Hard but honest truths
The quick fix, the made-to-order training program, and the responsibility to figure it all out is put on the horse.
Teaching, coaching, problem-solving, and taking training horses in is both life giving and exhausting. Our world revolves around instant gratification, both receiving information and products exactly how we want and when we want. This feeds the land of guru horsemen and fair-weather riders. But the horses need us to show up honestly; they need us to be able to show up in the wind, rain, and heat to teach them the skills required to be in the human world. They need to learn how to use their bodies better so that they can be sound in ridden work, and for us to learn how to use ours better too.
As many of my students know, the specific problem we experience with our horses is usually not the real issue at hand. It can be hard to help people unravel this, and hard to convince the person of the value of truly working the horse from where they need me to start. The issues we face might require that we go back and grow in how we do things; for most horses who are holding tension, have poor husbandry, bad feet, and chronic pain, the answer probably isn’t wet saddle blankets. If my horse doesn’t do what I ask on the ground, maybe I have to re-learn how to use my lead rope with care so that it becomes a tool that guides the horse with quality. If my horse can’t easily load in a trailer, maybe I have to observe that the way I’ve handled and ridden my horse has driven the front end into the ground and locked up the shoulders. If my horse starts refusing jumps, maybe I need to look at the tension and atrophy in her muscling, and learn how to support her to use her body better before asking her to jump with me on board.
When I take a horse in for training, I try my best to observe what the horse and their owner need to reach their goals. But the reality is, I am working within the confines of where the horse is physically and mentally, as well as where the person is in those regards. Sometimes where I can get a horse is really different than what someone had in mind. It’s the same in lessons, with people feeling frustrated because they’ve asked to work on a specific issue, but in order to do so I ask them to go somewhere completely different with their riding or handling.
Taking lessons and having a horse in training is not like building a subway sandwich. With my philosophy, I can’t knowingly take shortcuts. I can’t build someone the subway sandwich they want, if I don’t have access to the ingredients. I can't lie to someone about what their horse needs from them, and the same goes for me. This morning I asked my teacher to help me spend a few minutes on bridling my horse better at the end of my lesson. It was just what I needed; no shame involved.
Life is hard, but isn’t there some honest truth in the idea of choosing your hard? It’s hard to learn how to help a horse move better, and how to be a more thoughtful horse person and develop discipline and dedication to show up even when it feels inconvenient. It’s also hard to ignore what the horse needs, and to watch horses develop behavioral issues and physical pathologies over and over.
Photo of the most special mare that I never deserved. She taught me to always be better, and even still I failed her so much. I learned most of the lessons she tried to teach me long after she was gone, and those are the lessons I hold closest to my heart.
