by Tim Jobe | Feb 2, 2018 | Applied Principles
I read a study the other day that talked about the way the brain functions when our fundamental beliefs are challenged. Basically, it stated that the same regions of our brain fires when we are physically threatened. Those regions that fire on both occasions are the regions responsible for our survival. Although the author was studying the ramifications of political beliefs, I think this has some very important implications for many areas of our lives.
At our Natural Lifemanship trainings we operate out of the belief that a horse is capable of learning how to appropriately control himself or herself. This goes against a lot of peoples’ fundamental belief system, especially if they have extensive experience with horses. Many of the people that have attended our trainings have had to change that fundamental belief to use our model of therapy. It requires changing pathways in our brain and can be an excruciating process. I want to personally thank the people that have been vulnerable enough to struggle with that change. I am excited that 2018 brings us many more opportunities to help people make that shift. I know it will be life changing for the horses and clients we work with, as well as for ourselves.
by Bettina Shultz-Jobe, LPC, NBCC | Feb 1, 2018 | Applied Principles, Personal Growth
Secure attachment to this moment is about finding safety, security, and perfect acceptance of what is, while still being free to miss what was, and long for what will be.
In 2017 I was given the opportunity to practice one of the more difficult principles we teach in Natural Lifemanship – Secure attachment is only found when we are able to feel an internal sense of connection during attachment with AND during detachment from important relationships. The possibility that we can experience a deep sense of connection to others when we are physically alone is, oftentimes, difficult in theory and in practice. I will share my personal story of growth, change, transformation, grief. . . and loss…extreme loss, and how our child helped me better understand that secure attachment extends beyond the relationship with self and others. We can also seek to find a secure attachment to this life and this moment, in general. We can be “securely attached” to a thing, an idea, a moment, a belief. . . Secure attachment extends to “what is”, and that requires the ability to be connected to not only what is right here with us, but also what is gone, or not even here yet.
In Natural Lifemanship (NL) the way we conceptualize secure attachment, connection, attachment, and detachment are important. Specific language and concepts help people effectively transfer learning organically and seamlessly between species and space. This language also provides the space for abstract human concepts to become more concrete and physical, oftentimes making them easier to internalize. Many times in NL physical concepts have an emotional counterpart and vice versa. Attachment can be equated to the sharing of physical space. Detachment can be thought of as exploring physical distance. Both attachment and detachment can exist when there is a concrete felt a sense of connection, as well as an internal sense of connection. Alternatively, a sense of aloneness can prevail regardless of proximity. Children and adults with a secure attachment pattern are able to feel connected and secure in their intimate relationships, while still allowing themselves and their partner to move freely (detachment). It is this kind of relationship that we help people find with a horse – this is part of the reparative experience for our clients. . . and, I would say, for many of us as well.
More about attachment and detachment in therapy sessions can be found in this blog by Kate Naylor. More about how spiritual intimacy grows through connection with detachment can be found in this blog by Laura McFarland. When you sign up for Basic Membership you gain access to more than 5 hours of video demonstrating how attachment, detachment, and connection play out in a relationship that is built between horse and human + more online learning and many other benefits. View all of our membership content here.
But I Miss The Caterpillar…
A year ago, I was reading our two-year-old (almost three-year-old) a book called “The Very Hungry Caterpillar.” On the last page when the caterpillar turns into a beautiful butterfly, our child said, “But where is the caterpillar?” I reviewed the process the caterpillar had gone through in this sweet little book we’d read many times, and he said, “But I miss the caterpillar.” We had a wonderful conversation about change and transformation. . . and loss. You see, this conversation happened about two weeks after our nanny, Carolyn – “Kiki” to Cooper – died a sudden, tragic, unexpected, and untimely death. Carolyn had been our full-time nanny, traveling with us as Natural Lifemanship was growing, since Cooper was 3 months old. She was a member of our family, and like a second mother to me in every way. She drove me crazy and I loved her dearly. She made it possible for us to work in a field about which Tim and I are deeply passionate, while still spending as much time as possible with Cooper. . . something about which we’re even more passionate. She helped us raise our child. I think I’ll just repeat that again for emphasis. She helped us raise our child. She helped me, in very practical ways, navigate this whole working mom thing. She loved Cooper and he loved his Kiki. This was a major loss for our family – couched between and among more loss. In the latter part of 2016 and throughout 2017 our family tragically, suddenly, and unexpectedly lost three more significant relationships. We lost two more the “normal” way – it was expected and it was time, and still painful. After my son and I talked about how change and transformation are often accompanied by grief and loss – in two-year-old language, of course – my little boy said, “I miss Kiki too. AND I don’t wike (like) butterflies.” At that moment, stories of Kiki walking the streets of gold, pain-free, with her mother and with her Jesus, did very little to offer me comfort. . . I must admit I agreed with my little philosopher. I do believe death is the ultimate transformation, and I wasn’t particularly fond of butterflies at that moment either!
