their own anger. This was certainly the case for me long time ago. I knew hitting was wrong, but short of having any other means to communicate at the time, I reverted to violence and then felt horrible afterwards. But to actually believe it is alright to use violence?
…because he doesn’t realize that I am NOT a horse… It is always surprising to see how many people, who have obviously spent a lot of time with horses, think horses are not very intelligent. No, they don’t speak English, or any other human language, but this doesn’t mean they don’t communicate; they don’t have emotions, thoughts, ideas, awareness. Biting is one way for them to say something, but so many people don’t take it as a message, but as a punishable act. This is, of course, closely linked to the fact that most people believe they should control the horse because they are above horses “in the hierarchy of life” mentioned in this email as well. In fact, most humans seem to think we are the king of pretty much everything: animals, nature, the world and in some case even each other. Looking at the current environmental and political predicament we are in, we can see where this thinking has taken us…
Perhaps I have had too much faith in the human race, perhaps this path I have taken is much less traveled than I originally thought. I know we can’t all think the same; it’s just an impossible fantasy. But could I dream of kindness? Could I dream that some day it would be considered abuse instead of training to hit a horse, that some day a man like the one on the video would be disqualified from the competition on terms of abuse, that videos like this would no longer circulate the web as funny?
Could I dream of kindness?
~ K
If you want to see the video for yourself, go to http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=opMiCyoRzYM
It all started when I received one of those mass emails that circulate the internet. The subject line read FUNNY!!! and there was a link to a video on YouTube followed with a prompt to watch the film in slow motion to really get a good laugh.
The video was of a man, a total beginner, riding a very well trained jumping horse in an actual jumping competition. The result of this combination was absolutely appalling. The jumps were relatively high, but the horse cleared them with grace despite the full grown man hanging on his mouth and pounding on his back the whole way. Only once did the horse deny a jump and when he did, he was punished with the whip, after which he continued to jump is heart out until the end.
After watching the video I was stunned: this was supposed to be funny? Where was the joke? All I could see was a suffering horse, forced and humiliated by a human being.
I thought about it for a day, but no matter which way I looked at it, I realized it was time to SAY something, DO something. I know, pretty idealistic of me, but once I had made up my mind, I couldn’t stop myself. I wrote an email and replied to all. Here is my letter.
Hi everyone,
I realize most of you don’t even know me, but I was one of the people on X’s email list which means I, too, got this “funny” video. I usually don’t do this, but I have recently decided to stop living in silence and speak up, mainly because I want to speak for those who don’t have human words for us to hear.
Did you laugh when you watched the video? Or, did you, too, find the video highly disturbing and sad. I thought it a good example of how people behave with horses – with not a lot of consideration for the animal. You may look at the man on the video and think that you are different than him, perhaps you know how to ride really well or you (think you) never hit your horse with a whip like he did, but in my experience there are not a lot of humans out there who don’t take advantage of these beautiful animals in one way or the other. I certainly have and I could bet money that you have, too. It may not be much more than putting a bit in their mouth or kicking them with spurs when they don’t go, but the act is there, nevertheless. It all stems from the same school of thought where horses must tolerate us and obey us, no matter what.
Who ever gave us the permission to ride these animals? Who ever gave us the authority to use them as sports equipment? Yep, nobody. We took the right, because we figured that since we are the self-appointed leaders of the world, we can do whatever we please. For example go and jump horses over fences when we clearly are incapable of riding over them ourselves. Pretty selfish of us, don’t you think? And not that funny.
Anyways, I hope this letter (and video) makes you think, if nothing else, of what horses have to endure from us humans on a daily basis. Let’s all try to be a little more aware of what is happening to the horses in the world and perhaps one day these animals will get the respect and kindness they deserve.
I wasn’t sure what would happen when I pressed “send”, but I did it anyway. I hoped that at least one person would stop to think, at least someone would make a connection and see the world differently.
I didn’t get as many responses as I had expected, but the ones I did get, varied from utterly hostile to somber agreement. One email, however, in particular shocked me, because it made me realize what an uphill battle being on the horse’s side is and continues to be.
Here is an excerpt from the email:
“I love my horse… he is my friend, and my partner, because without him, I am not a horse person. Yes, I will hit him if he needs it, I don't need him to bite me because he doesn't realize that I am NOT a horse, and that biting me is unacceptable. While I have respect and love for him, I do believe that I, as his person, outrank him in the hierarchy of life… As I am sure you are aware, horses don't actually want to be in charge, they are happy to give that control to us. Anyway, yes, I did feel badly for that horse [on the video], but yes, I also laughed.“
I will hit him if he needs it. Wow. I had never realized that there actually was someone who believed that horses needed hitting and by using violence, they were actually doing them a favor. I always thought people hit horses because they couldn’t control their own anger. This was certainly the case for me long time ago. I knew hitting was wrong, but short of having any other means to communicate at the time, I reverted to violence and then felt horrible afterwards. But to actually believe it is alright to use violence?
