You can teach a student a lesson for a day; but if you can teach him to learn by creating curiosity, he will continue the learning process as long as he lives. ~Clay P. Bedford
A friend of mine recently bought me a book on clicker training. I was a fan of clicker training before, but after reading this book, Reaching the Animal Mind by Karen Pryor, I was sold. And not just sold, but convinced to the point of being a religious follower.
So what’s the big deal?
In two words: positive reinforcement. I didn’t truly understand what a difference clicker training makes on the animal mind until I got a new Jack Russell puppy and tried it with her. It works like a dream! Chai, the puppy, is only three months old, but she has learned a host of things with enthusiasm. Despite her instant dislike of water, she loves to go into the shower; despite her very energetic puppy self, she sits still for nail clipping. Not to mention all the other stuff she can do.
Chai, in all her youth and enthusiasm is endearing, but she is also a clean slate: a dog with no baggage. Watching her try new things, offer new behaviors with creativity and absolute abandonment is mind-boggling. Why? Because I have never seen such ingenuity in an animal.
We have another dog, too, she is three years old. Chili has never been trained with intimidation or punishment; we have given her treats as rewards and guided her behavior gently. She also doesn’t like the shower, but endures it because, well, because she has been told to endure it. She also lets us clip her nails, but when she does, every cell in her body demonstrates how much she hates it.
Chili can do everything Chai does, but the difference is in her attitude. Where Chai says “YES! Can’t wait to do that!”, Chili merely gives you a half-hearted “Okay. I’ll do it because you said so.”
It’s not the positive reinforcement part that surprised me, it is the realization that although I have tried to be positive with our first dog, her learning has obviously not been as much fun as it could have been. Somewhere along the line I have probably also scared her and even forced her against her will. And undoubtedly I have not been clear enough in my feedback. This has had an effect on her personality, her thinking and her behavior.
So what does this mean when we talk about horses?
Traditional horse training is primarily based on the use of pressure. We apply lots of pressure to the horse and when the horse responds with the desired behavior, we take the pressure away. This method is often combined with correction of bad behavior. This means that bad things happen when a horse does the wrong thing/makes a mistake. This ideology is the polar opposite of clicker training where good things happen when you do the correct thing (and nothing happens when you make a mistake). Of course, the problem is also the inaccurancy of such a method. Half the time the horse has no idea why it is getting punished.
Imagine yourself trying to learn a foreign language with the negative method. First lesson your teacher introduces a noose that you will be wearing tightly around your neck. You can breathe, but it’s very uncomfortable. “Don’t worry,” your teacher says, “I’ll loosen it for a moment every time you learn a new word.” He will then proceed to graciously loosen the noose when you get it right. Of course, he has failed to inform you that every time you give the wrong answer, he will hit you over the head with a stick. And not only that, you soon realize that you have no clue of what your teacher wants; his communication skills are non-existent.
How well do you think you would learn under such circumstances? How willingly would you try? And how would all this affect your attitude towards this foreign language?
Unfortunately, in the animal world this sort of negative training actually works; it gets you a very obedient animal. In fact, often the animal is so obedient that you could call it passive. And that is exactly what most people want. They don’t want a horse that expresses its opinion or tries new things. And god forbid it from thinking on its own. Humans value a bombproof horse.
This sort of training is the reason many people don’t think horses are particularly intelligent; when punishment is the main tool in training, it slows down the learning process. It seems like the animal is “not getting it” when in fact it is merely afraid to try. This “stupidity” for some reason makes it even easier for people to abuse their horses.
I recently engaged in a conversation with my neighbor who also has two dogs. She informed me that she had figured out a way to train her older dog, who before had no obedience or respect towards her and would simply run off if she let him off the leash. Her new secret weapon was a “bark collar” that would squirt citric acid at the dog every time the dog barked. Except that this collar had been taken a step further and actually operated on a remote control. My neighbor couldn’t contain her excitement. She said that for the first time in her life, her dog wouldn’t disobey, because if he did, she was able to punish him with the citric acid. If he strayed too far, she simply had to use the remote control collar and voilà, he would return. She said he had taken to sticking very close to her and now she was working on teaching him and her younger dog heeling using the same method.
I was appalled. I tried to explain to the lady what training with the use of only negative reinforcement would do to the animal’s psyche, but she looked at me with a blank look on her face.
“No, no, you don’t understand, it works great,” she said.
I’m sure it does. I’m sure that if she continues this method, in a few months she will have dogs that never bark, never leave her side, never play, never run and never cause any disturbance. She will have passive companions that look like dogs, but don’t act like ones. But it seems like that is exactly what she is looking for. And this is what many people are looking for in a horse, as well. A calm horse that will do as it’s told, no matter what the circumstances.
Sometimes when I walk down the aisles of any given sport horse barn, I am filled with the sense of sadness and loss. I wonder how many of the horses I am seeing standing behind bars in their small boxes are truly expressing themselves as who they are. How many of them are balanced and happy, I mean REALLY balanced and happy by horse standards? To what degree am I looking at live robots that have been oppressed into acting and moving a certain way; horses that have long forgotten how to be horses; human creations: physically functional, but emotionally absent?
Unfortunately I am seldom exposed to truly happy horses. I know there are horses like that out there, even horses that have been trained using only positive reinforcement. Horses with no baggage. Creative and enthusiastic horses. Sometimes such a thing is hard for me to imagine. But, I try my best to hold on to that dream tooth and nail.
Still dreaming,
~ K
Sunday, May 23, 2010
Monday, May 10, 2010
Lesson from Little Love # 137: Letting go (again)
Two weeks ago when I was riding dressage in the arena, I kicked Little Love fairly hard. I kicked her because she didn’t want to move and I got angry and frustrated because I wanted to ride. She pinned her ears back and started trotting with more power. This didn’t last very long. I had to kick her again. And then again. By then I felt so bad that I was nearly in tears. I asked for the canter, she obliged but only grudgingly, barely moving forward. “Are you going to kick me again?” she seemed to be saying.
I claim to be pro horse – no force, but there I was, kicking my horse. What a hypocrite. I stopped, came off her back and felt like an utter failure. And not for the first time, mind you.
Two years ago Little Love hated everything that involved working with a human. She still doesn’t love humans, but she tolerates me. I could even say that there are moments that she enjoys my company. These are mere moments, but I take them with gratitude for it is those moments that encourage me to search further, to understand her better.
But, of course, the myopic human that I am, I sometimes manage to abuse those moments, without really realizing what I am doing.
I have mostly been able to let go of the image of myself as a dressage rider, and it wasn’t as hard as I thought it would be. I used to work in the arena several times a week, but now it’s more of a miracle to see me riding in the arena. But it does happen, about once or twice every two weeks. But I’m starting to realize that it may be once or twice every two weeks too often. Not because of me, but because of Little Love.
She absolutely loathes ridden work in the arena. Loathes. There are of course exceptions to this rule, and I think she actually endures the ridden work better with her owner than with me. With me she feels comfortable enough to express her opinion loud and clear. Or perhaps she knows I am trying to listen to her more attentively than I was before. I have to admit that my listening skills have definitely improved. I do believe, however, that my comprehension skills still need a lot of work.
Despite my decision to let go of the dressage riding there are days when I get obsessed with the idea of riding in the arena. I feel like I have to. Don’t ask me why. Perhaps I’m afraid I’ll forget how to do it. Or I feel like I need to do it for the horse (or her owner). Or I’m just plain selfish and want to do it for myself. Because I used to love riding dressage and somewhere deep down inside I still do – just a little. Because isn’t that what you are supposed to do with your horse? Obviously I am still working on letting go completely.
This really wouldn’t be an issue if Little Love shared my interest. Some horses apparently do. But she doesn’t. Sometimes she lets you know this already when you are tacking up; she pins her ears back at the sight of the saddle. If I am smart enough, I choose to go on the trails or not ride at all.
But then there are the days when we actually get into the arena without a single hiccup beforehand. Little Love accepts the saddle, she seems energetic. Hopeful, I start riding in the arena, but discover ten minutes into it that Little Love is done. It’s not that she stops, she is moving reluctantly, but when she trots it is as if her feet were made out of lead. Which is undoubtedly what she feels like, too.
