Skip navigation

Tag Archives: Control

The Plausibility of Positivity

The Project:

One Mustang directly off the range

One trainer

No tools

Just body language

 

The Goal:

To discover how far Equestrian Art can be developed solely using body language.

 

The Plausibility of Positivity

 

Five thirty in the morning, Thursday: the sky was dark, the moon was bright, the air crisp and dry, the world cold and frozen in a quiet stillness. In the sand arena, with its puddle of deceptively warm golden light emanating from the lamp under the walnut tree, stood Myrnah, Cleo, and I. The end of the week was rapidly approaching and I felt at a loss for words. What do I write about this week? In those quiet moments with the mustangs, building our skills one small action at a time, life feels positively perfect. So today I want to suggest the plausibility of positivity being perhaps the best feeling on earth.

 

The interesting twist: positivity needs negativity in order to exist. There is no black without white, and no up without down. We are all raised from childhood with the stories of good winning over evil. As we mature we discover nothing is that simple and perspective plays a large part of any story. We learn that beauty is in the eye of the beholder, and a moment can feel perfect or hopeless with the simple twist of emotion and perspective.

 

Horses have a simpler outlook on life, as they don’t make things as complicated as people do, none the less the shades of grey in perspective exist for them too. They can feel good or bad, just like we can, and it is a plausible argument that positivity feels just as good to them as it does to us.

 

Positivity- Consisting in or characterized by the presence or possession of features or qualities rather than their absence.

 

Negativity- Consisting in the absence rather than the presence of distinguishing features.

 

When you break down the definitions, it becomes “a glass is half full” versus “the glass is half empty” point of view. If we become mired in either viewpoint, life becomes half of what it could be. When we see the whole picture, then and only then can the experience of life reach into its full potential.

Last week I wrote about waiting for the emotional change: the art of choosing a task slightly beyond our skill level and sitting with the negative feeling or lack of skill/lack of comfort that goes along with learning- sitting with it long enough that the emotion changes, and the feelings start to become positive as we begin to believe perhaps we do have the skill for this task after all.

 

Positivity and Negativity are intertwined in a dance. With training horses we (as a partnership- horse and rider) need to feel just enough lack or negativity to motivate us to grow and develop, and to give us the contrast that makes positivity ever more sweet. For the most part though, we all do better in life if we feel good. Positivity is what makes life feel worthwhile.

 

In a perfect world the majority of our training is spent in a state of flow where we can see the whole picture, negativity and positivity in balance, the emotional outlook on what we have and what we don’t have, equivalent in weight, the challenge and the skill evenly matched and evolving as we work together.

 

In the world I live in, life is sometimes more dramatic than that as I am torn between the negative understanding of what I want and don’t have yet, and the bliss of what I do have that might just be perfect without ever changing anything.

So it is a dance of positivity and negativity with Myrnah and me: the quiet perfect moments where I lie in the grass as she nibbles the blades around me, a blissful moment in the sun perfect in it’s simplicity, the moments of flow where we practice together, skill and challenge in balance, gently evolving our navigation of the world around us. And the moments of negativity where I want more than we have and I can feel the lack keenly. If I get the dance right, I can feel that lack and negativity and then back off from it into our state of flow… that would be the development I spoke of in development versus training. If I feel the need to wrestle with negativity instead, I can always push harder and see what happens. The thing about this project is, with no halter, or rope or fences to trap Myrnah in, pushing harder doesn’t usually go so well.

 

Midweek Myrnah and I took our long walk out through the woods. The stream where we sometimes stop for a drink was rushing faster than usual. I wanted to go play in the stream; Myrnah wanted to eat the ferns growing along the path. We had a lack of consensus in direction and plan, and that lack bothered me, so I pushed Myrnah to do what I wanted to do. There are lots of ways I could have seen the lack of harmony between us and used the knowledge to guide our progress together. Instead, I got stubborn and pushed her to stay specifically beside me, regardless of what she wanted. The good news is we are bonded enough she tried her best to see my side of the argument, there was some give and take as we moved forward and and back and left and right next to the bubbling brook. However, on that particular day I couldn’t quite find the positivity we needed to both feel good about the situation, and so, for the first time, Myrnah left me out in the big woods. Whoops. She didn’t go far, five hundred feet trotting back up the trail with me running after her, and then she turned back to me with an expression as if to say, “Are you willing to be more reasonable now?”

 

I have to laugh; this is a cooperative process, and Myrnah gets a vote. The fact that she has never worn a halter and is still willing to leave her herd and walk out in the woods with me at all is amazingly beautiful in itself. The fact that she will go close to the stream when she doesn’t feel like it just because I asked is awesome. The fact that she can say no when I am being unreasonably pushy is a fabulous learning curve for me.