Death is also the ultimate detachment from the ones we love, and can result in disconnection. . . or not. It takes many of us years to learn how to deeply connect with those we can see, hear, feel, and touch (attachment). It is often much harder to find that connection when we are physically separated (detachment). Connection with distance takes practice and intentionality and a willingness to sit in the pain of disconnection, for moments, instead of avoiding it. It is a secure attachment that helps us navigate detachment and loss. Typically death is much more painful when it results in disconnection. I say typically because I do realize that sometimes death and disconnection are needed for healing and closure to occur. Sometimes death makes it better. There were moments this last year that I felt this disconnection. . . those are the moments when people describe agony worse than losing a limb. . . slowly. . . without any form of anesthesia. I felt that kind of pain over the last year, many times. I felt it in the moments that I could no longer remember someone’s hands. . . or hear their voice. . . or recall their smell. Our child felt it the night he told me, “I don’t remember Kiki” and wept in my arms. At the core of much developmental and attachment trauma, is an inability to find an internal sense of connection to others when together. . . through shared space and experience, eye contact, touch. . . this transfers to an inability to feel an internal sense of connection when there is distance. Of course. I continue to muddle through the agonizing moments of detachment and disconnection. The freedom to “miss the caterpillar” guides me back to an internal sense of connection with relationships that meant so much to me, and mean so much to me. . . still. Feeling “allowed” to miss what is gone helps us stay connected, even when detached. Our freedom to grieve what once was and what will not be in the future opens us up to a connection in detachment.
However, 2017 definitely hasn’t been all about, what most would deem. . . loss. It has been an amazing year for Natural Lifemanship. We have grown, we have changed, and, I would argue, that we are in the midst of a massive transformation. I’m experiencing how these concepts of attachment can be practiced in not only relationships, but also with ideas, businesses, and moments of our lives. I have always loved butterflies. However, butterflies are sort of the end product, and they don’t really live all that long. A close friend of mine recently pointed out that butterflies get all the credit, but that the caterpillar does all the work. For Pete’s sake, The Very Hungry Caterpillar worked his little tail off to grow, and then he had to sit in a dark cocoon for two stinkin’ weeks! Time in the cacoon isn’t just a long nap, by the way. He worked hard! The butterfly’s journey is really that of the caterpillar. The growing pains of this year are no joke! Sometimes I miss the simplicity of 8 years ago when it all began. I miss the caterpillar, but I still long for the butterfly. Transformation is always predicated on the death of something. . .which means that detachment is a vital part of life and growth. If we want to be securely attached – to a person, an idea, or a moment in time – we must have an internal sense of connection when we are attached and when we are detached.
To be securely attached to the present and the future we have to maintain a healthy connection to the present, and future, AND to the past – connection to what is and what was and what could be. They all matter – that which I am attached to today and that which I have detached from – I need to be connected to both. Secure attachment to this moment is about finding safety, security, and perfect acceptance of what is, while still being free to miss what was, and long for what will be (detachment). This is at the crux of what we teach in NL. We learn to find this through the relationship with our equine partner and then transfer this way of being in the world to every part of our lives.
Our business has changed. Absolutely. We have grown up, matured, and deepened. Transformation, indeed. When Tim and I started this business almost eight years ago, we only dreamed about where we are today, but I still miss the caterpillar. Doesn’t mean that I don’t fully love and accept where we are now. Doesn’t mean I don’t long for the butterfly, but the caterpillar did a lot of work. (And still is!)