Under ordinary circumstances, a horse like this would get whipped. And she has faced similar consequences before. I used to do that; make sure my horse was listening to my aids by giving a small squeeze with my leg and if the horse didn’t react, I would use the whip. A few well-timed smacks and the horse was up and going. I was proud that my horses were moving from the slightest leg aid.
But, I have changed. I now believe that to achieve true connection we must abandon the use of force. We have no right to force another living being into doing something they don’t want to do simply to please our own desires to “have fun”. That all said… What am I doing kicking my friend? Perhaps I shouldn’t even be in the arena trying to ride?
Little Love teaches me the art of letting go. I’m not always a very good student, but she is patient and kind and above all, she is forgiving. I don’t deserve her as my teacher. I try my best, but unfortunately I have to admit that I am only human. And us humans, we like to be in control, we like to have goals, we like to be doing instead of being – all things my horse teacher does not understand or even appreciate. We are also very, very slow to learn what life is really about.
Every time I make a little progress, Little Love takes me to another level. I have no idea where this will end, but I’m starting to get a faint idea. She may not be done with me until I have truly let go of everything I ever believed in. But one thing I know for sure; the more I let go, the more I gain in trust, friendship and respect. And not just that, I learn to be surprised by the generosity of a horse. Because, despite my mistakes, my butt headedness, my inability to let go fast enough, and the preconceived notions of equestrianism that still haunt me time to time, she manages to somehow meet me half way.
Yesterday, after a particularly good session or in-hand work, Little Love and I were walking in the indoor when I suddenly hear her think out loud: “Ride me bareback!”
What? I looked at Little Love and I swore she was smiling from ear to ear.
“Come on,” she seemed to say, “try it.”
I looked at the bench in the corner and thought: “Fine, if you let me get on, then I’ll do it.” I walked Little Love to the bench and she stood stock still while I climbed on. I guess it was meant to be.
It certainly was. I haven’t had such a great arena ride for months. There I was, riding bareback with a rope halter and Little Love was round and light and energetic and collected – just like that. I even managed to sit her enormous trot without falling off. What the heck? After ten minutes I got off with a smile on my face and thanked her. She licked and chewed as if to say: “Bet you didn’t expect it to be that good.”
No I didn’t. Now I just have to control my human brain and let go of the image it immediately created of me riding Little Love bareback in a rope halter all the way up to FEI level.
~ K
Be patient toward all that is unsolved in your heart and try to love the questions themselves like locked rooms and like books that are written in a very foreign tongue. Do not now seek the answers, which cannot be given you because you would not be able to live them. And the point is, to live everything. Live the questions now. Perhaps you will find them gradually, without noticing it, and live along some distant day into the answer. ~Rainer Maria Rilke, Letters to a Young Poet
I claim to be pro horse – no force, but there I was, kicking my horse. What a hypocrite. I stopped, came off her back and felt like an utter failure. And not for the first time, mind you.
Two years ago Little Love hated everything that involved working with a human. She still doesn’t love humans, but she tolerates me. I could even say that there are moments that she enjoys my company. These are mere moments, but I take them with gratitude for it is those moments that encourage me to search further, to understand her better.
But, of course, the myopic human that I am, I sometimes manage to abuse those moments, without really realizing what I am doing.
I have mostly been able to let go of the image of myself as a dressage rider, and it wasn’t as hard as I thought it would be. I used to work in the arena several times a week, but now it’s more of a miracle to see me riding in the arena. But it does happen, about once or twice every two weeks. But I’m starting to realize that it may be once or twice every two weeks too often. Not because of me, but because of Little Love.
She absolutely loathes ridden work in the arena. Loathes. There are of course exceptions to this rule, and I think she actually endures the ridden work better with her owner than with me. With me she feels comfortable enough to express her opinion loud and clear. Or perhaps she knows I am trying to listen to her more attentively than I was before. I have to admit that my listening skills have definitely improved. I do believe, however, that my comprehension skills still need a lot of work.
Despite my decision to let go of the dressage riding there are days when I get obsessed with the idea of riding in the arena. I feel like I have to. Don’t ask me why. Perhaps I’m afraid I’ll forget how to do it. Or I feel like I need to do it for the horse (or her owner). Or I’m just plain selfish and want to do it for myself. Because I used to love riding dressage and somewhere deep down inside I still do – just a little. Because isn’t that what you are supposed to do with your horse? Obviously I am still working on letting go completely.
This really wouldn’t be an issue if Little Love shared my interest. Some horses apparently do. But she doesn’t. Sometimes she lets you know this already when you are tacking up; she pins her ears back at the sight of the saddle. If I am smart enough, I choose to go on the trails or not ride at all.
But then there are the days when we actually get into the arena without a single hiccup beforehand. Little Love accepts the saddle, she seems energetic. Hopeful, I start riding in the arena, but discover ten minutes into it that Little Love is done. It’s not that she stops, she is moving reluctantly, but when she trots it is as if her feet were made out of lead. Which is undoubtedly what she feels like, too.
Under ordinary circumstances, a horse like this would get whipped. And she has faced similar consequences before. I used to do that; make sure my horse was listening to my aids by giving a small squeeze with my leg and if the horse didn’t react, I would use the whip. A few well-timed smacks and the horse was up and going. I was proud that my horses were moving from the slightest leg aid.
But, I have changed. I now believe that to achieve true connection we must abandon the use of force. We have no right to force another living being into doing something they don’t want to do simply to please our own desires to “have fun”. That all said… What am I doing kicking my friend? Perhaps I shouldn’t even be in the arena trying to ride?
Little Love teaches me the art of letting go. I’m not always a very good student, but she is patient and kind and above all, she is forgiving. I don’t deserve her as my teacher. I try my best, but unfortunately I have to admit that I am only human. And us humans, we like to be in control, we like to have goals, we like to be doing instead of being – all things my horse teacher does not understand or even appreciate. We are also very, very slow to learn what life is really about.
Every time I make a little progress, Little Love takes me to another level. I have no idea where this will end, but I’m starting to get a faint idea. She may not be done with me until I have truly let go of everything I ever believed in. But one thing I know for sure; the more I let go, the more I gain in trust, friendship and respect. And not just that, I learn to be surprised by the generosity of a horse. Because, despite my mistakes, my butt headedness, my inability to let go fast enough, and the preconceived notions of equestrianism that still haunt me time to time, she manages to somehow meet me half way.
Yesterday, after a particularly good session or in-hand work, Little Love and I were walking in the indoor when I suddenly hear her think out loud: “Ride me bareback!”
What? I looked at Little Love and I swore she was smiling from ear to ear.
“Come on,” she seemed to say, “try it.”
I looked at the bench in the corner and thought: “Fine, if you let me get on, then I’ll do it.” I walked Little Love to the bench and she stood stock still while I climbed on. I guess it was meant to be.
It certainly was. I haven’t had such a great arena ride for months. There I was, riding bareback with a rope halter and Little Love was round and light and energetic and collected – just like that. I even managed to sit her enormous trot without falling off. What the heck? After ten minutes I got off with a smile on my face and thanked her. She licked and chewed as if to say: “Bet you didn’t expect it to be that good.”
No I didn’t. Now I just have to control my human brain and let go of the image it immediately created of me riding Little Love bareback in a rope halter all the way up to FEI level.
~ K
Be patient toward all that is unsolved in your heart and try to love the questions themselves like locked rooms and like books that are written in a very foreign tongue. Do not now seek the answers, which cannot be given you because you would not be able to live them. And the point is, to live everything. Live the questions now. Perhaps you will find them gradually, without noticing it, and live along some distant day into the answer. ~Rainer Maria Rilke, Letters to a Young Poet
Monday, April 26, 2010
The Horse and the Girl Part 2
Part 1 was published August 31,2009
The horse was in his box this time, sleeping with his eyes half closed.
“Hey,” she said and leaned on his stall door, looking at him through the bars. “I’m back.”
The horse opened his eyes and picked up his head. His chewed and licked and then finally spoke.
“So I see.”
The girl slumped her shoulders and the horse snorted.
“You were wishing it was all a bad dream, weren’t you?”