 

The plausibility of positivity being the best feeling in the world is perhaps the most vital piece to Myrnah’s development with me as her partner. If I stray from positivity for too long there is nothing stopping her from walking away from me. This is a dance where negativity is useful as a contrast, but I have to be careful to leave it at that. This is a partnership built on positivity. It is far from black and white, with variations of positivity and negativity to give it scope and vivid fullness. However the basis of this relationship with Myrnah is pure and clearly positive. Without tools of force, we have nothing but the positivity that unites us. I like it that way.

Elsa Sinclair

EquineClarity.com

Waiting for the Emotional Change

The Project:

One Mustang directly off the range

One trainer

No tools

Just body language

The Goal:

To discover how far Equestrian Art can be developed solely using body language.

Waiting for the Emotional Change

Every one of us- Horses, People, and every other sentient being out there- wants just one thing. We all want to feel better than we did a moment before. Some of us build up varied amounts of discipline for delayed gratification, trading in our current better feeling on the promise of something far greater waiting ahead. Some of us have less forethought and just grab whatever better feeling we can find regardless of the cost. Most of us know it is in our best interest to hold out for feeling the best we possibly can, even if we have to wait for it, but how do we develop the discipline it takes? Waiting for the Emotional Change is one of the best ways I know to go about it.

Myrnah and I have been working on a current sticking place in the project together. She just isn’t fully comfortable with my sitting on her (unless she is too busy eating to notice); I want her full and absolute approval before we start to ride together.

Myrnah’s needs are simple- she just wants to feel better. I know how much fun riding is going to be for us; she doesn’t know that yet. So how do I build up her discipline to a point that allows her to get through the insecurity of something new and into finding more fun with me as a result?

The answer is: break it down just like any other task, and develop it one step at a time. I believe the strongest support for developing a new skill is waiting for the emotion to change for the better, and then rewarding that emotional change with quiet companionship.

In the beginning I taught Myrnah to pay attention to me. Full attention on her was pressure; then, when she gave me her full attention, I would look away, take a deep breath, and relax as reward. This was good- a game of advance and retreat to develop our relationship. However, I didn’t quit there at the simple accurate physical response. The discipline of the action really began to develop when Myrnah could reward herself. That reward was the emotional change.

In people we can see an emotional change for the better in a smile, or a deep relaxing breath, in the shoulders settling, or a yawn and a stretch. In horses the changes are there to be observed as well- the ears coming forward, the muscles relaxing, the jaw loosening to lick and chew or yawn, sometimes a soft nuzzle to a friend.

Associations are strong. If we can stay in a new and possibly uncomfortable pattern long enough for the emotions to relax, changing for the better, all of a sudden we begin to associate the new pattern with feeling better.

Sometimes emotions change for the worse- anger, fear, or shutdown- and that is when we must retreat. We don’t want to reward the behavior that can come from negative emotion, (so we may play a continual game of advance and retreat until the physical behavior changes) yet we must remember pushing (with no retreat) through negative actions can often have negative side affects that will have to be addressed later. So we advance and retreat, working in and out of patterns that the horse can sustain long enough to find the positive emotional change.

We are looking for the sense of flow where challenge and skill are both within range, the challenge at hand pushing the skill to evolve. If the challenge at hand is too difficult for the available skill, the horse will try to evade and get away seek a better feeling. The only way to build the discipline that consistently bridges the gap between challenge and skill is to wait for and reward the positive emotional changes.

If we can teach the horse to reach for a good feeling, relaxing and letting go of tension even in a new or uncomfortable exercise, then we have a horse who is building the discipline to learn. If we can push them just far enough out of their comfort zone that they develop, but not so far that they want to evade, that is good. Better, however, is staying there long enough, waiting for the emotional change that rewards the horse internally.

When the horse can feel an internal reward for something he thought was going to be difficult, uncomfortable, and not at all better, then he begins to build faith in the developmental process.

Our job as friends and trainers to our horses is to help them wait for the emotional changes that make them feel better. Our job is to challenge them just enough to cause life to be interesting and full of development, perceiving and breaking down the tasks that cause them to evade, escape or fight back. Allowing them to learn a piece at a time, while we wait for the emotional changes that will reward the horse from the core of who they are.

Pressure motivates; Release teaches. What I most want to teach my horses is how to feel better, even when they are challenged. So, when they are challenged (feeling pressure), and I see them take a deep breath, relax, and enjoy it, I know all the practice we put in waiting for the emotional change has been well worth it.

Here is to feeling better, each and every moment, regardless of the challenges we may face.

