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Tag Archives: fear

Step for Step, Breath for Breath

The Project:

One Mustang directly off the range, One Trainer, Many Students, Communication through body language, Tools used only for safety, never to train

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The Goal:

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

Step for Step, Breath for Breath

 

This is my favorite part of being with horses, that time when we move as one being. Time and space enveloping and embracing us like a single being instead of two. This is the time I feel least alone in my life, and I find I crave this like nothing else.

 

Honestly, the faster we can go in this unity, the happier I am. The more energy I can feel flowing through us the better. At one point I thought it would be so much fun to be an exercise jockey for race horses. When I spoke about this in a dreamy youthful way to my trainer at the time, she asked me if I liked the shape of my nose? Hmmmm, yes? Why? Because, she explained, jockeys have a tendency to have their noses broken by young horses throwing their heads up and smashing their riders in the face with the tops of their heads.

 

And then my dream came crashing down to reality. Those young racehorses were not doing something they were comfortable doing, those young horses were being pushed to the point that they hurt people in their anxiety. That was a world I wanted no part of.

 

I crave unity. I crave the feeling of moving in harmony, step for step, breath for breath, to whatever degree of intensity I can find that still allows everyone to feel safe and comfortable.

 

I think horses crave this too.

 

When intensity comes at the cost of someone’s comfort though, that’s when beings start hurting each other. A line gets crossed from fun into anxiety, and how do anyone of us set a boundary before someone gets hurt? What is OK and what is not OK?

 

Here is where the subject becomes touchy.

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Leadership vs Friendship.

 

We all want to be our horse’s best friend. Those of us who want to work positively with our horses cringe a little at what we know gets done to horses in the name of “Leadership”.

 

This I believe was actually my biggest failure in my ongoing project with Myrnah. Yes the project was a huge success on the whole, but moving forward, this is the piece I would do better.

 

I don’t like asking for anything that might be answered “no”. The vulnerability of that position makes me feel the separateness of our beings in a painful way, when all I want is unity and harmony.

 

If you give me the right tool – bridle, whip, spur, carrot or grain pan – I can set the situation up so I am much more confident in getting a “yes” answer from my horse and unity stays intact.

 

If you take away all my tools (including food rewards), The probability of my horse saying “no” when I want to do something gets really high and actually frightening for me.

 

Here is the thing I do when I am frightened: I stop taking risks. Instead of asking for things, I just exist in whatever harmony I can find. If Myrnah wants to stand still, we stand still together for hours; if Myrnah wants to walk around, we walk around together; if she wants to drink water, we splash in the water trough together; if she wants to eat grass, I move with her from bite to bite in harmony and ease. If she wants to move faster than I am comfortable with, I get off and give her space. All of this is beautiful friendship, but it is not leadership.

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I find, after long days of working to be a good leader for my students and their horses, all I want from Myrnah is friendship. Step for step, breath for breath. I don’t want to be vulnerable anymore; I don’t want to practice being a leader; I don’t want to risk asking for things that she might say “no” to.

 

A great deal of time spent building friendship means Myrnah and I love being around each other; I think that time might be some of the best moments of our day. We crave each other’s company, and that is good!

 

I also find, when I don’t practice leadership with her, she becomes much less steady.

 

A leader is someone you trust. A friend is someone you like being with. The two, being a good friend and being a good leader, are separate skills.

 

When you have a leader and you have trust, you can do more things; you can step out of your comfort zone more. You find random events in life don’t frighten you as much because you have someone you can trust at your side.

 

I believe I have spent much more time with Myrnah building friendship than I have leadership, particularly in the years since filming the movie. The downfall of too much friendship and not enough leadership is over emotionality and sharp boundaries.

 

During the times I have been practicing being a better leader, I find Myrnah is more willing to try things and be positive about new experiences. I find she is less afraid of strange noises and shapes moving in the distance.

 

When I am a better leader I find she is more relaxed and adaptable.

 

So what does practicing leadership look like? It looks like setting goals that require you to take actions that might get “no” answers.

 

Good leaders find the space between failure and success, the space between yes and no answers, and take the risk to ask.

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Good friends spend time enjoying each other’s company without asking much at all.

 

Bad leaders ask a lot of questions with “no” answers. Bad leaders ask for too much too soon.

 

Good leaders don’t ask for too much, but they do dare to ask. Asking for things is what creates a leader. Asking for things builds trust. Asking for things builds stronger bonds and makes everyone feel safer.

 

I may crave step for step and breath for breath, I may crave harmony and unity and I may get all those things in friendship with Myrnah.

 

When intensity finds Myrnah and me, like the night a coyote appeared all of a sudden on the dark path in front of us and we found our hearts pounding in unison, flooding us with adrenaline, and putting us on edge, that was a moment I was glad for every bit of leadership I had ever practiced. We could face it calmly and wait for it to go on its way, even though we were out of our comfort zone.