October 2017, in the midst of all this loss, Tim and I found out that we are going to have another baby! It really is a miracle of grand proportions, a welcomed gift, and. . . a surprise. We also found out just two days before our first ever conference, and before the busiest fall training schedule, we’ve ever had. Can good news come at a bad time? Well? It did for me! I am well aware of the transformative process every part of me is undergoing and will be undergoing as a result of this new life inside of me. I am also very aware of the loss. I kinda miss the naïve bliss of my first pregnancy. I long for the butterfly. I grieve the loss of the caterpillar, and I strive, each and every day to deeply revel in this beautiful moment.
This year has been all about transformation. Our three year old has recently decided that butterflies are okay. In fact, a few weeks ago he pointed to the body of a butterfly in our living room and said, “The caterpillar is still there. It’s just different.” After a long pause and a deep breath, he said, “But I still miss the caterpillar.” This past year I thought we would have to teach Cooper about grief and loss – hopefully, we did guide him through this process a bit – but he taught me about transformation and true connection. What a gift it has been to grieve with my child. Secure attachment is about looking forward and looking back while maintaining a felt sense of connection now – Just like a child builds a secure attachment through this dance of looking forward and looking back, moving toward and moving away, all while feeling the satisfaction of safety and connection to self and others. . . at this moment. I long for the butterfly and this lifelong transformative process, but I miss the caterpillar. Secure attachment in our relationships can’t exist if we feel chronic disconnection when there is distance. Likewise, a secure attachment to what is and to our future only exists when we find a healthy connection with the past. I so look forward to 2018 – the growth, the change, the transformation . . . and the inevitable loss. . . and the beautiful connection that comes in the midst of it all. I miss the caterpillar, and that is okay, because, really. . . I should. Plus, our three-year-old says it’s okay!
by Laura McFarland | Jan 31, 2018 | Applied Principles, Basics of Natural Lifemanship, Equine Assisted Trainings, Personal Growth
When we sense God is with us, our relationship with God develops through the experience of ‘connection through attachment’, which is a perceived sense of nearness. At other times, perhaps times of great loss or suffering, we may sense God is nowhere to be found. A joyful sense of connection seems to dissolve into a deep well of emptiness with no consolation. We may then experience what 16th-century mystic, John of the Cross, described as the “dark night of the soul.” In actuality, just as winter makes way for spring, this period of perceived absence and isolation potentially gives birth to an even greater spiritual resilience – an abiding sense of connection that survives even our darkest nights. We are invited into a deeper and more mature intimacy with God through the experience of detachment.
Both science and religion point to the fundamental forces and patterns of the universe as being essentially intimate and relational. While the language and the narrative may differ, the theme is the same. We exist in an utterly relational universe. Creation is ongoing as a dance without end. We, ourselves, are created over and over again as our bodily cells grow, mature, and die off, but not before giving life to countless new cells with new variations made possible through the myriad relationships and interactions that occur within our physical bodies and between our bodies and our external environments. No doubt similar processes are at work in the realms less observable, such as in the inner workings of our minds and hearts. Acknowledging this, all major spiritual traditions teach paths of transformation. If our minds and hearts are patterned like everything else in the knowable universe, they are always in the process of changing and evolving. We seek spiritual paths and, increasingly, science-based paths, to take a more active role in our personal evolution involving the growth and transformation of our hearts and minds.
I have prioritized this interest in my life from a very young age. I have learned from different spiritual paths as well as from the science of depth psychology, and more recently, neuropsychology, to help me navigate the journey toward a more whole and healthy life, characterized by a more authentic and loving relationship with myself and with others.