Elsa Sinclair

EquineClarity.com

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

(Thank you John Sinclair for the beautiful photographs in this weeks blog.)

Shut down or overwhelmed?

The Project:

One Mustang directly off the range

One trainer

No tools

Just body language

The Goal:

To discover how far Equestrian Art can be developed solely using body language.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Shut down or overwhelmed? 

When any of us are shut down or overwhelmed, the space between can seem as narrow as a tightrope and balancing in that calm seems beyond any realm of possibility.

So I want to talk about this side and the other side of the space between.

It’s not wrong to shut down, and it’s not wrong to get overwhelmed and propelled into action; it just doesn’t feel as good as the space between.

The best way I know to find that space between is to have a friend. Yes one can be friends with one’s self, but it is awfully nice to have a friend next to you to help you find your center. On a good day we are friends to our horses, helping them find their center. On a less than good day…. a shove is as good a boost?

People love community, and horses love their herd. The friends around us keep us interested, and push us to grow and develop our emotional fitness as the natural chaos of community can often be overwhelming.

As anyone who has ever been married can tell you, the closer your friends, the more overwhelming they can be; and you wonder why they would choose to hurt you instead of help you? A shove is as good as a boost perhaps?

A brilliant riding instructor once told me abuse only comes when we don’t know what else to do. It is the same for both horses and people. Horses kick and bite when they don’t know what else to do, when they feel alone with no friends and know no way to feel better. When they can’t find the space between, the only choices they can see are to take action- to drive away or flee from anything overwhelming. Fight or flight. Or, if neither fight nor flight seem viable, shut down is all that is left.

So what do we do when the space between cannot be found? What do we do when our horse is angry, or scared, or shut down?

All we can do at that point is be their friend, showing them that we are indeed a friend over and over and again until they believe us.

How, you ask? Approach and retreat is the best way I know. There are many ways to use approach and retreat; however, the basis is always the same- get closer and pull away, only to get closer again, and then pull away again. Getting closer lets the horse know they are not alone and you are their friend; pulling away lets them know you understand they feel overwhelmed and you don’t intend to make it worse. ( This is another way to understand balancing the drive and the draw.)

Even if a horse is shut down or disinterested, the same principles apply. Sometimes just the simplicity of being near them, aware of breathing in and out, is an advance and retreat of intense subtlety. Each breath brings you ever so slightly closer and then farther from them. Closer letting them know they are important to you; farther letting them know you understand they feel overwhelmed.

So when do we use advance and retreat in a big way, and when do we use it in a small way? Usually the rule of thumb is: when the horse feels dominant (anger or bored disinterest) we need to be a playful and provocative friend with big movements in and out of their space. When the horse is feeling lack of confidence (fear or shut down), we need to get quieter, smaller, and gently understanding in our advance and retreat.

What next?

As soon as you see the horse get a glimpse of what feeling good is like, as soon as the horse knows what the space between feels like for a moment, the most important thing in the world is to be still together. Let the horse enjoy what felt so incomprehensible moments ago- the ears forward, the deep breaths, yawns and signs of comfort are the greatest gift you can give a horse. If your horse can associate you with helping him feel better when he doesn’t know how, that bonds you together like nothing else.

We get to be both the cause of overwhelmed or shut down, and the solution. The closer we stay to the space between, the more functional is our relationship with our horse. There is a sense of flow in relationship as there is in anything else. Csikszentmihalyi’s chart is applicable here as well.

Today, working in the pouring rain with Myrnah, I found myself wondering, Why do I ask her to do these silly things that make her uncomfortable? Why do I get on and off her back repeatedly even when I can see her lack of confidence in the shake of her head and the tension in her neck? Why do I ask her to step up on a box when she never has before and doesn’t really need to? Why is that conversation important?

The tasks themselves are not important; however the tasks create pressure. Pressure causes growth, and, when the pressure is too much for Myrnah, I get to play advance and retreat until she finds her center again. I get to show her I am her friend and I will help her feel good again, no matter how much pressure she feels.

Today, beneath the drenching clouds and standing in the puddles, I didn’t really think Myrnah would step up on that silly platform. No halter, no rope, no stick, no treats… Nonetheless, the conversation was fascinating. Sometimes we worked in the sweet spot of flow, and she was interested in me and the box; sometimes I pushed too hard, and she marched off angry and alone. I would follow, playing advance and retreat until she felt like I was a friend again. Then we would re-approach and converse about the silly platform. When finally she did step up, calm as could be, I couldn’t wipe the grin from my face. She wasn’t forced into that action, she had plenty of exits, yet she chose it because I asked, and the look on her face was neither shut down nor overwhelmed. She was firmly in the space between. Happy to be quiet and still with me, enjoying life completely.

