I said that this post would be on feedback, but there’s something more immediate I’d like to talk about here – stroking our horses. Stroking has enormous significance to what Tom Dorrance describes as the ‘foundation’ of horsemanship – horses ‘coming to us for security’ (True Unity, p 12). Without this, he says, nothing will work. Above all else, we want our horses to feel happy and safe with us. This is what leadership is about.
In an excellent article about the significance of connection, Jo Spiller says
So how do you create this partnership? You don’t do anything to create it, because it’s not a matter of doing. It is much more a matter of who you are being. You see, we have language for doing things: we can say ‘Put your heels down’, ‘Sit up straight’… but nobody can tell you how to do ‘being’.
After years of teaching riders and training horses, Spiller says that she suddenly saw what had been there in plain sight. She’d been too busy doing things to see that the basis of good horsemanship was the capacity to develop a connection with horses. And, ‘in order to achieve that connection’, she realized, we ‘must undergo a transformation’, a change in form of being.
In previous posts I’ve made references to softness – to soft ways of looking, to the softness in states of being calm, present and focussed, to the softness in a connection between human-and-horse. For example, with reference to the kangaroo experience, I said that Corey softly picked up a feel on the rein, and looked softly at the kangaroo to help Pia soften, relax and become curious. In this post, I want to think more about what is involved in a soft way of being and why this is so important to being-in-relation with horses.
Any activity performed with skill requires good timing. This is true of catching a wave, for example, or hitting a ball or playing a musical instrument or dancing …. Good timing is also essential to skilful horsemanship, both on the ground and in the saddle. Whatever the specific skill might be, acquiring the capacity for good timing takes never-ending practice, and it depends on a particular temporal way of being – being present.
In this post, I’ll just give one example of the connected form of support that I outlined in the previous post. The situation that I’ll describe will be immediately recognisable to horse people. The ways of addressing it vary enormously.
My horse Pia is very sensitive and can easily frighten. So, we pay particular attention to ensuring that she feels safe with us. When we offer support, it’s crucial that it be something that she will look for and appreciate, rather than something to brace against. The more I work with Corey, the more trusting and happy Pia becomes – it is a joy to see the transformation.
In this post, I want to introduce one of the most basic issues for living in-relation with horses, that of support. From the relational perspective of inter-being, giving support is our key responsibility in this relation.
Working with Corey Ryan, I am continually learning the significance of support in a horse-human relation, and how this is analogous to that called for in a student-teacher relation. When I am with Corey, I find that I am able to let go of any worries or fearful anticipations and remain present to what is at hand, open to possibilities and confident in trying things out. Quite simply, I feel supported in this learning experience. I am also very aware that, in Corey’s presence, horses remain or become calm and relaxed, and, in that state, curious about their environment and capable of learning new things. Clearly, then, we are sharing this experience of support and calmness. And, so, I make the rather obvious connection: Corey is giving me the sort of support that I need to give horses, and through his support I am developing the capacity to support them. Continue reading Living in-relation with horses: support
This is the first of a series of posts I hope to do on living in-relation with horses.
I have been inspired to write about this by Corey Ryan, a horseman with whom I’ve been working over the past year. Corey’s understanding of relationship and connection makes such a difference to the learning experience for horse and human. Through him, I am learning anew the significance of a relational way of being, and more and more about being in-relation with horses. I will be giving examples of these learning experiences in subsequent posts.
Here I want to take as a starting point the ecological principle of universal connectedness, and raise some questions about the implications of this for living in-relation with horses. The Buddhist monk Thich Nhat Hanh uses the term ‘interbeing’ to describe this ecological principle. He says ‘To be is to inter-be. You cannot just be by yourself alone. You have to inter-be with every other thing’. All things in the universe are interconnected. The vegetables that I am eating needed the sun and rain and earth to grow; the rain needed a cloud that was blown by a wind that connected far distant places and people… (The Heart of Understanding P4). Continue reading Living in-relation with horses: interbeing
In 2017, I began conducting interviews with people who live in Anghiari. Some were conducted in Italian, some in English, and they were all published in both languages on this blog. While in Anghiari in spring this year, I continued this project. These interviews are also being published in both languages.