 

Our boundary with the coyote was adaptable; there was no need to turn and bolt into the darkness away from it, but I could feel Myrnah wanting to. I could trust her to hold her ground and wait out the discomfort, but only barely. Those are the moments I vow to spend a little more of my time asking for things and being a good leader, and maybe a little less time just being with her as a good friend.

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Here is to finding the balance – friendship and leadership.

 

Elsa Sinclair

EquineClarity.com

TamingWild.com

Showing up

The Project:

One Mustang directly off the range, One Trainer, Many Students, Communication through body language, Tools used only for safety, never to train

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The Goal:

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

 

Showing up

 

What is this thing I do with Myrnah? Is it a method of training? Is it a form of meditation? Is it for my benefit? Is it for her benefit? Why take away all the tools and all the bribes? What is the point behind doing everything differently?

 

I will tell you, for me the magic is in the mundane. When I show up to spend time with Myrnah I know she gets to be who she is, and the things I do have very little power to change her. The things we do together develop US together, and very slowly over time entrain us to be better partners for each other.

 

Tom Dorrance said it perfectly:

“First you go with the horse. Then the horse goes with you. Then you go together.” –

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It is the same things I do with Myrnah that everyone does with their horse. We move forward, backward, left and right, sometimes more together, and sometimes less together. It is the attention and persistence toward partnership, that is what this is about.

 

If we think of this as a training method, we have to accept that without tools or bribes there is a great deal more of

“First you go with the horse.”

than most people are truly comfortable with. That is perhaps what makes this more of a form of meditation than a training method.

 

Is this thing Myrnah and I do together for my benefit or for hers? How does one even quantify a benefit? Are we happier for this way of existing together?

 

I find those questions really difficult to answer. I believe we are happier, but at the same time we are often more frustrated, and at the same time we are more peaceful together, and we are also more at odds with each other at times. The answers are as complicated as the questions.

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We get to show up and feel more of everything together. We get to show up for each other regardless of how it feels, good or bad.

 

Showing up and feeling what we feel from moment to moment together, that is the work.

 

On one particular day at the beach Myrnah was tired from traveling; I wanted to ride and she did not. If I had some tools or bribes, I could have quickly won her over to my way of thinking, getting us efficiently to Tom Dorrance’s final idea: “Then you go together.” –

 

I find, though, there is a whole world of getting to know each other in deep and profound ways that we pass right over when we rush to the end.

 

“First you go with the horse.”

allows you to ask what the horse wants.

 

And then there is a dance where you ask the horse to go with your idea for a moment, which is the second part: “Then the horse goes with you”.

 

In our linear, human way of thinking we tend to want the third part to happen directly: “Then you go together”. –

 

 

I will tell you, training methods have been developed with tools and bribes to get us there fairly efficiently. What I do is different, and it requires that I show up willing to dance the first part of the dance for as long as it takes to get us to: “Then you go together.” –

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It is not easier, it is not faster, I am really not even sure it is better. But what I can tell you is, it is a richer experience with a horse than any I have had before.

 

The depth of connection Myrnah and I have together is more fulfilling than anything I have ever known and that makes it worth it.

 

You get out what you put in though, so, on that day that Myrnah was tired from traveling and I really wanted to ride when she didn’t, four hours later she was ready to give me a short ride.

 

Those four hours consisted of walking and stopping and turning and, for a while, lying down together to take a nap. My job was to show up and follow her, and then ask her to follow me, and then follow her some more.

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This experience is about showing up and being who we are together, even if our wants do not always line up right away. It is humbling and beautiful to show up with a will to align and work together, and a total acceptance that it will take the time it takes.

 

One day at the beach we were walking through the dunes and crossed a section of the path where there was some bear scat. Shortly after that we saw two people walking through the grass off in the distance. Those shapes moving against the backdrop of the yellow dunes combined with the smells to put Myrnah on alert- meant we were no longer walking to the beach on my time frame. She felt she needed to watch those shapes moving though the distant grass with total devotion, which meant, if I was “following the horse”, I needed to watch them too.

 

From time to time I could ask her to take a few more steps toward the beach with me, and then we would watch some more. It was a very long time before we made it all the way to the ocean together. Feeling her fear, feeling my frustration, all of that was part of showing up that day, and the payoff is how much deeper our relationship is for the chance to experience it together.

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I had other horses with me at the beach this past week. I had tools and rewards to help get us to the end goal of working together. We had wonderful rides, and I loved every moment I spent with them.

 

The work I do with Myrnah though…. It really is deeper and richer and ultimately more satisfying that any work I have ever done with a horse.

 

Myrnah and I may have started off together with a simple challenge, to find out if this way of working together is even a possible or viable training method, but along the way we found gold in the day-to-day process.