Happy New Year,

May you always find the space between.

Elsa Sinclair

EquineClarity.com

Positivity in Community

The Project:

One Mustang directly off the range, One trainer, No tools, Just body language

The Goal:

To discover how far Equestrian Art can be developed solely using body language.

Positivity in Community

The wet Northwest weather has finally driven us to the wintertime necessity of pulling the horses off the pastures and into paddocks of drier footing. Our summertime pastures are about a mile down the road from my house. The winter paddocks are close, tucked up all around my home, so with this move came a whole new learning opportunity for Myrnah and Cleo: positivity in community.

Myrnah and Cleo still have their own paddock, at least for the moment. The biggest change for them is the level of chaos around. Five of the most exuberant, gleeful, and energetic kids (my daily students) are now part of the Mustang’s regular environment. As the girls run, jump, laugh, and play in and amongst their five very patient horses, Cleo and Myrnah watch on in what seems like fascination and disbelief. The girls adore the mustangs and are good at being quiet when interacting directly with them. However, when the girls are with their own horses being loud and fun, I think it is just wonderful for Myrnah and Cleo to see all that commotion quietly accepted to by the other horses.

The first day the additional horses had made their home at Sanctuary Lane, I took Myrnah out for a walk. Interestingly, she did not want to go see the other horses at all. We played advance and retreat, walking back and forth to and fro, until she worked up the courage to get just a little curious- just curious enough to stand and stare at them where they were resting in the woods at the end of our short driveway. In between long rests for Myrnah’s courage to build, we would weave left and right slowly making our way down the drive two steps at a time. When we got to where the horses were grouped under the trees we just stood across the fence from them, everyone looking at everyone. Turning around to retreat toward the home paddock seemed a great relief for Myrnah that day. I am continually amazed that Myrnah and I can do all this with no halter or rope, no stick, and no treats- only the body language between us necessary.

Myrnah is only three, and when I watched her with her wild herd in Oregon she seemed fairly low in the hierarchy. Obviously a new herd is a little intimidating for her and is something we will work up to slowly.

Cleo is definitely the higher strung of the two Mustangs, and had all the same hesitations walking out to where the new herd was gathered. With her energy, much higher than Myrnah’s, rippling around her her like a force field, I find I am reassured by the halter and rope connection between us. When we got to the other horses, Cleo lost all her reserve showing how much more social she is. She wanted to plunge right over to the new horses and say hi nose to nose. There was an electric wire between us and them, so I kept her a little ways away in spite of her positivity. I was glad to see it none the less.

The following day after lessons were over, the kids and the chaos gone for the day, I gathered my beautiful black Mustang mare, Saavedra, from her paddock and brought her over to meet Myrnah and Cleo. The wonderful thing about Saavedra is her complete trust in my leadership around other horses. When I am with her, there is never an ear laid back, or any sort of threat. She is quiet and easy and relaxed no matter what other horses we encounter. My goal is to impress upon Myrnah and Cleo that this is the kind of behavior expected around humans. They may play whatever dominance games they choose out in the far reaches of the field, however, when humans are close, all dominance games and aggression must be put aside allowing the humans to take leadership.

Saavedra was perfectly wonderful as Cleo came right up to sniff noses, then spun for a kick.. I stepped in with a yell before she had a chance, and off she ran. Myrnah came and said hi and then pinned her ears and went for a charge, teeth bared. I stepped in again and sent her away. Saavedra played her part perfectly: interested, friendly, and simply moving quietly out of the way as the other mares figured out the rules with me.

We then followed them walking around the paddock for a while, allowing them to lead us where they would, Saavedra and I taking a submissive following role and asking to be accepted into their herd. When they stood still, we just stood with them, close enough to be part of the herd, quiet enough they didn’t feel like we were trying to drive them. Eventually Myrnah came over and very positively and gently sniffed noses with Saavedra. Then she stood with us for a moment before she wandered off to eat some hay. Cleo was not so brave; she had been yelled at by me once and wasn’t going to risk it again. We could rest somewhat close to her, but it is going to take some time before she gets brave enough to come over to Saavedra and me again. I am OK with that; I would rather she be more hesitant than aggressive if I have to pick one side of the spectrum.

This process of developing positivity in community is one that takes some time, but is priceless when it comes to ease of coexisting- horses and people together. Saavedra and I will continue to visit with Myrnah and Cleo often. Over time they will understand how socializing around people works, and then I will introduce someone else to them- perhaps a horse more abrasive in nature, more of a challenge to be easy around. For now, Saavedra is the best partner I could possibly have in this process.