Appartenenza ad Anghiari: Filippo Borgogni
Filippo lavora con la famiglia nell’agriturismo/ristorante “Mafuccio”, sulle colline vicino ad Anghiari. Mafuccio faceva parte della cooperativa agricola Montemercole, una comunità basata su principi religiosi ed etici di rispetto per gli animali e l’ambiente, ma la famiglia Borgogni sta per diventare indipendente. Ho intervistato Filippo in una bellissima mattina di primavera. Ci siamo seduti sulla terrazza, ad uno dei tavoli di legno costruiti dal padre Francesco, che è il cuoco del ristorante. C’era anche la sorella Carlotta che ha partecipato all’intervista, con i suoi commenti e precisazioni. L’intervista in italiano è stata trascritta e tradotta in inglese da Mirella Alessio. Questa è una versione editata.
Sono nato a Grosseto e ho diciannove anni. Nel 2005 ci siamo trasferiti a Montemercole, dove è cominciato tutto il progetto della cooperativa… che è stata fondata nel 1984. Ho due fratelli, Tommaso e Taddeo, e una sorella, tutti più grandi di me, io sono il più piccolo di casa.
In 2017, I began conducting interviews with people who live in Anghiari. Some were conducted in Italian, some in English, and they were all published in both languages on this blog. While in Anghiari earlier this year I continued this project. These interviews will also be published in both languages.
Il senso di appartenenza ad Anghiari: Franco Talozzi
L’anno scorso ho intervistato la figlia di Franco, Cinzia e la nipote, Armida, che insieme conducono il ristorante “Talozzi” ad Anghiari. Quest’anno ho avuto la fortuna e l’opportunità di intervistare Franco, di cui tutti parlano sempre benissimo e che, quando sindaco di Anghiari negli anni Ottanta, ha dato un enorme contributo allo sviluppo della città, specialmente sotto il punto di vista culturale. L’ho intervistato in una gelida giornata di marzo, a casa sua, nella parte medievale del paese. È venuta con me anche Mirella, che trascrive e traduce queste interviste, e là abbiamo trovato la moglie, Anna, e Cinzia, tutti riuniti in una stanza accogliente, dalle pareti foderate di libri con una splendida vista sulla valle Tiberina. Cinzia aveva anche preparato una deliziosa mantovana, una tipica torta toscana che ci è stata poi servita con il vin santo. L’intervista, condotta in italiano, è poi stata trascritta e tradotta in inglese da Mirella Alessio e questa ne è una versione editata.
Bene! Beh, io sono nato a Chiusi, in provincia di Siena, il 23 novembre del 1937, perciò ho compiuto ottant’anni da poco. Sono nato in una famiglia contadina. Il mio babbo ha fatto il guardiacaccia in una grande riserva di un grande proprietario, in una delle dodici fattorie granducali del duca Leopoldo, il grande Leopoldo, che aveva, da Arezzo fin nella città di Chiusi, fatto la bonifica, erano tutte paludi. Aveva costituito dodici fattorie, questa fattoria dove sono nato io si chiama Dolciano, aveva 24 famiglie di contadini. Ero l’unico maschio, avevo quattro sorelle.
Yesterday, it was only by chance that we went to Toppole, a small mediaeval hamlet in the hills above Anghiari. A friend who had been visiting family in Padova was here for just a few days, and, as she has never been to Anghiari before, I’d given some thought to the choice of a nearby walk to do. In a distracted state, however, I drove to Toppole instead of the place I’d planned on. In response to my ‘oh, wrong place’ as we turned the last bend, Marisa said ‘don’t worry, maybe it’ll be the right place.’