 

The personal value of a relationship this deep and rich from moment to moment is a worth above and beyond any end result we could ever achieve.

 

Elsa SinclairIMG_1077

EquineClarity.com

TamingWild.com

Sitting on the Edge

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.

 

 

Sitting on the Edge

 

Buffeting winds, snow storms, and rain coming in sideways… indeed, here we are in March. With the elements at extremes this week, Myrnah and I found ourselves sitting on the edge of comfort as we rode together. The new wide-open pastures, herd mates to keep an eye on, and weather to brace oneself against have all lent an exciting edge to our practice.

 

Myrnah is settling into her new home flawlessly; from watching her go out in the pasture every morning to watching her saunter in again every evening, she seems the picture of relaxed contentment, completely at ease with all her new horse friends. I find myself wishing I had done all my training in such an open, natural, herd-based situation. Yet the weather I mentioned above has left the ground a sopping-wet, squishy, squelching mess to walk around in, reminding me why we pull horses into the dry paddocks for the winter months. So Myrnah and I tread lightly, pretending we are just kids playing in mud puddles, and trust that summer is indeed just around the corner.

 

After her move, I gave Myrnah a couple of days adjustment time in her new space, asking very little as she got used to her new surroundings. Come Monday it was time to get back to work, regardless of the wind. Walking around the puddled grass paddocks, side by side, practicing our turns and stops, backups, and transitions of speed gave me a chance to assess Myrnah in her new space. What I found was my seemingly perfectly adjusted mare was carrying a level of tension imperceptible to the casual eye. My hand resting in her fur could feel the clench of muscles and the unusual brace against requests from me. She was trying to do all I asked, yet her internal comfort was on the edge of panic. Between the new space and the weather and the life changes, Myrnah’s confidence was stretched thin.

Like a mountain climber who sits on the edge of cliffs with nonchalance the rest of us envy, Myrnah too needs to get comfortable on the edge. Her edge is more metaphorical in nature, yet it is an edge that will always be there as life throws unexpected twists and turns her way. This week, for Myrnah and me, was about sitting on the edge of comfort and getting comfortable with the added energy and uncertainty of life.

 

Monday we practiced our groundwork, and then, when I got on from an old stump in the paddock, I could feel Myrnah humming with excitement, every muscle braced for flight. I got on and off, and walked with her some more, and got on and off again. Finally, when I thought she could handle it, I stayed on. The wind was howling, and I could feel her struggling against the gusts as she balanced my weight and hers. The exercise that felt so easy the week before in the calm of the high valley paddocks now challenged Myrnah to the very edge of what she could handle. In order to get comfortable with this higher energy, she needed a way to keep lowering her internal stress, and we needed to be careful we didn’t add to it. Like a mountain climber sitting on the edge of a cliff, there was not a lot of room for error here on the edge of comfort.

 

So Monday, I suggested she just graze while I sat on her back. The calming, repetitive ripping of new green shoots gave her just enough relief from the other tensions around us that she was able to sit with me and be less than comfortable without needing to run from the feelings. For me, the feeling of her bracing against the gusts of wind as she moved one hesitant step at a time to reach the next bit of grass was completely thrilling in its own way. Every step I asked myself: Can she handle this? Can I sit on her a little longer without overwhelming her? To find the answer was yes again and again, was intensely gratifying in the simplest way.

Tuesday, we did more of the same, only this time venturing farther away from the herd to explore new spaces on the hill above. Not so much wind, but swirling white snow blizzarding around us, lent its own dizzying excitement to the adventure. The first time I asked Myrnah to walk when I was riding, I found I had pushed the edge too far and all her muscles bunched up in reaction. I jumped off as she threw a couple of little bucks, and so we did some more ground work together until her tension lowered and we were able to find a place on the edge of comfort that didn’t feel so precarious. When I got on again, we took travel one very tentative step at a time, stopping often to graze, traveling just a little, and then stopping to graze again.

 

Wednesday, we stayed closer to the herd, but found we were ready to graze less and travel more, even with me riding. When I would feel Myrnah’s muscles bunch up and stress start to overwhelm her, we would just stop and sit with it. Given time, she would take a deep breath and let me know she was ready again. It was a dance through the sideways-sleeting rain. Travel, feel the stress, back off, stop, think about it, realize it wasn’t as frightening as was thought before, and travel again: these things take time, yet have immeasurable value. The ability to push oneself to the edge of comfort and not panic increases the ability to learn, increases the day to day enjoyment of life, and lets the unexpected things that come up become fun instead of frightening.

 

All in all, I am brilliantly impressed with my three-year-old mare, Myrnah. The challenges she has faced with grace over the last couple of weeks are really quite amazing. How many horses do you know who can join a new herd in a new pasture, and then be ridden bridleless and bareback away from the herd to explore new spaces? In my experience that is asking a lot of a horse, and Myrnah has far surpassed that when you consider she is only seven months off the range, three-years old, and been ridden perhaps only ten or fifteen times in her life so far.