By spring when they all go out in the big pastures together, new Mustangs included, I hope to have everyone socialized and positive in community. I do this for me, and for the safety of all the people who spend time with my horses. A part of me also hopes it influences their behavior with eachother: maybe, just maybe if the horses spend time being kind and quiet and gentle with each other around me, their need for dominance games of kicking and biting out in the field will ease and quiet.

All I want is the best for my horses, and I intend to continue learning all I can as we strive to be the best of ourselves together.

Elsa Sinclair

EquineClarity.com

Press for the Project

Two weeks after Myrnah and I began our project, a crew from the BLM came up to San Juan Island and spent some time putting together a story about us. Just posted this week! I love looking back at the beautiful simplicity of those first weeks.

Video is here:

The article is here:

http://www.blm.gov/or/nwpassage/

Elsa Sinclair

EquineClarity.com

No Boundaries – Just Trust

The Project:

One Mustang directly off the range

One trainer

No tools

Just body language

 

The Goal:

To discover how far Equestrian Art can be developed solely using body language.

 

 

 

No Boundaries – Just Trust

Myrnah and I walked out the gate and past all the fences yesterday; we have reached that point of trust in each other, and it feels amazing. We walked out of the paddock, through the front yard, and down the drive to the edge of the property: no fences between us and the rest of the world, no boundaries – just trust. Myrnah could have run away, but she didn’t. At the end of our driveway she looked longingly down the road, but acquiesced when I told her it was time to head home again- that was far enough for our fist venture beyond the fences.

Trust has to be earned. All of us intrinsically need to feel safe. When Myrnah and Cleo first came home with me, trust was built between us in small incremental steps. As a human I am a natural predator; horses are natural prey animals and as such we have very different instincts. Prey animals have a tendency to run from fear; predators have a tendency to attack and control when faced with fear. If we are going to work together, we have to build trust in a way that allows us to act like partners instead of predators and prey.

Boundaries such as ropes or fences help us predators feel in control of prey animals; the lack of boundaries makes a horse feel safer, because they can run if they need to.

Living as I do in a small island community where horses would not be welcome wandering free wherever they chose, I have to use fences to control them. It is a very predator-type thing to do, so I have done my best to make the paddock as big as possible and always give them room to run away from me when we are working together.

In the beginning we had six-foot-high fences. Once the trust between us had built to a point that lowered the intensity of their desire to flee, we moved things around and the fences are closer to four feet now. A little while later the horses trusted us enough to stay in enclosures of a single electric line.

If the fear is high enough, horses will jump or run through almost anything. If a human’s fear is high enough, we will enclose and abuse horses in an effort to feel safe around them. Written like that it seems rather obvious neither tactic is in the best interest of a functioning partnership. Yet going against our natural instincts is a constant challenge.

Trust is built with time and understanding. The ability to make requests of each other and have those requests honored is what builds trust.

Simple things illustrate this well. Humans like to pet animals. Horses don’t naturally like being petted (though domestic horses often do because they have been taught). A wild mustang enjoys being groomed by a partner, but being petted by a not entirely trusted predator is different.

For a partnership to develop, the human can request permission to pet the horse and, if allowed, respect when the horse requests the petting action to stop. Now if the horse reaches out with their nose and asks the person to stop and the request is ignored, the horse resorts to instinct and walks away. This is a very quiet example of distrust instead of partnership. In order for trust to build, requests have to be heard and honored between partners.

That is a great deal harder than it sounds. As people we like petting and it is hard for us to remember horses may be asking for something different. The next time a horse moves away from you, ask yourself what might the horse have wanted? What was he asking for that you didn’t hear? Sometimes the horse is asking that you follow when they walk away, because being together like a herd feels safe. Usually though, I find they are first asking us to be quiet. Just exist and be quiet together. As the saying goes, “be a human being, not a human doing”.

As a human, when a horse walks away we want to control it with a rope, or trap it with a fence, or chase it so it knows that is “wrong” or stand back and take it personally that the horse doesn’t want to be with us. If we can think like a horse though and follow, playing with advance and retreat as a game like a horse would, until the trust is built on understanding the horse’s request for a herd in that moment, then we are back on track to building a strong mutual trust, and it’s our turn to make a request. Asking the horse to move, or asking him to let us pet him, the important part is to listen for when he thinks it is his turn to ask us for something.

Mutual respect of requests is the basis for mutual trust.

So when Myrnah and I began to go out walking, we started with a boundary of high fences. If the fledgling trust between us should have plummeted in its first flights, the boundary fence would have kept us together somewhat. I aimed for a balance: fences intact to keep my predator instinct feeling safe, fences far enough away to allow Myrnah her prey animal instinct to flee should she need it.