When I encountered Natural Lifemanship several years ago, I immediately recognized the opportunity to practice in practical, embodied ways many of the same processes at work in my spiritual journey. I’ve often reflected on how the principle of pressure has worked in my life to help me to grow more connected with self, with others, and with God. I’ve noticed the ways I’ve experienced pressure, at first as a kind of gentle nudging in my heart toward some kind of change process not fully understood. On some level, I feel I am asked to trust and cooperate with a process, although I may have no idea where it is leading. At the early stages I can’t quite put words to what is being asked of me or know how to respond, but the sense of pressure persists, gently increasing until I can’t ignore it anymore. At this point I start actively seeking an answer, which is Natural Lifemanship’s definition of resistance – not an undesirable thing, rather a positive search for an answer in response to pressure. In fact, my life’s most important lessons and periods of growth came about through the process of acknowledging some internally felt pressure, struggling with it, and finally cooperating, allowing it to change me in ways I never could have foreseen and never would have experienced without my willingness to trust, listen and observe, and cooperate, often blindly, with what I sense is being asked of me.
Another way NL has given concrete language to a pattern I’ve experienced in my deeply personal relationship with God is through the notion that the relationship grows through both attachment and detachment. Attachment in our spiritual lives refers to those wonderful life episodes and experiences where we acutely sense the presence of God, or a higher power, or a deeply felt connection with something greater, in our lives. This is usually felt as a consoling, meaningful, hopeful, warm and embracing presence utterly nurturing and sustaining us. It gives us the sense that all is well and that we can endure whatever struggles we may be experiencing.
The writers of the Judeo-Christian bible and many other religious texts all describe this sort of relationship, where faith is built through such affirming experiences. The early stages of faith can be described as a connection being built through attachment, or what is felt as presence, or the responsiveness of the subject of faith. This is even spoken of in Buddhism, a spiritual path generally unconcerned with the question of an ontological God, but essentially concerned with one’s epistemological relationship with What Is, with reality. Reality is what it is but our lens or our way of seeing and perceiving reality may be clear or it may be clouded. In the case of Buddhism, the lens of perception is polished through practice, but human nature is such that humans won’t persist at practice without some sense of reward. So it is said even in some forms of Buddhism that faith grows at the early stages as the pattern of the universe, being inclined toward evolution, reinforces a sincere practitioner’s efforts in faith (causes) by producing tangible effects experienced as answers to prayers.
There comes a time, however, when faith is tested. There are periods of our lives for many of us in which we feel disconnected from the faith that has sustained us. We experience no sensation whatsoever of the presence of God. Our vivid, Technicolor faith lives seem to have become monochrome and dull. To the extent that we have felt a deep connection before, we may feel utterly abandoned. We may cry, as many of the psalmists and even as Jesus did, “my God, why have you left me?” John of the Cross poetically described this dimension of our spiritual lives as “the dark night of the soul.” As a spiritual director, he did not wish the dark night on anyone but listened for it in those he counseled. Not everyone will experience a dark night, for there are those who may never cease to find consolation when they seek it in their daily lives and normal activities of faith. John maintained that one shouldn’t give up these routines or activities so long as they are producing satisfying results. This is a blessing in and of itself.
Some, though, are invited into a deeper intimacy with God through a fundamental testing of our faith. John of the Cross describes it this way (paraphrased): Our hearts were made for intimacy with the One who created us, and nothing less than a connection directly with our Source will satisfy us at the deepest level of our soul. And yet in our lives, we easily become attached to the more surface consolations available to us and we may rest our identity in something less than our truest selves – which is our true nature as children of God. God, therefore, weans us off of our reliance on consolations – or felt presence – by seeming to withdraw from us. The dark night can, therefore, be understood in NL terms as God, or our relationship with the Divine (however we know the Divine), practicing connection with detachment with us.
The goal is that we begin to cultivate a secure attachment, or enduring sense of connection – one we readily turn to regardless of whether we perceive God as being with us, or not. In Christian theology, God enacted the same pattern by being with humanity (through Jesus’ human presence) to withdrawing from humanity (Jesus’ death) to presence again (appearances after the resurrection) to withdrawal (Pentecost) but at the same time gracing humanity with the presence of the Holy Spirit, also known as “the comforter” or consoler. This pattern of attachment and detachment to build secure attachment (connection) in relationship is written into the gospel, itself.