She nodded slowly. “Am I going crazy?”
“Maybe you are,” the horse said, “after all, you are having a conversation with your horse!” He snorted again and a piece of snot flew out of his nose and landed on the girl shirt. She wiped it away impatiently.
“Not funny.”
“You are the one who brought it up,” the horse shrugged as if it didn’t give a damn how the girl felt. The girl frowned.
“Let’s not fight,” she said.
“Let’s not,” the horse responded and chewed a little more, as if he had an imaginary bubblegum in his mouth. They stood silent for a while, then the girl opened the box door and slipped into the stall.
“You aren’t going to try to bite me, are you?” She looked at the horse.
“I don’t know, depends what you have in mind.”
“What do you mean?”
The horse took a step back. “Well, if you are going to pretend to be brave even though you are afraid – there is a good chance I’ll bite.”
The girl stared at the horse. He shrugged again. “I hate when people are not authentic.”
“Authentic?”
“Yeah, you know, you are scared but you pretend to be brave. I don’t get that. If you are scared, you are scared. You don’t try to cover up your true feelings. I find it highly suspicious.”
“Really.” The girl thought about all this for a moment. “But my riding teacher tells me to look brave, so you won’t know that I’m scared.”
“Ha.” The horse laughed out loud. “Let me tell you a secret: I know how you feel and so do all the horses.”
“You know? How can you know?”
“We just do, it’s what we do best. And it really freaks us out when people pretend to be something they aren’t. We like it more straight forward, you know, what you see if what you get.”
The girl leaned on the wall. “I never knew that.”
“Well, now you do.”
“But how is it that my teacher doesn’t know? She keeps telling me to get big and scary and powerful looking, so you won’t bite.”
The horse sighed. “Lots of people don’t know. You guys operate in the world the way you see it. You think everyone is like you, but we aren’t. You like to control things, also your own emotions. I think it’s just best to let it all out, at least in your case.”
“What do you mean in my case! You are talking about me like I’m an emotional mess!” The girl folded her arms across her chest in defense.
“I don’t mean you in particular, but humans. You all are so emotional, and you spend half your lives trying to hide those emotions, cover them up with another emotion.”
The girl thought of herself and her mother. She nodded. “That’s true. My mom pretends like everything is alright, and like she isn’t sad and lonely and all those things. But I know she is just covering up, for my sake.”
“And how does that make you feel?”
“I don’t like it, it gives me anxiety.” She looked at the horse, the way his forelock fell to one side of his face. “Is that how you feel, too, anxious?”
The horse nodded. “I feel anxious, sometimes, but sometimes angry, too.” He smacked his lips together. “The thing is, I reflect a lot of what you feel. If you are scared, it scares me and when you get angry, well…”
“You get angry, too.” The girl finished the sentence. “It makes sense, but I never thought of it that way.” She peered into the horse’s eyes. “So, when I come here and I’ve had a bad day…”
“I know that. And I know how the ride is going to be, too.”
The girl blushed. “I know, I know, you don’t have to say it.”
“But maybe you do.”
The girl thought about it for a while and the horse turned and drank out of his automated water cup. When he turned to look at the girl again, she was ready to speak.
“I know I hit you, I hit you last week when I was riding.” She looked away, down the barn isle. “And I shouldn’t have.”
The horse stood very still. “Can you tell me why you hit me?”
The girl looked at her feet and pushed around the straw bedding with the tip of her left boot. “I suppose I was angry because you wouldn’t go forward.”
“So I wasn’t moving at the pace you wanted.”
“Yeah.” She looked embarrassed. “And now – I don’t know – I just feel like I don’t really have the right to even ask you to move forward like that.”
The horse lifted his head, there was a blade of straw sticking from his mouth and the girl felt like picking it off, but she didn’t move.
“Why? Has something changed?”
“Well, duh! Everything has changed. I mean, look at you, you can speak!”
The horse cocked his head, as if amused.
“So, because I seem more human, it’s no longer alright to beat me with a stick?”
The girl shook her head. “No, wait, that’s not what I –“ She stopped abruptly.
The horse stood before her in silence.
The girl felt so overwhelmed with embarrassment that she wanted to leave, run out of the box and hide from the feeling she had in her chest. What had she done? What kind of a monster was she? Tears sprung to her eyes. The horse took a step closer and pushed his nose close to her solar plexus, right under her heart. Suddenly she felt warm, as if a blanket of love had fallen over her from the sky.
“Wait, what are you doing?” She whispered. Tears flowed onto her cheeks and she let out a sob so deep it was as if all the sadness in the world had suddenly surfaced in her.
“I’m – “
“Sshhhh,” said the horse and blew a warm breath over the girl. They stood very still, barely touching but yet so connected it would have been impossible to separate one from the other in that moment. Forgiveness and love and acceptance floated in the air, invisible yet so tangible.
Suddenly someone walked into the barn, the girl could hear a man whistling a tune in the other aisle. The moment was broken and the horse turned away, chewing. The girl sat down in the straw and it felt strange to do that, to trust the big animal so much as to not worry about getting trampled.
“Don’t worry,” the horse said as if reading her mind, “I won’t step on you.”
“I wasn’t – “the girl started, but then stopped. If the horse really knew every emotion she had, there was no need to lie. She looked at the horse.
“Can I ask you something?”
“Sure,” the horse said.
“Do you horses talk to each other, like we are talking now?”
The horse picked at the straws, separating the left over pieces of grain with his lips.
“Of course. Actually, it’s more like being connected through space, instead of a conversation. We are all connected in the universe, all living beings and even the ones that lived long time ago.”
“You mean like the dead people?”
“Yes, I mean the dead people, but also the horse and dogs and lions and what have you. “
“So, right now there are all these ghosts hanging around?” The girl looked around, her eyes wide, but slightly skeptical. Was the horse pulling her leg?
“I’m talking about energy, rather than something as concrete as a ghost.”
The girl picked up a piece of straw and wrapped it around a finger.
“Energy?”
The horse nodded. “Yes, like the energy that surrounded us just a while ago, I know you felt it.”
The girl looked at the horse’s eyes, and wondered how she had never noticed how his lashes curled ever so slightly at the tips, giving him an almost feminine gaze. She frowned.
“But I’ve never felt that before.”
The horse looked focused, as if he was thinking hard.
“Have you ever thought of someone and then immediately after bumped into them?”
“Yes…” she was hesitant. “Wait, do you mean for example when you think of calling someone and right when you go pick up the phone, they call you?”
The horse snorted. “Yes, that would be it.”
“Or you think of someone and soon after get an email from them. I always thought that was coincidence.”
“Nope. It is intuitive communication, which in turn is based on energy traveling in space.”
“Wow.” The girl was impressed. “It makes sense, but I’ll really have to think about that a little more.”
“Sure,” the horse said.
They were silent for a while. The girl listened to the barn noises, people arriving after work to exercise their horses, taking them onto the aisles for brushing and tacking up. She felt conscious of herself, sitting in her horse’s box instead of doing something productive, like brushing.
“I better go now,” she said.
The horse nodded. “I understand.”
“I don’t have school tomorrow.”
The horse smiled. “I’ll see you in the morning then.”
The girl nodded and stood up. She wavered at the door for a moment, then extended her hand out and stroked the horse’s neck gently. “Bye now,” she said.
The horse turned his back at her to take another drink, but the girl could feel the blanket of love wrap around her and as she rode her bike in the falling dusk, love followed her all the way home.
~ K
"Many men go fishing all of their lives without knowing that it is not fish they are after" ~ Henry David Thoreau
The horse was in his box this time, sleeping with his eyes half closed.
“Hey,” she said and leaned on his stall door, looking at him through the bars. “I’m back.”
The horse opened his eyes and picked up his head. His chewed and licked and then finally spoke.
“So I see.”
The girl slumped her shoulders and the horse snorted.
“You were wishing it was all a bad dream, weren’t you?”
She nodded slowly. “Am I going crazy?”
“Maybe you are,” the horse said, “after all, you are having a conversation with your horse!” He snorted again and a piece of snot flew out of his nose and landed on the girl shirt. She wiped it away impatiently.
“Not funny.”