…because he doesn’t realize that I am NOT a horse… It is always surprising to see how many people, who have obviously spent a lot of time with horses, think horses are not very intelligent. No, they don’t speak English, or any other human language, but this doesn’t mean they don’t communicate; they don’t have emotions, thoughts, ideas, awareness. Biting is one way for them to say something, but so many people don’t take it as a message, but as a punishable act. This is, of course, closely linked to the fact that most people believe they should control the horse because they are above horses “in the hierarchy of life” mentioned in this email as well. In fact, most humans seem to think we are the king of pretty much everything: animals, nature, the world and in some case even each other. Looking at the current environmental and political predicament we are in, we can see where this thinking has taken us…
Perhaps I have had too much faith in the human race, perhaps this path I have taken is much less traveled than I originally thought. I know we can’t all think the same; it’s just an impossible fantasy. But could I dream of kindness? Could I dream that some day it would be considered abuse instead of training to hit a horse, that some day a man like the one on the video would be disqualified from the competition on terms of abuse, that videos like this would no longer circulate the web as funny?
Could I dream of kindness?
~ K
If you want to see the video for yourself, go to http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=opMiCyoRzYM
Thursday, October 15, 2009
Bone spurs
The horse dentist came to check Little Love’s teeth a few weeks ago. I wasn’t there, but I heard from her owner that Little Love’s mouth was doing well and there was no longer noticeable irritation on the gums. There were, however, visible bone spurs on the “bone bars” where the bit had sat for some ten years before she transferred to the bitless bridle.
This information leaves me stunned. It’s not that I haven’t known about the possibility of bone spurs before, I have read Dr. Cook’s Metal in the Mouth and seen the pictures of horse skulls – along with the bone spurs. And it makes sense, doesn’t it? When a metal piece rubs back and forth on the gum and bone for years some abnormalities are bound to happen.
I watch the women and men at the barn ride their horses in the arena and cannot but notice the bared gums, the open mouths, the tongues hanging on the side, the tense muscles on the faces of the horses. Do these horses too have bone spurs? Did any of the horse I rode during the past three decades have bone spurs? All of them?
Dr. Cook writes in Metal in the Mouth that “[the] survey of 74 jaw bones in 4 museum collections, from horses 5 years old or older, has shown that bone spurs on the bars (generally both bars) were present on 55 of the specimens, or 74% (Cook 1999e). As some of the 74 horses were feral and had been bit-free all their lives (the feral horses had no bone spurs), the real incidence of the problem in the bitted horses was actually greater than 74%.”
Suddenly I remember my beloved friend Socks and how he used to bare his front teeth when we were doing dressage and how I bought a two piece noseband to keep his mouth closed. I think of Hunter who used to curl himself under to lose contact with the rider and then take off when you regained the contact. I think of Sebastian and how he played with the bit, jingling it back and forth and De La Chance who hung his tongue out and tossed his head. These are all signs of discomfort.
Why is it that we are so innovative when it comes to other areas of our lives, but when it comes to horses, we hang on to thousand year old traditions tooth and nail?
I recently was reading a horse book my son had brought home from the library and on the page where they were talking about equipment, there was a picture of a snaffle bit from 490 BC. Apart from the darkened color of the metal, it looked exactly like every other snaffle bit I see in the tack room of the barn next door. For at least 2500 years the snaffle bit has stayed the same? Yet during just the last century we have managed to create trains, cars and airplanes, invent the television, radio and internet, cure lethal diseases and visit the moon among other things?
And even now, in the age of change and critical thinking, when I tell people about the harmful effects of the bit, they nod and say: “But if it truly is so bad, why does everyone then use it?” Why? Because it works so well – for us humans.
Little Love’s owner has slowly started to use the bit again, because, I believe, she is encouraged by how accepting of it her pain-free horse now is. I can see that it is tempting, as riding the mare’s big and powerful movements is a lot easier when you can rely on the “control” of the bit, instead of your body. “I’m only doing it once or twice a week,” she defends her actions as if this makes a difference. And I suppose it does. Causing pain to an animal only once a week is definitely better than causing it every day. But if I told you I beat my dog only on Tuesdays, would you think it was alright?
I can understand people’s resistance to my bitless ideas. I agree, it is scary, because once you give it a little more than a minute of your thought it hijacks your entire brain. Not many people want to look in the mirror and admit they have been causing pain to their horse. I should know; I used the bit for over thirty years. Heck, I have even used the double bridle, draw reins, side reins, standing martingales, crank nose straps and what not. What does that make me? Ignorant? Stupid? Cruel?
Perhaps I was all that and now I am like a recovering alcoholic, admitting to my past mistakes, apologizing to the appropriate parties and trying to redeem myself through all the guilt that weighs me down on a daily basis. I know I can’t change what I have done in the past, but I can try to change the future even if it means I have to do it one rider and one horse at a time.
Growth is the only evidence of life. ~John Henry Newman, Apologia pro vita sua, 1864
~K
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