My hope for all who read this is that in those moments of despair or loneliness and isolation, you find peace knowing that your Source of comfort and of life itself may not always seem near but it is always within. Know that perhaps you are being invited to discover and to rediscover an even more enduring sense of connection in the depths of your lives, one that doesn’t rely on any evidence of response (such as answered prayers) or a felt sense of presence. May we all develop a deep connection with self and the indwelling Spirit that is attuned to the still small voice within. The reward of such a sense of connection is the relationship itself – a “secure attachment” both earned and given by grace.
by Rebecca Hubbard | Jan 6, 2018 | Applied Principles
…Think About It
I woke up this morning and wondered what it would look like if our political parties used the principles of Natural Lifemanship to interact with each other and to do business. Think about it.
What if each party attempted to meet both their own needs and the needs of the other party?
What if each party cared about and worked for compromise and equality in their partnership?
What if each party truly understood that if it is not good for both parties, it ultimately is not good for either party? What if they responded appropriately when the other party “moved their feet”?
What if each party created space for the other party to make choices that are best for both parties? That neither party took away the choices of the other party and neither tried to control the other?
What if both were careful with their verbal and nonverbal communications with the other?
What if it were safe to make mistakes, disagree, and openly and honestly communicate ideas, needs, and beliefs?
What if each party appropriately controlled itself, and made choices using their whole brains?
What if each party respected the other party and was able to set and accept limits?
What if each party was assertive in their communication and actions and not passive or aggressive?
What if both parties were able to use the principles of pressure appropriately? That is, each party increased the pressure when the other party was ignoring. Each party maintained the pressure when the other party was resisting, and each party released the pressure when the other party was cooperating?
What would it be like?
What might we accomplish?
Rebecca J. Hubbard writes stories for children and is a master’s level licensed marriage and family therapist in Texas specializing in equine-assisted psychotherapy. More information can be found at www.rebeccahubbardlmft.com
by Kate Naylor | Dec 23, 2017 | Applied Principles, Parenting and Counseling Children
Attachment Trauma
This is a story about parenting….dogs. Now don’t get me wrong – I have no intention of saying parenting dogs is like parenting kids (entirely), people are not dogs and dogs are not people. But, relationships are relationships – and if we are open to learning, we can learn MUCH from our relationships with animals.
I am a family therapist and in the last few years have ventured into the field of attachment trauma – I have learned and learned, practiced and practiced. But, it turns out; the most humbling and challenging experience for me (thus far) has been parenting a dog with attachment trauma. It makes my heart go out to those who parent children with attachment trauma – again, not the exact same thing, but, similar. Y’all, this stuff is hard, even if it is ‘just a dog’. Let me explain.
I have two dogs – Boogie and Olive. Boogie came into my life as a puppy at 8 weeks old. He started out in a loving home with his momma and has been by my side for the last 9 years. He is utterly attuned to me, cares deeply about what I think, makes requests clearly and calmly, and is easily comforted by our companionship. He is securely attached – he has no trauma around his human relationships – he is attuned and connected, easily. Olive on the other hand, was a stray. My mother took her in at her farm when she was roughly 6 months old. This is where Olive learned to play with other dogs and get along with a handful of humans; she was safe, well fed, and loved. However, she is a very different dog from Boogie. She is skittish, self-focused, is an alarmist, and warms up very slowly to new people, and only if they approach her properly. She came to live with me at about a year old, and about a year ago. She is challenging, to say the least. She is also wonderful and has stolen my heart – but that does not mean things have been easy.
So what is going on here? Why such a huge difference between the two? Olive had a warm and loving home so soon in her life – shouldn’t she adjust easily?
A disclaimer here, my areas of focus are humans and horses; but here is what I know about mammalian brains in general. They begin growing in utero, they grow in response to their environment, and they grow rapidly in the very beginning of life. In humans, 80% of brain growth happens before a child is 3 years old. Dogs grow and age exponentially faster than we do – so it would make sense that a 6-month-old dog would have experienced a significant amount of development in their brain, with much of its neural pathways already sorted out. (Especially when you think about what a 6-month-old dog is capable of, as compared to a human).