“You are the one who brought it up,” the horse shrugged as if it didn’t give a damn how the girl felt. The girl frowned.
“Let’s not fight,” she said.
“Let’s not,” the horse responded and chewed a little more, as if he had an imaginary bubblegum in his mouth. They stood silent for a while, then the girl opened the box door and slipped into the stall.
“You aren’t going to try to bite me, are you?” She looked at the horse.
“I don’t know, depends what you have in mind.”
“What do you mean?”
The horse took a step back. “Well, if you are going to pretend to be brave even though you are afraid – there is a good chance I’ll bite.”
The girl stared at the horse. He shrugged again. “I hate when people are not authentic.”
“Authentic?”
“Yeah, you know, you are scared but you pretend to be brave. I don’t get that. If you are scared, you are scared. You don’t try to cover up your true feelings. I find it highly suspicious.”
“Really.” The girl thought about all this for a moment. “But my riding teacher tells me to look brave, so you won’t know that I’m scared.”
“Ha.” The horse laughed out loud. “Let me tell you a secret: I know how you feel and so do all the horses.”
“You know? How can you know?”
“We just do, it’s what we do best. And it really freaks us out when people pretend to be something they aren’t. We like it more straight forward, you know, what you see if what you get.”
The girl leaned on the wall. “I never knew that.”
“Well, now you do.”
“But how is it that my teacher doesn’t know? She keeps telling me to get big and scary and powerful looking, so you won’t bite.”
The horse sighed. “Lots of people don’t know. You guys operate in the world the way you see it. You think everyone is like you, but we aren’t. You like to control things, also your own emotions. I think it’s just best to let it all out, at least in your case.”
“What do you mean in my case! You are talking about me like I’m an emotional mess!” The girl folded her arms across her chest in defense.
“I don’t mean you in particular, but humans. You all are so emotional, and you spend half your lives trying to hide those emotions, cover them up with another emotion.”
The girl thought of herself and her mother. She nodded. “That’s true. My mom pretends like everything is alright, and like she isn’t sad and lonely and all those things. But I know she is just covering up, for my sake.”
“And how does that make you feel?”
“I don’t like it, it gives me anxiety.” She looked at the horse, the way his forelock fell to one side of his face. “Is that how you feel, too, anxious?”
The horse nodded. “I feel anxious, sometimes, but sometimes angry, too.” He smacked his lips together. “The thing is, I reflect a lot of what you feel. If you are scared, it scares me and when you get angry, well…”
“You get angry, too.” The girl finished the sentence. “It makes sense, but I never thought of it that way.” She peered into the horse’s eyes. “So, when I come here and I’ve had a bad day…”
“I know that. And I know how the ride is going to be, too.”
The girl blushed. “I know, I know, you don’t have to say it.”
“But maybe you do.”
The girl thought about it for a while and the horse turned and drank out of his automated water cup. When he turned to look at the girl again, she was ready to speak.
“I know I hit you, I hit you last week when I was riding.” She looked away, down the barn isle. “And I shouldn’t have.”
The horse stood very still. “Can you tell me why you hit me?”
The girl looked at her feet and pushed around the straw bedding with the tip of her left boot. “I suppose I was angry because you wouldn’t go forward.”
“So I wasn’t moving at the pace you wanted.”
“Yeah.” She looked embarrassed. “And now – I don’t know – I just feel like I don’t really have the right to even ask you to move forward like that.”
The horse lifted his head, there was a blade of straw sticking from his mouth and the girl felt like picking it off, but she didn’t move.
“Why? Has something changed?”
“Well, duh! Everything has changed. I mean, look at you, you can speak!”
The horse cocked his head, as if amused.
“So, because I seem more human, it’s no longer alright to beat me with a stick?”
The girl shook her head. “No, wait, that’s not what I –“ She stopped abruptly.
The horse stood before her in silence.
The girl felt so overwhelmed with embarrassment that she wanted to leave, run out of the box and hide from the feeling she had in her chest. What had she done? What kind of a monster was she? Tears sprung to her eyes. The horse took a step closer and pushed his nose close to her solar plexus, right under her heart. Suddenly she felt warm, as if a blanket of love had fallen over her from the sky.
“Wait, what are you doing?” She whispered. Tears flowed onto her cheeks and she let out a sob so deep it was as if all the sadness in the world had suddenly surfaced in her.
“I’m – “
“Sshhhh,” said the horse and blew a warm breath over the girl. They stood very still, barely touching but yet so connected it would have been impossible to separate one from the other in that moment. Forgiveness and love and acceptance floated in the air, invisible yet so tangible.
Suddenly someone walked into the barn, the girl could hear a man whistling a tune in the other aisle. The moment was broken and the horse turned away, chewing. The girl sat down in the straw and it felt strange to do that, to trust the big animal so much as to not worry about getting trampled.
“Don’t worry,” the horse said as if reading her mind, “I won’t step on you.”
“I wasn’t – “the girl started, but then stopped. If the horse really knew every emotion she had, there was no need to lie. She looked at the horse.
“Can I ask you something?”
“Sure,” the horse said.
“Do you horses talk to each other, like we are talking now?”
The horse picked at the straws, separating the left over pieces of grain with his lips.
“Of course. Actually, it’s more like being connected through space, instead of a conversation. We are all connected in the universe, all living beings and even the ones that lived long time ago.”
“You mean like the dead people?”
“Yes, I mean the dead people, but also the horse and dogs and lions and what have you. “
“So, right now there are all these ghosts hanging around?” The girl looked around, her eyes wide, but slightly skeptical. Was the horse pulling her leg?
“I’m talking about energy, rather than something as concrete as a ghost.”
The girl picked up a piece of straw and wrapped it around a finger.
“Energy?”
The horse nodded. “Yes, like the energy that surrounded us just a while ago, I know you felt it.”
The girl looked at the horse’s eyes, and wondered how she had never noticed how his lashes curled ever so slightly at the tips, giving him an almost feminine gaze. She frowned.
“But I’ve never felt that before.”
The horse looked focused, as if he was thinking hard.
“Have you ever thought of someone and then immediately after bumped into them?”
“Yes…” she was hesitant. “Wait, do you mean for example when you think of calling someone and right when you go pick up the phone, they call you?”
The horse snorted. “Yes, that would be it.”
“Or you think of someone and soon after get an email from them. I always thought that was coincidence.”
“Nope. It is intuitive communication, which in turn is based on energy traveling in space.”
“Wow.” The girl was impressed. “It makes sense, but I’ll really have to think about that a little more.”
“Sure,” the horse said.
They were silent for a while. The girl listened to the barn noises, people arriving after work to exercise their horses, taking them onto the aisles for brushing and tacking up. She felt conscious of herself, sitting in her horse’s box instead of doing something productive, like brushing.
“I better go now,” she said.
The horse nodded. “I understand.”
“I don’t have school tomorrow.”
The horse smiled. “I’ll see you in the morning then.”
The girl nodded and stood up. She wavered at the door for a moment, then extended her hand out and stroked the horse’s neck gently. “Bye now,” she said.
The horse turned his back at her to take another drink, but the girl could feel the blanket of love wrap around her and as she rode her bike in the falling dusk, love followed her all the way home.
~ K
"Many men go fishing all of their lives without knowing that it is not fish they are after" ~ Henry David Thoreau
Sunday, April 18, 2010
On vaulting
We shall not cease from exploration
And the end of all our exploring
Will be to arrive where we started
And know the place for the first time.
~T.S. Eliot, 1943
I used to be an international competitor; I was the first person to compete at the international level from my country in the sport of Equestrian Vaulting. After my own career as a vaulter didn’t exactly take off, I became a coach. True to my nature, I wanted to immediately be the best coach I could be. Vaulting was my life; I dreamed and breathed the sport. It affected everything I did, my educational choices, my career turns, even my relationships. Vaulting defined me; it made me who I was and I gave it my all.
And vaulting gave back. I had the privilege to coach an exceptional bunch of individuals in two countries, to attend several World Championships, European Championships, Equestrian Games, shows, performances, and national titles. I formed lifelong friendships, visited foreign countries. I even met my husband through vaulting.