This mare has me sitting on the edge of comfort too. The feeling is both thrilling and calming, an intensity of focus and uncertainty, excitement and quiet reassurance from deep within, all melding into a way of being that feels beautiful beyond belief. It takes time to develop, and yet having that comfort on the edge pays dividends that make it well worth the effort.

 

So here is to wind and weather, new spaces, new horizons, and sitting on the edge of comfort until it too becomes comfortable.

 

Elsa Sinclair

EquineClarity.com

The Winds of 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.

 

 

 

The Winds of Change

My home is tucked in a valley. Between a hill to our backs and a dense forest in front of us is the most beautiful gem of garden and green. The wind hardly ever touches us here; by the time it filters down to us from the world outside, it is just a breeze kissing skin and fur with a playful caress. It is a peaceful place and has provided a perfect beginning for Myrnah and me. In keeping with our locale, the winds of change have been gentle and forgiving as we develop together.

 

This week it became time for change to blow through us a little stronger, and for the larger world to become our playground. With spring growing in strength, the green grass coming on lush, and the ground beginning to dry out, the larger pastures of Plumb Pond beckoned. It was time to move Myrnah from the dry, quiet, high ground of my home to the larger windswept pastures a mile down the road.

 

I think this has been the most apprehensive moment I have weathered yet with Myrnah. The night before the move I felt sick with worry. Was she ready to move gracefully into the larger herd of horses? Would these winds of change tear through our relationship like a storm, fraying our connection and weakening our bond? Would she feel grateful to me for bringing her to a new family in a location that feels like heaven on earth for horses, or would she fault me for changing everything she knows, and throwing her head first into an unknown herd?

 

Even the logistics of getting her to her new home felt challenging. I pulled the trailer into the top pasture where the ground was hard and dry enough to drive on. From there, as Myrnah stepped out of the trailer, we could see the current herd of four grazing the midlands below the pond on the other side of the barn. Myrnah is wary of new horses; I knew this from playing approach and retreat with the various horse paddocks at home. Her first choice is to run to a safe viewpoint and watch them from afar. To my surprise, on this windy Thursday in March, Myrnah showed an unexpected boldness. We alternately walked and stopped to watch the herd, and walked again making our way almost all the way to the barn in short order. Then Myrnah’s youth and inexperience took over and she turned around to retreat up the hill again- a safe vantage point to view the new herd from a distance. I was ready for this change of heart and simply retreated with her.

 

Over the next hour we advanced down the hill to the barn, lost confidence, and retreated back up the hill several times- more and more time for Myrnah to spend ears pricked and focused intently on the herd below. Finally the winds of change blew her confidence up a notch, and we were able to walk past the barn, over the hill by the pond, and proceed out through the electric wire gate into the field the horses were in.

 

The bald eagles called to each other above us, the Canadian geese grazed next to the pond beside us, the deer traveled the lowlands on the far edges of the pastures, and Myrnah’s new herd watched us intently as we made our way down the hill to meet them.

 

As we reached the middle of the pasture, all four of them came at us at a run as horses sometimes will. Myrnah stood the charge with her customary quietness, and I pushed the running horses to the side into a circle around us. When they ran back down to the bottom of the pasture, Myrnah and I followed quietly and gently, stopping to graze when we got close. Antheia, the beautiful grey two-year-old mustang was the first and most friendly of the herd. Coated head to toe in the fresh mud she had found to roll in, she sauntered over so say hi, first to me whom she knows and secondly to Myrnah. Myrnah, mostly interested in grazing and cautious of new horses, was reticent yet patient with Antheia’s inquisitive nature. The other three horses mostly ignored us, allowing us to tag along behind as everyone munched the new spring grass. It wasn’t long before I felt I had facilitated what I needed to for Myrnah. She was here and as confident as I could set her up to be; the rest was up to her.

All in all our herd is thirteen strong, soon to be fourteen when Myrnah’s baby is born. For the next few weeks Myrnah’s herd will grow a few at a time as we move them all from winter paddocks to summer pasture. At first, day times spent grazing and nights in paddocks adjacent to the pasture, eating dry hay all night to soften the change of diet. Little by little they will stay out more and more until they are out on grass full time. Myrnah will continue to come in every night until she foals. Once she is on full grass her nighttime lodging will be the lushest pasture of all, the pasture above the barn where all foals at Plumb Pond have had their beginnings.

 

There is a balance I am aiming for here with Myrnah: between her comfort and adjustment to her new large family on the one hand, and a quiet space for her to retreat to as she becomes a mother to the new little one.