When Olive came to live with us, I spent the first few weeks feeling totally overwhelmed. I had had dogs all my life, but she was a conundrum. How can a dog be so selfish, so uninterested in my requests, so hard to soothe? Then, after too long, it hit me…duh, I have a dog with her own difficulties of attachment trauma. I had been studying this and working with families who struggled with this for several years now – but it only then occurred to me that my dog might be experiencing the same thing (it’s so easy to compartmentalize humans as being totally different from animals…but really, that’s just not the case that often). Thankfully, a light bulb went on about so many of her behaviors. For example:
- Olive isn’t selfish – that’s my interpretation of her behavior. What’s really happening is she has an overdeveloped sense of survival, or in other words, the mechanisms for survival in her brain are in overdrive– so every meal, every “treasure”, every opportunity to take care of herself – she capitalizes. Survival thinking is “me” thinking – it is “how do I take care of just myself, in just this moment?” Of course she tried to eat her dinner as well as everyone else’s, and of course, she tried to horde all the treats, and push Boogie out of the way when attention was being given. She was taking care of herself, the best way she knew how. Her early experiences, likely including her intrauterine experiences, told her that survival was of the utmost importance – not relationships with others, and certainly not with humans. That only comes when survival needs are met with safety, security, and predictability. The survival, “me” focused portions of her brain were muscled up, while her relational “we” portions of her brain were underdeveloped.
- Olive isn’t uninterested in my requests – dismissing and rejecting me – she was focused on her needs and how she was going to take care of herself like she’d always done. And anyway, who was I? Some human that thought I should matter to her all of a sudden because I took her in? Humans, in general, have not been a predictable force in her life. Lately, a few had been great, but early on? As a stray I can only imagine her experience of humans – ignoring her, running her off, maybe even being the ones who dumped her in the first place. Yet, I expected her to simply trust me – based on no other reason than I thought she should. I’m pretty nice, why not? But, when people are unpredictable, the safest thing you can do is keep your distance and focus on taking care of yourself. That’s all she was doing. She doesn’t have pathways in her brain that exclaim “Yay, people!” like Boogie – her neural pathways are more likely to say, “People….hmmmmm”. So, it’s no wonder my requests were met with some dismissiveness – building a relationship in which trust goes both ways doesn’t happen overnight, especially when one party has no previous experience with trust.
Imagine trying to ride a bike down a mountain path, when it’s your first time on a bike! You would totally fail – not because you didn’t care, but because you didn’t have the previous experience as a foundation for this new one. Neural pathways don’t change simply because circumstances change, they change over time, with practice and consistency. Just like learning to ride a bike.
- Unpredictability in early life also impacts Olive’s ability to be soothed. Her life for the first 6 months, and possibly in utero as well – involved hunger, fear, and fight/flight/freeze. So her brain wired itself to be highly sensitive, highly responsive, and quick to detect threat. None of this supports a zen approach to life – it does support survival, though, and beautifully so. So
es, when a strange man walks in the house, or a big truck sits in our driveway, or we get in the car for an unknown destination – Olive is upset, and difficult to soothe. Why doesn’t my relationship with her soothe her easily? See point #2.
I cannot tell you how many mistakes I have made with Olive because I assumed she was being selfish, or rejecting, or unreasonably difficult. And knowing what I know about the brain and attachment trauma doesn’t mean I am automatically doing a better job with her. I do at times, and other times I let my feelings get the best of me. To be honest, when I really think back over all the times she and I have gotten cross-wise, most instances were my doing. Yes, she did something I didn’t like – but my impatience, my assumptions, and my big feelings are what turned a small “misbehavior” into a relational rupture. Has she been challenging? Heck yes. Has she been willfully, intentionally “bad”? Pretty much never.
We learn about each other more every day – and a year after she came into our lives she is a loving, sweet, playful friend – who also makes questionable choices and is difficult to soothe. Parenting Olive is a journey in which we both make mistakes. I am deeply grateful for the unending forgiveness she has inside of her – that fortunately, most dogs do.
The greatest lesson she is teaching me is that building a relationship with someone who has experienced attachment trauma doesn’t just take time, it takes intentionality over time. Lots of time. For she and I to be successful we need predictability, calm, intentionality, and forgiveness. Not just love – love is good, it is necessary, but it isn’t a cure all. The brain doesn’t work that way. New pathways are formed through repetition, not just good intentions.