It was an exceptional twenty years in the sport. I was unarguably very good at what I did. My team won a bronze medal from the World Championships to prove my competence. I was a sought clinician, a known figure in the sport.
Then I moved to Switzerland with my family. I continued to be involved in the sport, but rather than being in the middle of it, I was now on the fringes, doing occasional clinics, going to competitions as a spectator rather than a participant. And suddenly all of it didn’t seem so important any more. Sometimes you have to create a distance to see more clearly. And the farther the distance, the more I could see what really had happened when I was part of the sport, what the real sacrifice had been.
I met an old vaulter a few weeks ago and was lucky enough to spend some time with her just talking. She is still involved in the sport and asked me if I ever missed coaching vaulting. I had to think about that question for a while before answering. Yes and no, I said. I don’t miss the part of training the horses and doing the actual vaulting, I don’t think I am cut to do that anymore. And it’s not only that I don’t believe in bits and side reins and such, but rather that I don’t believe in using a horse to fulfill human dreams about competition and fame.
I know, I know - I did it myself for years. Do I think my vaulting horses were suffering? Honestly, I don’t know. I would like to believe they weren’t, but truth told I probably did exploit them, more or less. We all do our best to give our horses a good life, and our vaulting horses could not have been loved and cared for better, of that I am sure. But, I did train them with one sole goal in mind: making my team the best in the world. So - in this respect, they were merely tools of an ambitious human. I wish I could go back and do it differently, but then again I’m not sure it can be done differently with the same results.
And that is the dichotomy: I don’t regret my years in vaulting, but I do feel guilt about being so blind about the horses. And this brings me back to the original question. Yes, I miss coaching vaulting. I now coach floorball and gymnastics, but when it comes to coaching a sport, nothing can replace vaulting. Another sport can give you the same feeling of community, the feeling of making a difference in a child’s life and a similar sense of accomplishment. And even the part about perseverance and team work and strength – it’s all there with other sports as well. But vaulting takes you to a whole other level of self-discovery only those who have been part of it can truly understand. Vaulting is not just a sport; it is a lifestyle, something that sticks with you for as long as you live. How could I ever regret being part of that?
What I know for sure is that I influenced the lives of several young girls and boys over the years, and the influence was positive. In fact, in some instances it may have been life-altering. And I dare say that the horses involved knew it too and were participating in the process. Because the horses were and are what makes vaulting special as a sport. Without the horses the experience would be completely different, merely ordinary. I’m sure it would still be good, but with certainty I can say it would not be as profound.
Perhaps this sounds like an attempt to justify my own participation in something I now consider questionable. Could Trix, Flora, Dan Cake, Jealousy, Socks, Caneel, Hunter, Juliet and Donatello - just to mention a few - have known what they were doing for those children or for me? I believe they did. And true to their horse nature, they willingly gave to us humans, to help children and adults alike find the dream they were looking for.
Will I ever coach another vaulting team? I think not. But it doesn’t mean that I don’t understand others who will.
~ K
Sometimes it's necessary to go a long distance out of the way in order to come back a short distance correctly. ~Edward Albee
And the end of all our exploring
Will be to arrive where we started
And know the place for the first time.
~T.S. Eliot, 1943
I used to be an international competitor; I was the first person to compete at the international level from my country in the sport of Equestrian Vaulting. After my own career as a vaulter didn’t exactly take off, I became a coach. True to my nature, I wanted to immediately be the best coach I could be. Vaulting was my life; I dreamed and breathed the sport. It affected everything I did, my educational choices, my career turns, even my relationships. Vaulting defined me; it made me who I was and I gave it my all.
And vaulting gave back. I had the privilege to coach an exceptional bunch of individuals in two countries, to attend several World Championships, European Championships, Equestrian Games, shows, performances, and national titles. I formed lifelong friendships, visited foreign countries. I even met my husband through vaulting.
It was an exceptional twenty years in the sport. I was unarguably very good at what I did. My team won a bronze medal from the World Championships to prove my competence. I was a sought clinician, a known figure in the sport.
Then I moved to Switzerland with my family. I continued to be involved in the sport, but rather than being in the middle of it, I was now on the fringes, doing occasional clinics, going to competitions as a spectator rather than a participant. And suddenly all of it didn’t seem so important any more. Sometimes you have to create a distance to see more clearly. And the farther the distance, the more I could see what really had happened when I was part of the sport, what the real sacrifice had been.
I met an old vaulter a few weeks ago and was lucky enough to spend some time with her just talking. She is still involved in the sport and asked me if I ever missed coaching vaulting. I had to think about that question for a while before answering. Yes and no, I said. I don’t miss the part of training the horses and doing the actual vaulting, I don’t think I am cut to do that anymore. And it’s not only that I don’t believe in bits and side reins and such, but rather that I don’t believe in using a horse to fulfill human dreams about competition and fame.
I know, I know - I did it myself for years. Do I think my vaulting horses were suffering? Honestly, I don’t know. I would like to believe they weren’t, but truth told I probably did exploit them, more or less. We all do our best to give our horses a good life, and our vaulting horses could not have been loved and cared for better, of that I am sure. But, I did train them with one sole goal in mind: making my team the best in the world. So - in this respect, they were merely tools of an ambitious human. I wish I could go back and do it differently, but then again I’m not sure it can be done differently with the same results.
And that is the dichotomy: I don’t regret my years in vaulting, but I do feel guilt about being so blind about the horses. And this brings me back to the original question. Yes, I miss coaching vaulting. I now coach floorball and gymnastics, but when it comes to coaching a sport, nothing can replace vaulting. Another sport can give you the same feeling of community, the feeling of making a difference in a child’s life and a similar sense of accomplishment. And even the part about perseverance and team work and strength – it’s all there with other sports as well. But vaulting takes you to a whole other level of self-discovery only those who have been part of it can truly understand. Vaulting is not just a sport; it is a lifestyle, something that sticks with you for as long as you live. How could I ever regret being part of that?
What I know for sure is that I influenced the lives of several young girls and boys over the years, and the influence was positive. In fact, in some instances it may have been life-altering. And I dare say that the horses involved knew it too and were participating in the process. Because the horses were and are what makes vaulting special as a sport. Without the horses the experience would be completely different, merely ordinary. I’m sure it would still be good, but with certainty I can say it would not be as profound.
Perhaps this sounds like an attempt to justify my own participation in something I now consider questionable. Could Trix, Flora, Dan Cake, Jealousy, Socks, Caneel, Hunter, Juliet and Donatello - just to mention a few - have known what they were doing for those children or for me? I believe they did. And true to their horse nature, they willingly gave to us humans, to help children and adults alike find the dream they were looking for.
Will I ever coach another vaulting team? I think not. But it doesn’t mean that I don’t understand others who will.
~ K
Sometimes it's necessary to go a long distance out of the way in order to come back a short distance correctly. ~Edward Albee
Tuesday, April 13, 2010
The Path
The real voyage of discovery consists not in seeking new landscapes, but in having new eyes. ~Marcel Proust
I’ve been on the road for the past two weeks and haven’t had any time to write. This doesn’t mean that I haven’t been thinking about writing – quite the contrary. I have been waiting for this moment for days, the moment I can sit down and try to make sense of everything I felt these past two weeks. But now that I finally sit here at the computer my mind and heart are practically overflowing with thoughts, impressions and emotions. How do I start to unwind the tangled mess also known as my consciousness? Where do I find the end of the red thread that I know is there?
Over the Easter break I visited Finland, my home country. During this visit to Finland I met an array of interesting people and horses. I tried bitless bridles on three willing mounts, I spoke to two groups about the biomechanics of riding, talked with several individuals about the physical, psychological and emotional impression we make on horses, taught numerous riding lessons that focused solely on communicating with the horse via the rider’s seat and watched the movie The Path of the Horse with two friends. I had a busy schedule, and afterwards felt physically tired. But, as tired as I was, there was a certain calmness inside me; thoughts that had occupied my mind for months suddenly came to a halt. This enabled me to find some sort of temporary peace.
I’ve been around horses for over 30 years, but it hasn’t been until in the past two years that I have noticed a collective shift in how equestrian people think. I seem to run into “alternative people” left and right, sort of like when you are trying to become pregnant you see pregnant women everywhere. I first thought it was because of the shift in my own consciousness that allowed me to finally be able to spot these people, but I have now come to realize that the world is changing.