 

It will doubtless be interesting to see how our riding and training progress with all the new changes. Wednesday, before the move, we had our best ride to date. Confidently walking all around the drive way, stopping, backing and turning on cue, Myrnah doesn’t seem to mind carrying me at all anymore, even going so far as to trot a few steps now and then when I ask. It really does feel like a gift, all that she does for me.

 

Now that the space and the herd have changed for Myrnah, we shall see how her relationship with me evolves. The winds of change blow stronger in the pastures of Plumb Pond as the herd and the space broaden Myrnah’s focus. I am thrilled to be part of the evolution and promise to keep you all posted.

 

Elsa Sinclair

EquineClarity.com

Attention

 

 

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.

 

 

 

Attention

All of us are either moving toward something we want, or away from something we don’t want. Usually it is some combination of the two that motivates us; however, if we can break it down to the simplest equation, life gets easier to understand. What are we paying attention to, and are we moving towards it, or away from it? Are we moving towards the life we want? Or are we running from the life we are afraid of?

This past weekend I attended a workshop put on by a mounted policeman, Bill Richey. Two days of smoke bombs, flares, lines of fire, hanging plastic, bridges, barking dogs, police cars, sirens and lights. I had intended to ride my mustang, Saavedra, through all this; however, she hurt herself a few weeks beforehand and left me without a ride. Several people jokingly suggested I take Myrnah and I laughed saying, maybe next year.

This time around my dear friend, Heather, jumped at the chance to send her four-year-old Gypsy horse Sage through the course with me. So Friday we loaded up the trailer with Cameron’s horse, Maharrah, Maggie’s horse, Joy, Sage as my mount, and we were off to Butler Hill Equestrian Center. For any of you interested there will be more of these clinics offered at Butler Hill. They do a wonderful job of putting them on, and everyone walks out of the clinic far more confident in day to day life than they arrived.

Throughout the workshop I had a great deal of time to watch and think about how things work. Sage, true to his Gypsy lineage, is a pro at handling chaos; so I got to sit back and watch the show everyone else put on as we walked through the obstacles. Starting with a simple sheet of plywood we formed a line and walked over it again and again until most everyone was OK with it. Then we added a bridge, walking around in a circle over the bridge and then over the plywood until everyone was fine with that… and so the obstacle practice continued. For the less tangible obstacles like noise, we rode drill patterns weaving in and out of the other horses, walking steadily on until the horses got used to the whistles, sirens, barking dog and so on. By day two everyone had progressed to navigating bridges with visually impenetrable smoke billowing from beneath, crossing lines of fire, and walking under hanging tarps and swinging curtains of clattering pipes.

All day I watched horses wrestling with the choice to run away or move forward where their riders asked and I came to this conclusion: a bridle is simply an attention-getting device. As you ride a horse toward an obstacle he is afraid of, his first instinct is to look for his escape route, and then run away. The bridle, depending on its severity and the horse’s willingness to have his attention directed, allows us to insist the horse pay attention to where we want him to go. If you cause enough pain, you can grab anyone’s attention, at least for a moment. Once the horse is looking in the right direction, pressure on the bridle releases, pain goes away, and the horse starts thinking perhaps the thing he was afraid of is actually less painful than the escape route he thought he wanted to take. And so, little by little, the horse learns that moving toward something his rider directs him to is far more pleasant than running away from something he thinks he might be afraid of.

We are all constantly weighing our options with more or less awareness depending on our stress levels. What feels better- what feels worse, it doesn’t have to be logical or rational. It is just that simple emotionally: we all want to feel better, and we will do whatever it takes. Horses run into burning barns because the familiarity of their stall feels better than the unfamiliar outside. People on a runaway horse will scream at the top of their lungs, not because it’s the smart thing to do, just because the scream makes them feel better.

We all do stupid things sometimes in an effort to feel better. What kind of pain, or attention-getting device would it take to redirect our attention and look at the other options? Here is what I think: the lower the stress levels, the more aware we can be about redirecting our attention. The higher the stress levels, the more pain it will take to redirect our attention. The beautiful thing about taking Sage, the Gypsy horse, through the course this past weekend was, he naturally doesn’t carry much stress. So riding him in a halter was easy. Add to that the nature of the course and the constant rhythmic walking we all did for hours on end, whatever stress was coming up was constantly being drained away. The less stressed we are carrying, the smarter we get and the clearer we can see options of where to move forward instead of panicking and running away.

So that brings me back to Myrnah and our training with no tools. If I don’t have a bridle as an attention-getting device, what will I do when she wants to go somewhere I do not want to go? What do I do when she decides something is frightening and she needs to run from it?