So for those of you who are loving someone (be they four-legged or two) with attachment trauma – it is hard. It is beyond words hard. Progress is slow and certainly not a straight line. And it asks a lot of us – we have to be patient, and in control of our thoughts, emotions, and impulses. But if we expect that of them, then shouldn’t we be able to do it ourselves first? And you know what, life with Olive may never be as easy as it is with Boogie.
But I noticed something the other day. When I laugh…Olive wags her tail, and when she comes bounding into a room (she is always bounding), it makes me smile. It’s a small thing, but it’s something.
Kate Naylor is a Licensed Marriage and Family Therapist in the Austin, Texas area and a Natural Lifemanship trainer. More information can be found at www.kategosenaylor.com
by Laura McFarland | Oct 6, 2017 | Applied Principles, Personal Growth
What does Natural Lifemanship (NL), a model that trains people in trauma-focused equine assisted psychotherapy and equine-assisted trauma informed care have to do with coaching, specifically in the sport of football? Great question.
According to my brother, a college Offensive Coordinator, NL offers coaches the skills, knowledge, and experiences needed to provide a much-desired competitive edge that will help teams perform at their highest potential. After watching my team, the Texas Longhorns (Hook ‘ Em!) make an impressive comeback this season in the first four games, yet still show opportunities for growth in very specific ways, I have to agree with my brother.
My observations in this blog are football-specific, but they actually speak to how NL is valuable to coaches in general. Different roles certainly bring different demands, which impact the specific nature of training for various sports or other professions. Nevertheless, there are certain constants that pertain to coaching.
One of these constants is that coaches want those they coach to perform and be their very best. Performing at the top of our game and living a life in which we fulfill our potential are intrinsically connected with our personal development – physically, intellectually, emotionally, and simply as human beings. Being our best and helping others to be their best means functioning optimally, and optimal functioning in all of life’s domains depends to a great degree on the optimal functioning of our bodies, brains and nervous systems. Understanding how the body, brain, and nervous system work together benefits those striving for their personal best and especially those who coach.
Another constant in coaching is that it is relational. The relationship between coaches and those they coach is understood to be instrumental in achieving the desired outcome of players performing or individuals living up to their highest potential. If this were not the implicit assumption then coaches would be out of a job. Understanding how relationships contribute to (or impede) personal or professional growth and development is a central concern of coaching. Being highly knowledgeable or highly skilled oneself does not necessarily make one effective at coaching others. A good coach has to have the ability to connect with his or her players. A great coach is a master in the art of relationship.
Whether one is a football coach, a tennis coach, a life coach, an instructional coach, or an executive coach, many of the same principles apply.
The top four reasons football coaches may wish to hone their skills through Natural Lifemanship during the off season:
1. NL gives coaches specific tools for building connected relationships while challenging players to grow.
NL teaches coaches how to push players in a way that creates stronger relationships between coaches and players and amongst the team. Nobody argues that good coaching is relational at its core. If coaches don’t earn the trust and the respect of players and aren’t able to build cohesion within their team, all the drills and training in the world won’t prepare the team to execute winning performance on the field. The challenge for coaches is to build these relationships through interactions that are necessarily going to bring out the resistance in players.
Resistance is natural and necessary for growth.
We define resistance as searching for the right answer, and any close relationship and certainly any growth-oriented relationship will eventually bring out resistance in people. If coaches never encounter resistance amongst their players, they are arguably not pushing them beyond their physical and mental limits and thus not promoting growth. On the other hand, if they push them too hard or too fast and without having built a connected relationship, the result is players may comply but only from the lower (“survival”) regions of their brains, which compromises the level of development needed for truly optimal athletic performance. NL gives coaches a neurodevelopmentally sound, principle-based set of knowledge and skills to cultivate relationships with players that result in players’ full, willing cooperation with the expectations of the relationship and not just automatic, subconscious compliance or obedience that eventually interferes with optimal performance and with connected relationship.
2. NL gives coaches a practical understanding of the brain – specifically what is required of a player, neurologically speaking – and how to prepare players to perform at their highest level.
Clearly a good football player has to be athletic and physically well trained but they also have to be present and have their entire brain engaged during a match. They need well developed and integrated pathways between the brain’s lower, automatic reactive regions responsible for survival and its upper, thinking, planning, and strategizing regions, as well as the mid brain regions responsible for relationship and connection with others.