The world holds a balance in everything. If the winter is cold with a lot of snow, the summer will be warm with no rain to balance out the average temperature and rainfall of the year. I believe the same is happening in the horse world. Thanks to the internet, word about Rollkur, hyperflexion and other examples of extremely competitive riding travels at the speed of light. Unfortunately many people follow the example and adopt these methods to their own training, sometimes even without questioning them. On the other hand, more and more people are starting to turn the other way, seeking softer, more humane interaction with horses. Suddenly it is as if two completely different worlds reside in the same universe, but do not coexist in perfect harmony: the polarization of the equestrian world is stronger than ever.
When I think about everything I experienced during my stay in Finland - the people I talked with and the horses I met - my general feeling is of optimism. Optimism because now more than ever I realize that there really are many people out there who are seeking something different, new answers to age old questions; people who want to take a step on what has become known to us “alternative horse people” as The Path.
The Path (of the Horse) is the personal journey people embark on when they decide to stop using force and start listening to their horse. The Path is for people who want to be with their horses in a gentler way, without using force or pressure. The Path is never the same for any given individual, it is unique to each and every one. This makes it often a highly personal experience that involves a lot of self-reflecting and soul-searching.
People get on The Path in different ways. In hindsight I can see that I was on The Path for several years, but traveled at snail speed. I was not aware of my progress or that I was on a journey. My personal turning point happened in June 2008 when I first tried the bitless bridle on Little Love. Since that experience, I started traveling down The Path at record speed, abandoning most of my old beliefs and looking for new solutions. But - despite the progress I have made and the things I have learned about horses and myself, I still have the impression that I am in the very beginning of this road.
Being on The Path is not trouble-free. It most often involves feeling desperate, lost and alone. Increased knowledge means increased pain. It is suddenly hard to interact with people I call “mainstream equestrians”, people who are not on The Path. Things you never used to pay attention to become so pronounced that you can’t stop thinking of them for hours, sometimes days: a yank in the mouth, a kick with the spurs, a horse’s neck rolled tight with draw reins or a harsh bit; a yell, a slap, a demand. All that force and pressure, all that need for control. And this is supposed to be ok? You wonder why you didn’t see all that before.
Being on The Path also requires loads and loads of persistent. There are days when I want to stay home and forget I ever knew a horse, let alone a person who rode one (myself included). It is easy to become desperate, it is easy to become isolated. And that is exactly why I keep on going, because I feel that there are so many people out there waiting to connect with their horses and vice versa. People like me.
Or like the people I met in Finland. Not all of them have found The Path as of yet, most don’t even know it exists, but you can tell they are seeking. I can always spot the signs: the open mind, the desperate need to understand their horse, the hunger for answers, a hopeful belief that there has to be something else out there, than what they have learned. It is as if a door has opened in these people, a door that was not there before. Sometimes the door is wide open and sometimes there is just a crack, but I can see the opportunity that lays there, the chance to step out of the box and closer to The Path.
And that is what my life is about: traveling my Path with such vigor that it sets other people seeking for theirs. I used to think I did it because I love teaching, but while in Finland I realized that actually I do it because I love learning. Every time I meet a new person, a new horse, be it a teaching situation or just a random encounter, it is an opportunity for me to learn something about the psychology and way of horses. And ultimately this means I learn about myself. It is like a drug, the learning; sometimes it makes you feel like crap, but sometimes it sends you off into a universe of bliss. But at the end of the day, no matter what you have felt, you want more.
I have no idea where this is going to end or if it even has an end. I have let go of so many areas in life that used to be part of who I am, that in many respects I have changed completely. And I don’t think I’m exactly done changing. I think it is finally time to really examine where I came from and where I am now. I have come a long way from those days as an international vaulting coach, a trainer and a dressage rider. But I do think I have changed for the best and hopefully continue to change for the better.
I haven’t actually lived in Finland for over ten years, but I keep going back every year, sometimes several times. Despite living in different countries as a child and now as an adult, I am still Finnish by heart. It is in Finland where I first fell in love with horses, it is in Finland where I connected with horses as a child. My family is in Finland and many of my dearest friends. But there is also something else; there is the memory of the beginning.
Sometimes you have to go back to your roots to really see how far you have traveled.
Happy traveling,
~K
There's an alternative. There's always a third way, and it's not a combination of the other two ways. It's a different way. ~David Carradine
I’ve been on the road for the past two weeks and haven’t had any time to write. This doesn’t mean that I haven’t been thinking about writing – quite the contrary. I have been waiting for this moment for days, the moment I can sit down and try to make sense of everything I felt these past two weeks. But now that I finally sit here at the computer my mind and heart are practically overflowing with thoughts, impressions and emotions. How do I start to unwind the tangled mess also known as my consciousness? Where do I find the end of the red thread that I know is there?
Over the Easter break I visited Finland, my home country. During this visit to Finland I met an array of interesting people and horses. I tried bitless bridles on three willing mounts, I spoke to two groups about the biomechanics of riding, talked with several individuals about the physical, psychological and emotional impression we make on horses, taught numerous riding lessons that focused solely on communicating with the horse via the rider’s seat and watched the movie The Path of the Horse with two friends. I had a busy schedule, and afterwards felt physically tired. But, as tired as I was, there was a certain calmness inside me; thoughts that had occupied my mind for months suddenly came to a halt. This enabled me to find some sort of temporary peace.
I’ve been around horses for over 30 years, but it hasn’t been until in the past two years that I have noticed a collective shift in how equestrian people think. I seem to run into “alternative people” left and right, sort of like when you are trying to become pregnant you see pregnant women everywhere. I first thought it was because of the shift in my own consciousness that allowed me to finally be able to spot these people, but I have now come to realize that the world is changing.
The world holds a balance in everything. If the winter is cold with a lot of snow, the summer will be warm with no rain to balance out the average temperature and rainfall of the year. I believe the same is happening in the horse world. Thanks to the internet, word about Rollkur, hyperflexion and other examples of extremely competitive riding travels at the speed of light. Unfortunately many people follow the example and adopt these methods to their own training, sometimes even without questioning them. On the other hand, more and more people are starting to turn the other way, seeking softer, more humane interaction with horses. Suddenly it is as if two completely different worlds reside in the same universe, but do not coexist in perfect harmony: the polarization of the equestrian world is stronger than ever.
When I think about everything I experienced during my stay in Finland - the people I talked with and the horses I met - my general feeling is of optimism. Optimism because now more than ever I realize that there really are many people out there who are seeking something different, new answers to age old questions; people who want to take a step on what has become known to us “alternative horse people” as The Path.
The Path (of the Horse) is the personal journey people embark on when they decide to stop using force and start listening to their horse. The Path is for people who want to be with their horses in a gentler way, without using force or pressure. The Path is never the same for any given individual, it is unique to each and every one. This makes it often a highly personal experience that involves a lot of self-reflecting and soul-searching.
People get on The Path in different ways. In hindsight I can see that I was on The Path for several years, but traveled at snail speed. I was not aware of my progress or that I was on a journey. My personal turning point happened in June 2008 when I first tried the bitless bridle on Little Love. Since that experience, I started traveling down The Path at record speed, abandoning most of my old beliefs and looking for new solutions. But - despite the progress I have made and the things I have learned about horses and myself, I still have the impression that I am in the very beginning of this road.
Being on The Path is not trouble-free. It most often involves feeling desperate, lost and alone. Increased knowledge means increased pain. It is suddenly hard to interact with people I call “mainstream equestrians”, people who are not on The Path. Things you never used to pay attention to become so pronounced that you can’t stop thinking of them for hours, sometimes days: a yank in the mouth, a kick with the spurs, a horse’s neck rolled tight with draw reins or a harsh bit; a yell, a slap, a demand. All that force and pressure, all that need for control. And this is supposed to be ok? You wonder why you didn’t see all that before.
Being on The Path also requires loads and loads of persistent. There are days when I want to stay home and forget I ever knew a horse, let alone a person who rode one (myself included). It is easy to become desperate, it is easy to become isolated. And that is exactly why I keep on going, because I feel that there are so many people out there waiting to connect with their horses and vice versa. People like me.