For now the working hypothesis is: Attention Attention Attention! I have to train her to bring her attention back to me or back to the the direction I choose over and over again. I have to train that habit in her so strongly that I don’t need pain to get it. I need to use persistence and timing to teach her to yield to the pressure of my fingertips. She needs to become patterned to yielding her attention whenever I ask, over and over and over again in low stress situations, so when stress increases in any given situation she has a pattern of behavior with me that will hopefully circumvent the need for a bridle.

This week we took our riding outside the paddocks and around the circle driveway. Slowly Myrnah’s confidence builds and she is willing to walk twelve steps instead of just seven, and then fifteen, and then more between each pause to gather her thoughts. Her deep breaths come more often, and I can feel the stress draining away as we travel together. My rides still only last for five minutes or less, but after a rest I jump on and we play again.

Wednesday we encountered a slight downhill, and as my weight shifted Myrnah lost confidence and gave a scoot and a buck. I jumped off and had her practice backing up the slight incline. Shifting her weight back will help her balance my extra weight as she carries me over terrain. If I had a bridle on her I could have quickly redirected her attention, helping her find her balance on the slope. Without a bridle and with her current stress levels about carrying weight, I didn’t have enough pressure to redirect her attention while I was on her. So I do whatever I need to do. Jump down, talk to her from a position she can hear me from, and then I can get back on to see what we can do together- after patterns of attention directing have been reestablished.

I never said this was the fastest way to train a horse, but I am without doubt learning more about how everything works through this process and Myrnah’s help. When Myrnah and I do get it right and I can get her attention with a whisper instead of a shout, every moment we spent getting there feels worth it.

So here is to redirecting attention and getting smarter as we figure out how to move forward into a life that feels better.

Elsa Sinclair

EquineClarity.com

The Beauty of Adrenaline

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 Beauty of Adrenaline

 

It was a classic Pacific Northwest day: a light and steady rain all morning followed by a pervasive mist falling from the sky for the rest of the daylight hours- a damp, yet beautiful, February day. On this particular day, Myrnah and I had an adventure planned. Sometimes, stepping outside the normal patterns can change the way you look at everything. Step too far and the change feels stressful; step just far enough and the thrill of energy that courses through your veins is intoxicating. Myrnah and I needed something new; we needed to feel the beauty of adrenaline.

 

Without tools to push development on a faster track, we have found ourselves practicing the same tasks over and over for months. Go, stop, turn, back up, walk together, trot together, get on, get off- rinse and repeat. We have often changed the location of practice in areas around our home, but have been cautious about straying into unfamiliar territory. More specifically, strange dogs and random cars in our neighborhood have been seen from a distance and that has been fun- a moment of intensity as I wonder what Myrnah will do about the stress, and she wonders if she needs to do anything at all. Then the moment passes leaving just a little extra energy in its wake.

 

This week Myrnah and I were going somewhere different: a trip in the horse trailer, her first since traveling from southern Oregon with Cleo as wild horses. Myrnah has breakfast in the trailer most days of the week (she has local hay available all the time, it is just the richer eastern Washington timothy hay that gets doled out in smaller quantities in specific locations), so getting in the trailer is nothing out of the ordinary. Driving away and leaving all her friends behind was a completely new experience however.

 

Our destination was a three-acre lot at the San Juan Country Fairgrounds. Used for parking during the fair, it remains empty for the rest of the year. A beautiful combination of woods and grass, well-fenced so encounters with cars and dogs would be limited to what we saw through the fence, it was a perfect first destination. A big thank-you goes out to the caretakers who allowed us to come use the space.

 

Margaret came up from the city to film the event, my daughter, Cameron, walked up from town after her swim lessons to see how it was all evolving, Myrnah and I were there for as long as it took to get home again- that was the thrilling part of the adventure. I really didn’t know how soon Myrnah would be willing to get back in the trailer to go home after the trip to town. I didn’t know how much this adventure would push the edges of her comfort zone. I had a feeling we were ready though.

 

Eleven-thirty on Thursday morning, Margaret pulled in the driveway, set up the video equipment, and we were ready to roll. Myrnah hopped right in the trailer for breakfast. Cleo knew something was up when I brought over one of the school horses to be in the paddock next to her for the day, and we were off.

Traveling, Myrnah did nothing but impress me as usual. She stood loose in the three-horse stock trailer with the relaxed grace I have come to appreciate so much about her. I felt her turn around a couple of times when we were stopped at a stop sign, but, other than that, she seemed to just stand quietly observing the world go by.

Once at the fairgrounds, I let her be in the trailer for a few moments while we got gates closed and the space organized. Myrnah seemed still and patient with a soft eye, licking and chewing as she watched and digested all the changes. I opened the door and she came out gently, yet so beautifully alert. There really is a beauty to adrenaline.