As time moved on and the trust grew, the boundary fences became smaller and farther way. Yesterday our trust allowed us to let go of the boundary altogether for a short period of time. The freedom of knowing there were no fences to catch Myrnah if she ran was simply exhilarating. Although we are so bonded now, that I never doubted her. I think she and I agree, exploring the world is most fun, with someone you trust.

No boundaries – just trust – is an ever evolving concept. Yesterday was just a milestone along the way. Here is to the many more ahead of us.

Elsa Sinclair

EquineClarity.com

Fear and Curiosity

The Project:

One Mustang directly off the range, One trainer, No tools, Just body language

The Goal:

To discover how far Equestrian Art can be developed solely using body language.

Fear and Curiosity

The dictionary describes Curiosity as “a strong desire to know or learn something.” Fear is described as “an unpleasant emotion caused by the belief that someone or something is dangerous, likely to cause pain, or a threat.” I would like to present the idea that a highly functioning individual will have a tendency to tackle fears with curiosity, leading them to learn about the subject until it no longer causes unpleasant emotion. Fear and Curiosity may well be linked in a beautiful cause and effect. While fear is an emotion most would rather avoid, curiosity is one of the most enjoyable emotions to be experienced.

While I was with Myrnah today the wind was whipping wildly, trees violently throwing themselves in every direction, leaves and branches swirling, crashing, and falling gracelessly to the ground. I felt like a mad woman to be out working with my horses regardless of the weather, yet there we were.

We took our work out into the front yard today. The tarp on the large stack of firewood was flapping on one side, the cat chose to accompany us hither and yon, and the noise of stormy weather was often disconcerting. I was impressed that Myrnah chose to come out the gate with me none the less.

I put my hand on her withers and told her to lead the way, take me wherever she would like to go. Today was about exploring. Today was about confidence, curiosity and bravery.

Through the narrow gap between the porch and the house where Myrnah tends to scoot past at the trot, every few steps I would ask her to back a step and wait. Giving her thinking brain a chance to work and her flight instincts a chance to settle. Then on we would go. Success! For the first time we made it all the way past the car with no panic and flight from claustrophobia. Causing her to back up a step gave her a moment to look left and right, to be curious about the tight space, the car and the porch, instead of simply running from it.

In that situation Myrnah’s fear is high and curiosity is a weak fledgling emotion, so I didn’t ask her to stand any longer than she chose to. The back-up merely reminded her that curiosity was an option. When she chose to look hard at her surroundings, ears pricked and neck arched, I was still and quiet, breathing deep and relaxed as I allowed and supported her desire to understand the tight space. We stood still together until she was ready to move again, then we would repeat it all a few steps later.

Working with a young horse in particular, the world is new, experiences are all fresh, and fear and curiosity hang in a balance. While Myrnah seems like an old soul at times, and appears more mature than domestic horses her age, I want to remember, she is only three-years old. The time I invest now, fostering and developing her curiosity while allowing the reflexive patterns of fear to weaken and fade away is worth the investment a hundred times over.

So when she chooses to take me out on a walk, around the front yard, and into the woods we have never traveled through before, between the car and porch, between the bin full of hoses and shed full of hay racks, past the flapping tarp, while leaving her companion Cleo behind and out of sight on the other side of the house- just Myrnah and I exploring the world together. When this exploration causes Myrnah to stop short, ears pricked, body tight, eyes hard and focused, I stop with her and just breathe. That is the moment when curiosity and fear are in a battle: fear says it is too dangerous to go on, curiosity wants to pay attention and focus in to understand the world.

If I rush the moment, pushing Myrnah on, she may be brave and lean on my confidence, but I rob her of the moment to build her own curiosity and self-confidence. If I wait, Myrnah’s curiosity will bloom, and each time it does her self-confidence in the world around her will become a little stronger.

Yes, sometimes I want to be impatient and just get a horse going, and sometimes it is a useful skill for the horse to lean on their rider’s confidence instead of needing their own in a particular moment. Right now, in this project, with Myrnah so young and so much life ahead of her, I prefer to invest the time- no rush. On a day like today, every time a tarp flaps, or the cat runs by, or a branch crashes to the ground in the woods, I choose to use those moments to be still as I watch fear develop into curiosity for Myrnah.

The key is the willingness to be still and pay attention. Curiosity will bloom if you give it the time and the focus.

All of Myrnah’s basic skills with me continue to progress, going forward and backward, yielding the forehand, and even yielding the hind-end. All those basic skills can often help build curiosity. Fear leads to flight, so when I feel Myrnah pulling away from something- to flee from what she doesn’t understand- I can suggest a turn, or a back up to give her a moment to realize she has a choice. She can choose to learn, or she can choose to run. Both are valid; learning is just more fun than fear.