Or like the people I met in Finland. Not all of them have found The Path as of yet, most don’t even know it exists, but you can tell they are seeking. I can always spot the signs: the open mind, the desperate need to understand their horse, the hunger for answers, a hopeful belief that there has to be something else out there, than what they have learned. It is as if a door has opened in these people, a door that was not there before. Sometimes the door is wide open and sometimes there is just a crack, but I can see the opportunity that lays there, the chance to step out of the box and closer to The Path.
And that is what my life is about: traveling my Path with such vigor that it sets other people seeking for theirs. I used to think I did it because I love teaching, but while in Finland I realized that actually I do it because I love learning. Every time I meet a new person, a new horse, be it a teaching situation or just a random encounter, it is an opportunity for me to learn something about the psychology and way of horses. And ultimately this means I learn about myself. It is like a drug, the learning; sometimes it makes you feel like crap, but sometimes it sends you off into a universe of bliss. But at the end of the day, no matter what you have felt, you want more.
I have no idea where this is going to end or if it even has an end. I have let go of so many areas in life that used to be part of who I am, that in many respects I have changed completely. And I don’t think I’m exactly done changing. I think it is finally time to really examine where I came from and where I am now. I have come a long way from those days as an international vaulting coach, a trainer and a dressage rider. But I do think I have changed for the best and hopefully continue to change for the better.
I haven’t actually lived in Finland for over ten years, but I keep going back every year, sometimes several times. Despite living in different countries as a child and now as an adult, I am still Finnish by heart. It is in Finland where I first fell in love with horses, it is in Finland where I connected with horses as a child. My family is in Finland and many of my dearest friends. But there is also something else; there is the memory of the beginning.
Sometimes you have to go back to your roots to really see how far you have traveled.
Happy traveling,
~K
There's an alternative. There's always a third way, and it's not a combination of the other two ways. It's a different way. ~David Carradine
Saturday, March 27, 2010
Breaking (heart)
I stand at the edge of the
arena and I
can’t help but notice what is happening.
Some call it training, some call it
schooling. I call it (heart) breaking.
There is nothing I can do, nothing that
has not already been said and done. Over and over
my words go unheard.
I want to stand up
in arms, but responding to violence
with violence was never
ever the answer.
And while others are watching
they don’t see you. Not the way
I see
how everything is clear; the pain,
the panic disclosing in your
eyes, in your heart (breaking).
I stand at the edge of the
arena and I
feel like I have failed you-
and I still keep
failing while my heart (breaking)
rages, a blazing ember.
Forgive me, I only wanted to
love you my friend. And
now I don’t know
how to save
to end to prevent to
conjure a Miracle to
stop this breaking (heart).
~ K
arena and I
can’t help but notice what is happening.
Some call it training, some call it
schooling. I call it (heart) breaking.
There is nothing I can do, nothing that
has not already been said and done. Over and over
my words go unheard.
I want to stand up
in arms, but responding to violence
with violence was never
ever the answer.
And while others are watching
they don’t see you. Not the way
I see
how everything is clear; the pain,
the panic disclosing in your
eyes, in your heart (breaking).
I stand at the edge of the
arena and I
feel like I have failed you-
and I still keep
failing while my heart (breaking)
rages, a blazing ember.
Forgive me, I only wanted to
love you my friend. And
now I don’t know
how to save
to end to prevent to
conjure a Miracle to
stop this breaking (heart).
~ K
Monday, March 22, 2010
A little seed of awareness
“Even a thought, even a possibility can shatter us and transform us.” -Friedrich Nietche
When I was hanging out with Little Love in the arena the other day, one of the other boarders was riding her mare at the other end. That end of the arena is known among the horses as the “freaky corner”; lots of strange and spooky noises, definitely something to be very suspicious about – especially during winter.
The mare at the other end definitely was aware of the corner; she was shying away slightly every round at the trot. The lady rode her horse rolled in fairly tightly: turning the mare’s head in and out, left and right, obviously trying to keep the horse’s attention on the rider. The mare’s tail twitched periodically as she eyeballed the corner.
She had a Pelham bit in her mouth and because of prior issues with “headshaking”, the owner didn’t use a nose band on the mare’s bridle. This allowed the horse to open her mouth as much as she wanted, which she did. I could hear her teeth clonking together and her lips flapping and the chain on the bit dangling when the horse fiddled with the position of the bit. After 10 minutes of work, I could see that nothing much had changed, apart from the fact that the mare was getting more and more reluctant to move forward.
I worked with Little Love in hand, trying to ignore the emotional message this mare at the other end of the arena was sending out to her rider. My heightened awareness in situations like these gives me the worst of all feelings: the feeling of utter helplessness. I have learned that trying to interfere is not an option, at least not when the subject is a person who would never dream of taking advice from someone like me. Silently I contemplated leaving the arena.
It was then, after rounds and rounds of mouth opening, tail twitching, sucking back and trying to stop, that the mare exploded. She rushed forward, performed two massive bucks which launched the owner in the air. Once the woman was airborne, the mare stopped in her tracks and let out a deep sigh. The owner landed on the ground on all fours while the horse stood still some five feet away. Little Love, standing calmly beside me turned to look at me and chewed as if she had been expecting the tantrum all along.
Fortunately the lady was all right. She took a few deep breaths and got back on her horse, her mouth pinched in a tight line. I tried to talk with her then, to see if I could help, but she was not up for a conversation and dismissed me completely. I left the arena shortly after.
Later, when I saw the woman in the barn, she felt compelled to explain to me why her horse had behaved so badly.
“She doesn’t want to work, that’s all,” the owner said. “That’s why she spooks in the corner. She never spooks when I’m not riding and even with long reins she’s ok. But the minute I pick up the reins, she pretends to spook. It’s just the mare’s way of trying to get out of work. She does this all the time. And did you see her? The second she got me off, she stopped. She’s not really afraid in that corner.”
I marveled at the woman’s logic, but even more I marveled over the fact that I might have spoken those exact words not so long ago.
“Oh yeah, my horse is lazy, he’ll do anything to get out of work. Like pretend to spook.”
Sounds so logical. That’s what human’s do, right? We don’t want to work so we do other things, procrastinate on watching television or pretend to be busy with something else. Sort of like spooking at the corner, in a way. And perhaps this is a valid theory. Perhaps horses talk to each other and say: “Hey, just keep spooking in the corner, it freaked out my rider so bad that she took me back into the barn.” And I know, horse’s can be inventive. After all, their DNA tells them to preserve energy for when they really need it.
But something the lady said kept echoing in my head: “She’s not really afraid of that corner.” Now that was a valuable observation. If she wasn’t afraid of the corner, what was she afraid of? Because – undoubtedly – something was bothering the mare.
I used to be one of those riders who had a solution for every problem. My horse’s mouth was open: I strapped it shut with a noseband. My horse spooked in the corner: I rode it for an hour on a small circle until we were both blue in the face and over the spooky corner. My horse was lazy: I gave him a few smacks with the whip to get him moving. He bucked? He got smacked again and ridden for an hour on a circle until we were both blue in the face. All this worked to some extent, because horses are that way, they are compliant and will work with you, even -and often especially - when you are being a bully. I still can’t believe I was so absorbed in fixing the symptoms that I never stopped to think of the causes. But I also can’t believe how much my thinking has changed, how much I have changed.
Why is equestrian problem solving mainly based on solutions that work for humans only? Why didn’t I, as I was strapping a horse’s mouth closed, or whipping it into submission, think of how it felt to the horse? Surely he still wanted to avoid the bit by opening his mouth, but no longer could. Surely he was trying to communicate something valuable to me, which I ignored. Why are so many problems in the horse world solved with this “out of sight, out of mind”- logic? People are so fixated on what the horse looks like, that they forget to think what the horse is feeling, experiencing, thinking. Even when they are spelling it out in capital letters.
