In the last couple of years while I've been dabbling in horses but too sick to get right into it in a practical way, I've been listening to a lot of podcasts.
It started with Canter Therapy, an Australian podcast which introduced me to people like Kerry Thomas, Lockie Phillips, Tami Elkayam and Luke Thomas who I started to follow on social media. Lockie Phillips' brutally honest critique of R+ training prompted me to look further into his work, and led me to his Emotional Horsemanship online courses and podcast. Here I discovered Celeste Lazaris and her Balance Through Movement Method, which I also started to study and apply.
The Emotional Horsemanship podcast in turn led me to Alexa Linton and her podcast The Whole Horse, with a focus on holistic horse care with a sprinkling of spiritualism. On Facebook the algorithm introduced me to the dissection work of Becks Nairn, classical dressage and innovative rehab techniques by Rylana Stauffer, and the musings of Brumby advocate and 'Horse Gurl' Jemima Key.
I've got a long and checkered history of turning my hobbies into hustles, and an unhealthy habit of wanting to prove my worth by monetising my latest area of interest. Abandoned businesses involving agistment, soapmaking and horticulture, to list a few, prove that nothing is forever and turning your passion into an obligation is a great way to ruin a good thing.
I've worked in the horse industry, and invariably it led to me arriving home at the end of a long day with neither the energy nor the inclination to spend time with my own horses.
On top of that, a theme that comes up regularly while listening to equine professionals tell their story is that burnout is a common consequence of trying to care for horses and their people, because horse people can be a bit terrible at respecting your boundaries.
What is most important to me, as a 'special needs' rider, is safety. I'm going to ride, and I need to find a way to make that as safe for me as possible. This means finding a sensible pony, developing a relationship with them based on mutual care and understanding, and getting my nervous system to a place where I don't turn into a quivering, reactive mess at the first sign of trouble.
Over the past few years I've trained my ragtag little herd of ponies to be respectful of my space, to do what I need to do with them safely, and to cope with being handled by others who don't always do things the way they are used to.
I sense that within me there is a skillset that I am uniquely positioned to apply, and that could be of real benefit to others and their horses. But I am starting to realise that in order to find that, I need to walk the walk first.
I need to learn more about myself and develop myself as a horse person.
So until the 'aha!' moment comes, even if it never comes, I will turn the spotlight on myself. On my nervous system, my beliefs, my intuition, my needs, and my ponies.
I'm going to bond with my herd. I'm going to work on improving their physical health. I'm going to work on improving my own. I'm going to work through what remains of my fear responses so that I can learn to assess and appropriately respond to risks. I'm going to teach them all to be light in hand, respectful in the paddock, and open to discussion about doing difficult or scary things.
I'm going to keep learning from others and search out answers to questions I haven't thought of yet.
Horses are too important to me to ruin the joy with obligation.
Maybe one day the lightning will strike and I'll discover the Thing that I can't stop thinking about and desperately want to learn everything about and share with the world.
Until then I'll keep writing about the small discoveries and sharing the insights that might help make your life a little easier.
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