If I can help Myrnah know she has a choice and build her habits of curiosity instead of fear, I feel I have done well. Everything we do together is only better on a basis of self-confidence.

To wind and wild weather, to fear and curiosity, and to the quiet moments that allow us to become the best of ourselves.

 

Elsa Sinclair

EquineClarity.com

Specificity and skipped steps

The Project:

One Mustang directly off the range, One trainer, No tools, Just body language

The Goal:

To discover how far Equestrian Art can be developed solely using body language.

 

Specificity and skipped steps

 

It seems Myrnah and I have reached a step in the process that is not as graceful as all the previous steps have been. Specificity is proving to be more difficult for us than anything we have done yet. I don’t know if I am excited by the challenge, or disappointed in myself for not setting up the course of learning better. A little of both I think.

 

Last week was all about traveling together, developing our ease and relaxation in movement. Myrnah more or less got to choose where we traveled; I just asked her to keep moving. Everything Myrnah and I have done together so far has had a large element of choice on her part. If I wanted to trim her hooves, I let her decide where she wanted to stand to have them done; and, if she changed her mind, I picked up my trimming tools, followed her to the new spot, and started again. If I asked her to turn, I wasn’t too particular about where we were headed so long as she yielded the direction asked. If I asked her to back up and she turned around in the process, that was fine too, so long as she stepped back for me. We were building a basis of communication, and I wanted all the pieces to feel easy. Little by little she became more accurate in her responses and I was thrilled.

This week I set up a pattern to build specificity. Walking together, rest in movement, the gate open between the woods and the arena, Myrnah could take me wherever she liked. New addition to the game: I added a couple of tires, double-stacked in the arena. If Myrnah was interested in investigating them, we could stop and rest there; everywhere else we needed to keep moving.

 

The idea is to teach Myrnah to sidle up to something (like a stack of tires) to let me get on. The first step in that is to get her to be interested in something tall that I can stand on. It worked like a charm and pretty soon those tires were like a magnet- the only place she wanted to be.

 

From the first step of investigating the tires to get a rest from perpetual movement, we built to my standing on the tires while we both took a break. Then on Wednesday I started getting specific; Myrnah needed to put her side to the tires before we could both relax. As soon as she was in position, I would sit down and take some time to just be still with her.

 

Getting Myrnah in exactly the right spot beside the tires was challenging for her. Anything so specific is new to us, and she didn’t want to do it. While I was happy to give it up and go walking instead, she didn’t want to do that either. She wanted to just rest at the tires in any position she chose, and so Myrnah started pinning her ears at me.

 

This is where I think there is a balance to be struck. “Confidence-in-one’s-self” and “confidence-in-others” need to be in balance. Myrnah has a great deal of natural self-confidence. When her confidence in me is lacking, it is easy for her to start being angry. Wednesday she had a perfectly good idea of what we should do together: (standing relaxed at the stacked tires) My idea of alternating walking and standing at a specific spot next to the tires seemed like a terrible idea to her. Too much confidence in herself and not enough in me lead to some angry gestures.

 

I am generally intolerant of anger, so I jumped right on it, and thought, what do I do with my other horses to build their confidence in leadership? I work on our yields: front-end, back-end, and sideways. Myrnah’s front-end yields are soft and easy; her back-end yields are relatively undeveloped. Back-end yields are something I kept putting off until our bond felt stronger. Well obviously here was a gap in her education and a missed step in the process.

 

What happened when I went to push her hind end away from me Wednesday? She told me NO. I pushed harder and she showed me she had feet to kick me with… hmmm, pushing harder obviously wasn’t going to get me anywhere I wanted to go. (and yes I was thinking all this would be so much easier if I had rope right now and could just make her do it).

 

So take a deep breath and break it down. We take a walk and then I play with gently putting my hand at the back of her belly to suggest she just look toward me with her nose. If her nose tips toward me, her hip will at least energetically yield, even if it isn’t physically apparent. The problem is she won’t even do that.  On this day a hand on the side of her belly puts Myrnah into a strong opposition reflex, sending me running out of the kick zone. So I yell and jump up and down and clap my hands and run in circles driving her nose away from me until she looks at me with curiosity, and comes back with her ears forward. Then I sit on the ground, breathing hard, and wishing I hadn’t put off this step in the training. Breath caught, we try it again.

