I never set out to establish a theory or ideology behind horsemanship. I grew up riding in various lesson barns, working for saddle time, grooming time, and just the opportunity to bask in everything horse related. I meshed every fiber of my being into horses as a child. It was the driving force behind who I was. Behind who I am. I detoured into another career path in my young adult life, but quickly veered back into horses.

I spent several years working alongside competitive trainers. I watched the methods they used to win. I watched shiny, fat horses that were not whole. They didn’t communicate their wants or needs. They felt like a means to an end.

I found myself struggling to get excited about training. Because it didn’t feel like preparing horses for a full, successful career. It felt like teaching them to say “Yes ma’am.” I wanted to quit. I didn’t want to feel like I was molding animals reliant on learned helplessness.

But I wasn’t sure how to do things differently. In some ways, anyone who knows me will tell you that I exist firmly in a realm of chaos of my own creation. I’m exactly who you want in a crisis- I’m adaptable and I think well on the fly. And yet somehow, I’m not someone who enjoys being without a plan. I like having goals. I like having things to work towards. And with competition horses, I was always “in it to win it.” I felt completely lost abandoning that mindset. The thought of putting bond and consent above goals and progress felt completely alien. Could the two work together? What did that look like?

I had no clearly defined trajectory, but I had no choice but to go in without a plan. I spent countless hours just studying the herd and watching the way they traveled at liberty. I began focusing more on resolving horses’ physiological issues and began playing with posture and rehabilitative tools to enhance equine comfort. I became certified as an equine kinesiology tape practitioner, and began studying methodologies that promote correct locomotion.

I started seeing wonderful physiological changes in my horses, but I realized that “fixing” horses had become another thing to hyper focus on. It was no different than over training. My horses enjoyed the physical relief that our sessions brought them, but it was just another itemized checklist. I still wasn’t emotionally present, and I was lacking a dimension in my interactions.

I started forcing myself to “check in” and be present every few minutes during each session. I watched the way my horses reacted to the check ins. How they came back to the moment when I did. It really forced me to see the impact that my own emotional state was having on my animals, whether I acknowledged what was going on internally or not.

I started ruminating on the magnitude of our internal balance, and the way a lack of emotional awareness and accountability can domino, toppling everything we are working towards with these amazing animals.

I’m finding success in working through my own emotional inaccessibility, coming out of shut down mode and allowing myself to process life as it happens. I’ve allowed this approach to grow organically, feeding into the way I interact with my students and their horses. The most critical piece of theory my horses have imparted to me is the importance of being aware of your energy in each and every interaction, mounted or not.

I’m thrilled with the sigh of relief my horses have collectively shown. It’s as though they say “Good, you’re finally here. Now we can work together.”

This has lead to a hybridization of work within both the equine and human emotional spectrum, coupled with an understanding of equine locomotion, physiology, and the antagonistic musculature within the body that contributes to dysfunction.

I look forward to continuing to nurture this approach as it organically evolves, and I am grateful to each and every one of you who’ve chosen to embark on this journey with me.