So many other areas in our lives take pride in a holistic and comprehensive thinking, why not do the same with horses? We use lateral problem-solving all the time. If the horse’s mouth is constantly open, why not, instead of strapping it closed, ask: “Why is it open?” If a horse is constantly bucking the rider off, why not research the possible causes, instead of jumping to conclusions. According to my experience horses don’t act, they react. If we give ourselves the right to own these beautiful animals, it is our duty to discover what they are reacting to, it is our duty to listen to what they are saying.
Learning starts with awareness. If you aren’t aware of what you are doing, it is impossible to change your behavior. Sometimes awareness hits you in the head like a ton of bricks, but usually it creeps on you slowly. I can’t exactly pinpoint the moment the seed of awareness was planted in me, it may have been the moment I tried to bitless bridle for the first time. Or, perhaps there had been a seed or two even before that. All I know is that that little seed snowballed into something absolutely enormous. And that ball is still rolling, that plant is still growing.
I tried my best to talk to this lady who was bucked off about the different possibilities for the mare’s behavior. I’m not sure how much of my ideas penetrated her mind, she seemed pretty stuck on her own theory on the mare’s unwillingness to work. When horses demonstrate unwanted behavior, suggestions of for example removing the bit are usually met with horrified looks and even hostility. And I fully understand why; my solutions are hardly mainstream and they require the rider to question a whole array of beliefs. Most people aren’t ready for that, at least not right away. But I know from personal experience that the seeds for change get planted over a course of time. And every little seed counts. You never know which one will grow a plant.
~K
PS. Unfortunately, riding related accidents have not been yet studied in relation to tack; researchers also tend to look for other answers to the horse’s behavior – the ground, the weather, the rider’s skills level – even the breed of the horse. I find this amazing. After seeing the positive changes in so many horses when removing the bit, I believe a great number of horses are suffering from the tack they are using. Most suffer in unnoticed “silence” but others are more outspoken. If you want to read more about this, go to: http://www.bitlessbridle.com/dbID/390.html for a great article by Dr.Cook.
When I was hanging out with Little Love in the arena the other day, one of the other boarders was riding her mare at the other end. That end of the arena is known among the horses as the “freaky corner”; lots of strange and spooky noises, definitely something to be very suspicious about – especially during winter.
The mare at the other end definitely was aware of the corner; she was shying away slightly every round at the trot. The lady rode her horse rolled in fairly tightly: turning the mare’s head in and out, left and right, obviously trying to keep the horse’s attention on the rider. The mare’s tail twitched periodically as she eyeballed the corner.
She had a Pelham bit in her mouth and because of prior issues with “headshaking”, the owner didn’t use a nose band on the mare’s bridle. This allowed the horse to open her mouth as much as she wanted, which she did. I could hear her teeth clonking together and her lips flapping and the chain on the bit dangling when the horse fiddled with the position of the bit. After 10 minutes of work, I could see that nothing much had changed, apart from the fact that the mare was getting more and more reluctant to move forward.
I worked with Little Love in hand, trying to ignore the emotional message this mare at the other end of the arena was sending out to her rider. My heightened awareness in situations like these gives me the worst of all feelings: the feeling of utter helplessness. I have learned that trying to interfere is not an option, at least not when the subject is a person who would never dream of taking advice from someone like me. Silently I contemplated leaving the arena.
It was then, after rounds and rounds of mouth opening, tail twitching, sucking back and trying to stop, that the mare exploded. She rushed forward, performed two massive bucks which launched the owner in the air. Once the woman was airborne, the mare stopped in her tracks and let out a deep sigh. The owner landed on the ground on all fours while the horse stood still some five feet away. Little Love, standing calmly beside me turned to look at me and chewed as if she had been expecting the tantrum all along.
Fortunately the lady was all right. She took a few deep breaths and got back on her horse, her mouth pinched in a tight line. I tried to talk with her then, to see if I could help, but she was not up for a conversation and dismissed me completely. I left the arena shortly after.
Later, when I saw the woman in the barn, she felt compelled to explain to me why her horse had behaved so badly.
“She doesn’t want to work, that’s all,” the owner said. “That’s why she spooks in the corner. She never spooks when I’m not riding and even with long reins she’s ok. But the minute I pick up the reins, she pretends to spook. It’s just the mare’s way of trying to get out of work. She does this all the time. And did you see her? The second she got me off, she stopped. She’s not really afraid in that corner.”
I marveled at the woman’s logic, but even more I marveled over the fact that I might have spoken those exact words not so long ago.
“Oh yeah, my horse is lazy, he’ll do anything to get out of work. Like pretend to spook.”
Sounds so logical. That’s what human’s do, right? We don’t want to work so we do other things, procrastinate on watching television or pretend to be busy with something else. Sort of like spooking at the corner, in a way. And perhaps this is a valid theory. Perhaps horses talk to each other and say: “Hey, just keep spooking in the corner, it freaked out my rider so bad that she took me back into the barn.” And I know, horse’s can be inventive. After all, their DNA tells them to preserve energy for when they really need it.
But something the lady said kept echoing in my head: “She’s not really afraid of that corner.” Now that was a valuable observation. If she wasn’t afraid of the corner, what was she afraid of? Because – undoubtedly – something was bothering the mare.
I used to be one of those riders who had a solution for every problem. My horse’s mouth was open: I strapped it shut with a noseband. My horse spooked in the corner: I rode it for an hour on a small circle until we were both blue in the face and over the spooky corner. My horse was lazy: I gave him a few smacks with the whip to get him moving. He bucked? He got smacked again and ridden for an hour on a circle until we were both blue in the face. All this worked to some extent, because horses are that way, they are compliant and will work with you, even -and often especially - when you are being a bully. I still can’t believe I was so absorbed in fixing the symptoms that I never stopped to think of the causes. But I also can’t believe how much my thinking has changed, how much I have changed.
Why is equestrian problem solving mainly based on solutions that work for humans only? Why didn’t I, as I was strapping a horse’s mouth closed, or whipping it into submission, think of how it felt to the horse? Surely he still wanted to avoid the bit by opening his mouth, but no longer could. Surely he was trying to communicate something valuable to me, which I ignored. Why are so many problems in the horse world solved with this “out of sight, out of mind”- logic? People are so fixated on what the horse looks like, that they forget to think what the horse is feeling, experiencing, thinking. Even when they are spelling it out in capital letters.
So many other areas in our lives take pride in a holistic and comprehensive thinking, why not do the same with horses? We use lateral problem-solving all the time. If the horse’s mouth is constantly open, why not, instead of strapping it closed, ask: “Why is it open?” If a horse is constantly bucking the rider off, why not research the possible causes, instead of jumping to conclusions. According to my experience horses don’t act, they react. If we give ourselves the right to own these beautiful animals, it is our duty to discover what they are reacting to, it is our duty to listen to what they are saying.
Learning starts with awareness. If you aren’t aware of what you are doing, it is impossible to change your behavior. Sometimes awareness hits you in the head like a ton of bricks, but usually it creeps on you slowly. I can’t exactly pinpoint the moment the seed of awareness was planted in me, it may have been the moment I tried to bitless bridle for the first time. Or, perhaps there had been a seed or two even before that. All I know is that that little seed snowballed into something absolutely enormous. And that ball is still rolling, that plant is still growing.
I tried my best to talk to this lady who was bucked off about the different possibilities for the mare’s behavior. I’m not sure how much of my ideas penetrated her mind, she seemed pretty stuck on her own theory on the mare’s unwillingness to work. When horses demonstrate unwanted behavior, suggestions of for example removing the bit are usually met with horrified looks and even hostility. And I fully understand why; my solutions are hardly mainstream and they require the rider to question a whole array of beliefs. Most people aren’t ready for that, at least not right away. But I know from personal experience that the seeds for change get planted over a course of time. And every little seed counts. You never know which one will grow a plant.
~K
PS. Unfortunately, riding related accidents have not been yet studied in relation to tack; researchers also tend to look for other answers to the horse’s behavior – the ground, the weather, the rider’s skills level – even the breed of the horse. I find this amazing. After seeing the positive changes in so many horses when removing the bit, I believe a great number of horses are suffering from the tack they are using. Most suffer in unnoticed “silence” but others are more outspoken. If you want to read more about this, go to: http://www.bitlessbridle.com/dbID/390.html for a great article by Dr.Cook.
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