Think of what is required of players. Good players must:
1. quickly and agilely react and move on the field
2. while exercising an acute awareness of space and perception of fast moving and often unpredictable stimuli on multiple collision paths
3. while making split second decisions
4. while experiencing a heightened sense of threat and often physical pain
5. while staying connected and aware of one’s team – moving and reacting in a coordinated way with one’s teammates
6. while maintaining a high level or strategic awareness of the match as a whole (the score, how many time outs are left, how much time is on the clock, what half and quarter and down it is, what are the strengths and weaknesses on the other team, etc.) so that split second decisions are not simply reactive but are also strategic in nature
7. and, they must be able to produce an intensely high level of explosive body energy while staying mentally calm and connected in the present moment
Football is thus very demanding when played at the highest levels. The list above specifies several discrete competencies that are involved when the ball is in play. At any moment multiple regions in the brain must be activated, functioning optimally, and communicating efficiently with other areas of the brain to execute quick, explosive action coordinated with calm planning and purpose.
By way of example, let’s say a team is ahead by one goal and there are only a few seconds left in the second quarter. The offense is in the lead. The wide receiver who catches the pass on the opponents’ 30 yard line starts running toward the goal. Naturally, his adrenaline is rushing and his single-minded impulse is to run as fast and far as he can to reach the goal, which seems deceptively near. However, given the circumstances, a better decision would be to run out of bounds giving his team the opportunity to score a field goal and gain a 10-point lead before the second half. The impulse to run toward the goal and the decision to run out of bounds are naturally exclusive of one another. They actually activate different neural networks in the brain. The ability to act according to strategic judgment that goes against one’s impulses is the hallmark of self-regulation, which requires integration or well developed pathways between the reactive lower regions of the brain and the thoughtful, problem-solving neocortical regions. Knowing this and observing this player’s behavior, a coach could determine that what would be helpful moving forward is helping the player reinforce self-regulation neural networks through specific exercises that have that effect.
NL gives coaches the tools they need to intentionally train players with the experiences needed to build and reinforce integrated networks in the brain that allow them to execute peak performance during a game.
3. NL gives coaches a trauma-informed lens that allows them to understand and work effectively with individual players who show up with histories that impact their abilities to perform and to relate in desired or optimal ways.
Trauma is understood today very differently than it was in the past. We now understand that multiple “little” or complex traumas – chaos, unpredictability, hurts, insults, neglects – especially relational ones – throughout childhood cause children to adapt in ways that alter their developmental trajectory over time. Behaviors that serve to protect people when they are faced with genuine threat are adaptive in the sense that they ensure our survival. As young adults on a football team or in a classroom or in the community at large (wherever a genuine threat is no longer present), these adaptive behaviors often become maladaptive. Maladaptive (i.e., situationally inappropriate and damaging) patterns of behavior get players into trouble and sometimes kicked off the field and off teams. Coaches are well served by having a trauma-informed lens, which comes from an understanding of neurobiology and how traumas (little or big) impact it. This will help coaches understand and work with players who are easily triggered, reactive, impulsive or otherwise impeded by behaviors that don’t serve them or their team well. Coaches can use the principles of NL to help players overcome those patterns through new relational experiences. Coaches must be equipped to respond effectively to players when they behave in ways that damage their relationships with others or with themselves.
4. Coaches need practice, too. Coaching is an art as much as it is a science. Because it involves relationship and relationships are dynamic and highly individual in nature, good coaching is not something that can be learned and developed at the intellectual level alone. By employing horses in our trainings for coaches, coaches have the opportunity to practice embodying what they learn through interacting mindfully with a horse. Horses are known for giving honest feedback because they don’t respond to our words or even our outer actions. They respond to what they sense from our body energy, something we are often unaware of ourselves. In the same way, good coaching requires a coach be mindful and attuned to their players. NL provides a powerful training experience to cultivate knowledge, mindfulness, and attunement that give coaches the edge they need to be more effective with those they coach.
For more information on NLR – our line of trainings and certifications for coaches – Contact Us
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