 

For the next hour and a half Myrnah and I alternated traveling and exploring the space together and letting her graze the grass that was far lusher and greener than anything we currently have at home. My favorite moment of the day was when I discovered she would follow me, with ears pricked forward, at the trot when I started to run. The added energy of the new location made speed feel fun for Myrnah instead of the disliked task it usually presents as at home. So we weaved through trees and ran across meadows, played with circles and stops, back-ups and the best part- grazing the green, green grass everywhere underfoot.

The interesting part of the day was when a group of children came out to play in the school yard on the other side of the fence. They were far away, yet the racket they made put Myrnah on high alert; and then, to my dismay, she took control of the situation and trotted off with me running behind until Myrnah had gotten us as far away as she could from the disturbing chaos. I have to admit I was glad for the fence that stopped her; I am not sure I am fit enough to have run as far away as she would have wanted to go. Once she felt safe enough, she reconnected to me, and, little by little, we made our way back to the center of our play area. Our bond felt tenuous after that, as though Myrnah wasn’t sure she could trust my decisions as a leader; but she didn’t distrust me either, she just held tight to her right to leave if the children or the basketball players across the field scared her too much.

For the most part we worked well together with lots of breaks to watch the players across the fence. Every once in a while though Myrnah would lead me in a fast run across the lot to the far side where she felt safer. She didn’t leave me, because I was right there with her, but it was clear she wouldn’t have stopped if I had asked, she took control of the situation and led us to safer ground.

 

After an hour and a half, the people playing in the neighboring field were not so worrisome anymore, and I decided it was time to load up and go home. Myrnah had other ideas.

 

We could approach the trailer and stand at the open door for a brief period of time, and then Myrnah would take definitive action, turning away to go somewhere else. I can stop her, and turn her and ask her to go forward, but I cannot make her do something she doesn’t want to do. She and I both know that.

 

Early on I wrote a blog: “For Every No, There Is a Yes Nearby”. Thursday, loading in the trailer, I definitely leaned on those ideas. For months I have been telling myself I would really like to spend more time walking with Myrnah. It is something horses do together and I feel we both benefit from it- traveling side by side, stride for stride, traveling miles, not just a few minutes, the rhythm and distance building the bond between us. Well, here was my chance. Walking together was the yes Myrnah was offering me; trailer loading was a no until she decided otherwise. Grazing was over for the day; there was hay and water in the trailer and until she decided to head in there, we were moving together.

So we moved. Sometimes, when Myrnah wanted to emphasize how much she didn’t want to get in the trailer, we ran away from it together. I want to practice trotting with her anyway, so it was a win-win situation. Whenever Myrnah wanted to look at the trailer, standing fairly close to it, we could rest. For an hour and a half we traveled together with only brief rests at the trailer. When we were standing there I would move forward a test step towards the trailer to see if I could walk in first to play with the hay and splash in the water bucket, but every time she would turn her head away and tell me she would rather go somewhere else than watch me walk toward the trailer. So that is what we would do, move together some more.

I have to say, about an hour into this trailer project I found myself considering all the contingency ideas: calling someone to come pick up Cameron and take her home for the night. Saying goodbye to Margret and letting go of the filming aspect of the day, bundling up in all my coats and putting on my head lamp so Myrnah and I could just keep traveling together through the dark until she was ready to load into trailer. I was there for the long haul. If Myrnah needed me to jog a marathon with her before she was ready to get in the trailer, that is what we would do. Lucky for me, just after I had figured out all my contingency plans, Myrnah decided she was ready to go home. We were standing resting, looking at the trailer, and this time, when I began to walk forward into it, she kept looking at me. I walked in and splashed in the water bucket and she quietly followed after me. She wasn’t thirsty, but did munch on a little hay. I walked out and closed the big door, reentering by the side door to sit with her, relaxing and listening to her chew before we headed home.

 

The drive home was as uneventful as the drive out had been. Myrnah was happy and relaxed as she stepped out of the trailer, perhaps just a little more alert than usual with the beauty of adrenaline still coursing through us both. Another challenge conquered, the stress proving energizing and fun, the day bonding us together just a little more.

 

Elsa Sinclair

EquineClarity.com 

 

PS The next day, Friday, Myrnah jumped right in the trailer without hesitation. Completely unscarred from the previous day’s adventure, the beauty of adrenaline seemingly all positive this time around. May we always be so lucky as we push forward into the unknown.

Five things I can count on

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.

Five things I can count on

It snowed this week, beautiful white mounds of fluffy snow adorning every surface around my house- the landscape brilliantly beautiful, and yet for me, not as much fun as one might think. Unfortunately emotions and logic don’t always dance in the sane and controllable fashion we would like them to. I can logically appreciate the beauty, yet at the same time find my emotions beating me to a pulp underneath all that beautiful sane logic. Snow and cold send me into panic attacks of vertigo and nausea, blinding anxiety, and difficulty breathing. I am however far too stubborn to let that stop me, so for the most part everything proceeds normally. I have found there are five things I can count on to help. No matter how good, or how bad I feel, these five things will always improve the situation.

