Truth, Love, and Hard Questions - Part 1
Transformation and healing through connection
Friends! Apologies for the long delay between posts, but I’m hoping that this next series will make up for my absence - I’m really excited and a little nervous to share this one!
When I started writing about this next experience, I got on a roll and it got LONG, so I decided to break it up into manageable chunks over the course of the next few days. For the horse people in the audience, this should be fun or weird or both. For the non-horse people, it might still be fun, and it will definitely be weird, but just hang with me and trust that this level of detail is necessary to understand the gravity of what happened on the second morning of a very profound weekend.
I will be delivering this tale in three parts, free for all subscribers, as I believe the teachings in this story are not mine. They were gifted to me by a very special human. Even at that, they are not his. These lessons and the magic of possibility belong to all of us. What if the type of connection I describe in the following series was available to all people to enjoy with all creatures, human and otherwise? What would that mean? What would it change for you? What if we could remember how to tune in to that little voice in our gut that knows all the things? Somewhere along the way, it was beaten out of most of us, and many of us are at various stages of recovering it. Let’s take this journey together!
Please enjoy Part 1 of this 3-part series ❤️.
November 6, 2023 8:00 a.m.
The setup
One day, if you are lucky, someone will ask you a question with enough truth and love behind it to change the course of your life. It won’t be an easy question. No. But it will be one that stops you in your tracks. One that immediately cuts through all of your bullshit - the bullshit you are told by society, your family, your friends, yourself.
For me, this question came from a stranger trying to help me with my horse - but really what he helped me with . . . was me.
I instantly knew the answer to this question, but the words got caught in my throat. And then, the tears began to fall. First one, then a few more. Then, try as I might to securely close and lock down the floodgate handle, to get ahold of myself, a force much stronger than my pride cranked that sucker wide open. Cool cool cool. Ugly crying in front of 40+ strangers for the second time in two days. Ah well. The person who my friends and family lovingly joke about having no feelings was now suddenly having so many feelings.
Let’s rewind a couple of days. . .
November 4, 2023
I took Tango (I introduced Tango somewhere deep into this post) to a Nahshon Cook clinic. I had heard about the clinic the month before when a good friend asked me if I would go and audit with her. Hell yeah, I will!! I’ve been dying for an opportunity to watch this man work. When I went to the event page, I saw that one rider spot had just opened up due to a cancellation. Synchronicity #1. I could not pay the clinic organizer fast enough. Nahshon is a world class horseman, but more than that, from what I could tell, he is a world class human and teacher. Even though I was leaving the day after this clinic to go to Idaho for a week to work with another amazing horseman (as in, this was going to be a lot of effort and exhaustion and financial frenzy 💸), I could not miss this opportunity.
This morning, one of the other participants came down with covid and had to cancel. When the group message came through at 8am, something within me said “offer to take that spot right now!” Rarely am I so certain of a decision (sadly). I texted the person and offered to pay her for her spot, and then I messaged the clinic organizer. Both agreed with a sigh of relief. Filling a rider slot the day before a clinic is really tough, so this worked out for all of us. Woah. Ok, so now I have 4 hours in two days with this amazing person. Something told me this was going to be big. Synchronicity #2.
At least 6 people I know were supposed to be auditing this clinic. Hours before the clinic was to begin, one by one, five of the six had to cancel for one [good] reason or another. I was essentially going by myself and didn’t know anyone - it was a weird feeling. Even my husband didn’t come, and I brought his horse (who is really mine, just saying). I talked to a friend of mine while I was driving in, and she said, “You need to do this on your own.” While it seemed a silly thing to say about something as normal as going to a clinic (I do a lot of clinics), we both knew she was right. This one was going to be different. I’m going to call this synchronicity #3, even though in the moment, it was slightly scary.
November 5, 2023 8:00 a.m.
The morning of the clinic arrived, and I was riding first and last 😳😶🌫️. I saddled Tango in his stall, then took him into the arena about 20 minutes before my ride time. Dozens upon dozens of auditors were pouring through the doors with their chairs and their notebooks and their expectations. I could smell coffee, the barn, the hay, the shavings, the horses, the arena dirt. The hum of excitement echoed through the arena - all of it was so vivid.
I leaned in and gave Tango a rub on his neck, taking in his scent as well to help ground myself in the moment. “It’s just you and me, bud,” I whispered to him, more for myself than for him. He held his head high and tight, nervously looking around at the unfamiliar sights and sounds as he soaked in the energy in the room and from me.
I walked him around until he could lower his head a bit more calmly, then climbed into the saddle, my jeans sliding with a comforting familiarity over the smooth leather, foot landing perfectly in the opposite stirrup. I sat for a moment and collected my thoughts, and then … woooooosh … we were off. Tango, feeling a bit too much anxiety to stand still, left the mounting block at a brisk walk. I focused on my breath, staying light in my stirrups (not bracing), and giving him some direction to please walk a straight line down the length of the arena, asking that he stay between my hands and legs. We looked like a drunken sailor. He felt like a noodle under me - that’s how horses feel when they are insecure. Looking around this way and that, wanting to be somewhere else. With each little bend, I squeezed my fingers or put my leg on to ask him to stay straight. It was a quiet, but busy conversation between us.
After several moments, Nahshon entered the arena, mic’d up and ready to go. We came to a relaxed halt - standing quietly and calmly was a win. Nahshon said hello and asked me why I was here today. I introduced myself and told him a little about Tango. He’s a 21 year old Tennessee Walking Horse that we’ve had for 4 years. He came to us a very anxious fellow, and though we’ve made quite a lot of progress, I’d like some help with his anxiety. Specifically, I wanted help teaching him to carry himself in a healthier posture so that he could feel safe in his body. He also suffers from sleep deprivation, I believe, as a result of feeling unsafe within himself and always being on guard in his environment.
“Why are you riding in a hackamore?” he asked. [A hackamore is a type of bitless bridle - nothing in the mouth]. I went on to explain that he seems to have come with some negative baggage relating to the bit. When we got him, he’d just grab it and charge off. So I decided to start him in something totally new to him - a fresh start with no negative or positive association. Seemed logical to me - I was pretty proud of that idea when I had it.
“You’re not really being fair to him - you’ve taken away his ability to communicate his discomfort. Do you have a snaffle [bit] with you?” Oy, well, I definitely hadn’t looked at it that way before, but I’m here to learn and I’m open to anything I can do to help Tango.
I said that I did have a snaffle with me and started to dismount to go get it. “I’ll get it. Just tell me where it is, and we can try it,” he said as he started to walk toward the tack room. With those words, Tango jolted out of his relaxation with a start, head raised and whites of his eyes showing. Nahshon stopped in his tracks. “Well ok, then. That’s our answer.” Tango lowered his head and sighed. Confirmation. And we didn’t discuss changing headgear again for the remainder of our time together that weekend. Wow, a horseman whose ego and need to be right didn’t stop him from listening to the ultimate teacher: the horse. In fact, not many people would have even noticed what the horse was doing in relation to the conversation. At that moment, two minutes into our session, I knew this teacher was special.
Stay tuned for Part 2 of this story coming tomorrow!
Pins and needles as I await part two!