 

Sometimes, if I get my tact just right her nose comes toward me when I place a hand on the back of her belly, and I quickly reward that by moving my hand onto her withers and simply walking with her. Sometimes my tact is off, (or hers is), and I get the opposition of her hind end suddenly thrown in my direction; then I have to resort to acting like a crazy person, running around, moving her front end away from me until she musters up the positivity to look at me and ask what in the world I am doing, and wouldn’t it be nicer if we both stopped and just hung out together. ( I always say yes to that)

 

A horse’s confidence in others is based on their respect and their respect is based on their willingness to yield physical space. Willingness equals a positive attitude. When Myrnah started showing aggression, I knew her confidences were getting out of balance and we needed to build a little more respect and confidence in me, her person, and hopefully her leader.

 

I wish I had spent more time teaching her to yield her hind end earlier in the game. Without rope or stick I wasn’t sure I could, but now I see it is a critical piece that is fundamental to later progress.

 

On the up side, Myrnah’s extreme opposition prompted my own desperate measures, which caused her to look at me in a new and curious frame of mind. Her ear pinning seems to be melting away, her specificity of standing exactly at the mounting block has improved dramatically, and her offers of focus, arc and softness in her body while we walk together are so beautiful they make me want to cry.

So thank you to the exercise of specificity for showing me our missed step in the process. I love everything I am learning through this, even if I don’t always get it right the first time.

Elsa Sinclair

EquineClarity.com

The Fear of Losing Control

The Project:

One Mustang directly off the range, One trainer, No tools, Just body language

The Goal:

To discover how far Equestrian Art can be developed solely using body language.

The Fear of Losing Control

The beautiful thing about training Myrnah as I am, using no tools of force, is my illusions of control are limited right from the start. I recognize that I cannot control her any more than I do at any given moment because I have no tools to force her to obedience. Whatever leadership I have in this partnership I have to earn. If she is not willing to give me control of her direction or speed, I have to break the training down to the simplest pieces, developing her trust enough that she feels content to have me in the leadership role.

If I walk through this relationship knowing she has full right to take back control of her speed and direction at any time two things happen: One, I take care to develop strong habitual patterns of her following my leadership, never challenging her so much that she loses trust. Two, I am less likely to be scared of losing control when I accept I only deserve whatever control she feels safe enough to give me. I can’t be afraid of losing something I know is only on loan so long as she trusts me.

Without tools to force Myrnah into situations she would choose to avoid, I believe we will ultimately feel more reliably and consistently safe than the usual horse and rider partnership. Before we take that walk out into the woods, both of us have to agree it is a good idea. Once we have agreed, there is less likelihood that fear will interrupt our progress.

From my observations, both people and horses get into trouble when they think they deserve to have more control of a situation than they actually have. As a rider I expect to be able to go, stop and turn my horse, at any time. A horse often thinks pretty much the same thing about their rider. The art of training a horse, develops the horses desire to be part of a team. Horses need to learn to give up their control without fear of being unsafe. People need to learn to develop control of the horse without causing fear in either their horse or themselves.

As soon as fear steps into the game rationality starts fading away. If I give up my control of a situation, will I still be safe? Will I get hurt? Can I trust someone else to make the decisions for me in this situation? If I think anything bad might happen, there is no way I want to give up my control of speed and direction, neither does the horse. We are at an impasse, using more and more force to try to gain enough control in the partnership to feel safe.

So last week I wrote about what Myrnah and I do when we reach an impasse. I am happy to report it is going beautifully. Little by little she is allowing me more and more control of speed and direction on our walks through the woods. She is once again willing to put up with the boredom of having her feet handled and trimmed, trusting me to get through it and move on to something more fun soon. That trust is something we have to keep building and honing to a useful point.

Myrnah has to trust me that boredom and claustrophobia don’t last forever, she has to trust me that I will have more interesting things to do with her after tasks that are tedious, she has to trust me to take her away from food and know I will bring her back to food again soon. That last one is probably the hardest lesson we have together. Coming from a place of being pregnant where food was scarce it is hard for her to trust me there will always be enough even if she can’t consume it right away. Yet proving that to her again and again I feel is a powerful tool to bond us together.

Myrnah and I are making such simple slow and steady progress I find I am amazed to think we may be ready to ride sometime in the next few weeks. Her back is starting to look more muscled, and she trusts me enough to let me jump up with my arms braced on the other side of her withers, holding myself there, feet hanging a foot off the ground for a few seconds before I slide back down to earth.

I dream of galloping flat out with Myrnah through the pastures, baby alongside us, her trust in me allowing enough control that we both feel safe. I don’t know how long it will take to build that sort of relationship, but I do know I want to find out.

One Horse, One Trainer, One Year, No Tools, how far can we get? Is it possible for us to train together without fear of losing control?

Here’s to finding out.

Elsa Sinclair

EquineClarity.com