Thank-you Sally Swift for creating the five basics of Centered Riding. Thank-you Stephanie Mosely for introducing me to the existence of Centered Riding; and thank-you to all the brilliant Centered Riding instructors who have helped me understand those five basics in deeper and more profound ways.

I have been exposed to, and devoted to many different models of horse training. Each model and idea has created a facet of who I am and how I train today. I would have to say though, Centered Riding remains at the core of everything I do. The principles reach far beyond riding a horse. They apply to every action in life, and within these five simple ideas lies a power to improve any moment.

  1. Grounding – The feeling of having your feet rooted down through the Earth. Sally Swift added this to her original four basics when she wrote her second book. No matter which training idea I am currently working with, taking a moment to wiggle my toes in my boots and feel my feet become grounded always lends a solid and reliable feel to whatever I am doing.
  2. Centering – The feeling of your weight down low in the core of your body, the idea of chi or qi that martial arts talks of, all action originating from the center of your body. This idea always gives me a sense of connection with my horse and that legendary “feel” between horse and rider that instructors are always saying is so essential and so hard to teach.
  3. Breathing – Deeply, using the diaphragm and letting the air fill every part of your body like a professional singer would. This is perhaps the most challenging for me, yet I know how important it is. Horses are herd creatures and are constantly assessing the well-being of those around them. My ability to breath allows me to work at my best and signals my horse that I am feeling ok- there is nothing to worry about in our herd. Constantly I remind myself and my students, when your horse does something you like, just take one deep breath before you do anything else. That deep breath and the resulting positive feeling it brings to you and your horse is the simplest and best reward you can give.
  4. Soft eyes – Using a soft balance of focus and peripheral vision. In an ideal scenario we are using our muscles in a state of release contracting muscles or extender muscles used to the degree we need them. When we use both the contractors and the extenders at the same time an unnecessary tension and stress is present. We tend to create a great deal of stress in the small muscles around our eyes… the relaxation of those muscles allows us to use our peripheral vision as well as our focus.
  5. Building Blocks – The feeling of each part of the skeleton stacked in balance on top of the piece below- using only the essential muscular effort needed to stand, sit or move, nothing extra.

All these five principles can be evolved and developed, pondered and meditated on, however they work best for me in their simplicity. They are just five words to remember, each with a profound impact on positivity in any given moment.

Grounding

Centering

Breathing

Soft Eyes

Building Blocks

So when Myrnah and I are walking through the woods in the snow, my mind tells me this should be a marvelous novelty of fun, while unfortunately, my emotions batter my skull, blur my vision, lay lead weight on my lungs and make me want to cry or throw up. I reach for those five words, because I know they are five things I can count on no matter what to make everything better.

Grounding, I can feel my toes wiggle in my socks, I can feel the snow crunch underfoot, I can feel my weight roll from heel to toe, step by step in harmony with Myrnah. I can imagine that she feels grounded too as we walk together. Centering- Every movement of mine originating from the core of my body, every movement of Myrnah’s felt and followed from my core. Breathing- It’s not easy for me out in the cold and the snow, but if I think about it I can feel Myrnah breath, and I can match her rhythm, let her breath through me, an underlying rhythm to every movement we make together. Soft eyes can feel impossible when for me the world is spinning and everything looks blurry from vertigo, so this is where having practiced on a good day is invaluable. I remember what it feels like to release the muscles around my eyes, I remember what it feels like inside my eyes when I soften them and allow all my peripheral vision to become part of what I see. As I do these things it helps the world become still and more clear. It helps the stress dissolve and the beauty of the day become apparent again. Building Blocks- a nod of the head up yes and then no, smaller and smaller until the center resting point is found, a shrug and circle of the shoulders around until they too find the central balance, the ribs, the hips the knees and the ankles, all have their central resting point, in fluid balance with all the other parts.

Each one of these five ideas has benefit without need for perfection. Simply walking through them with whatever awareness I have on any give day has a power I would not want to live without.

We all have our highs and our lows, as do our horses. We hope that when one of us is low, the other in the partnership can step in and support, building the bond of connection stronger and deeper.

It often feels perhaps I should not train when I am low or stressed. I become afraid of spreading the horror of what I feel like a menacing rain cloud darkening everyone’s day. If I can allow myself simply to be as imperfect as I am and just show up anyway, I find very often my horses seem to enjoy stepping up to the plate to take care of me for a change. We can walk through the simplest of our movements together, my job being to remember my five basics and attend to them with whatever skill I have that day. I can let my horse take care of the rest of the details.

The five things I can count on will always be there for me. High or low, rain, snow, sun or wind. Life isn’t always easy, but with a partner like Myrnah traveling alongside me, it is pretty wonderful regardless.

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