In truth it was the horsemanship aspect of NL that hooked me first. I didn’t grow up with horses. I didn’t grow up in barns with trainers, no competitions or shows, no one telling me how it should be or what is the ‘right’ way. In 1998, I was a sophomore at Prescott College and I met a woman named Barbara Rector. I don’t remember the name of the class she was teaching, something about horses and healing … it caught my attention and that was the beginning of something great. Barbara opened a window in my heart and gave me a glimpse of what’s possible between horses and humans. However . . what I found outside that environment was confusing.
After I met Barbara I dove head first into the field of ‘Equine Assisted’ services. I pursued the field academically and practically as I started to develop my own thoughts and ideas in the world of horsemanship. What I found in that world was that there were a LOT of opinions. And most of those opinions required me, the human, to take care of the horse. To manage the horse. To tell the horse what to do. It never made sense to me and yet it seemed like it was the only answer… clearly horses couldn’t take care of themselves. And so my journey began. Because I didn’t feel I had enough knowledge or experience, I decided I needed to learn as much as I could from other equine professionals. I met some absolutely brilliant ‘horse people’. I stayed on that path for many years, trying to make sense of something that never felt quite right.
In 2015 my partner, Matt, and I purchased Dandelion Farm and moved Discovery Horse and our herd of 8 horses home in the late fall. I had been anticipating this day since 1998. I was terrified and excited. I was committed to find a way to live and work with my horses that felt good for everyone. That encouraged us all to grow and be accountable. That felt safe and equal. That fostered connection. I was committed to listen, to make mistakes, to apologize and I was committed to showing up.
Slowly but surely, I started to see how this new way of being together was affecting the herd. I saw more confidence, less reactivity. They ran TO me when I went to the pasture. They couldn’t wait to get up to the arena when people were here. When people came to the farm I allowed space for them to step into that sort of relationship experience with a horse and amazing things were happening. I really started to question how one form of training could work for every horse. I was seeing in my own herd instances that defied that logic. I started to understand that being with horses is more about the relationship than it is about knowledge and rules. A relationship that invites each person/being to be their own expert in needs, wants, boundaries and connection.This was an incredible revelation but one that left me feeling weak in the knees . . because being in this sort of relationship with the herd required me to trust myself, and to see myself as an expert, a task I have spent years working on but by no means have mastered.
So here I was. Armed with this new revelation, finally feeling good about how I was showing up with my horses, yet still feeling isolated in my belief systems. I struggled to find language, confidence and community to foster what I was practicing.
Enter Natural Lifemanship. In June of 2017 Discovery Horse hosted a NL fundamentals training at our farm. Our trainers for the weekend, Reccia and Claire, presented the attendees with a challenge . . . a request . . . they asked us to believe, for the weekend, that horses could make choices. I’m not sure . . but I think I might have actually ‘whooped’ in agreement. As the weekend progressed I felt as though Reccia and Claire were speaking my language while at the same time opening my mind to a whole new way of supporting my clients, my animal partners and myself, from a place of science and principals that made absolute sense and fell in total alignment with how we had been operating at Discovery Horse. And I found a community that honors the horse as an equal partner and views our connection with horses as not only foundational to our work, but as real and vibrant relationship in its own right. I left that weekend feeling empowered by the fact that I wasn’t alone.
At the time of this writing, I am nearly done with the process to become dually certified as a Natural Lifemanship Practitioner and Equine Professional. As a practitioner of the Equine Gestalt Coaching MethodⓇ my scope of practice is coaching and equine-assisted learning. I am a consummate seeker of knowledge and experience and have been certified and trained with some of the best individuals and models our industry has to offer. The NL model has provided me with a framework that beautifully encapsulates all of my background and training while the principles tie it all together. Since June I have attended a mustang intensive in CA, attended the first NL conference in TX and I participated in a group consultation as part of certification. I have been consistently impressed and inspired by the staff of NL and the individuals that choose to embrace their work.
I have been very impressed with the depth and professionalism the certification process provides. I am a business owner, coach, horse professional, mom and spouse and the flexible learning platform made it possible to add this to my already full life in a successful way. The community itself is exceptional. The conference was one of the best I have attended, providing staggering amounts of information and representing all facets of equine-assisted professionals. Tim and Bettina truly foster a non-competitive environment focused on growth and learning. The word ‘authentic’ rings true at a deep level. It is clear that this is a community committed to doing the kind of work that changes lives.
Ultimately the principles of NL require us to take responsibility for ourselves while in relationship, which of course requires connection. I have integrated the NL model into many of my client sessions and have consistently seen results that exceed expectation. I like to imagine a world where this happens as the rule and not the exception. I am so stoked to see the impact NL is having on our industry and the relationships we have with our equine partners. I believe that the power of their principles reaches far beyond the field of trauma. . . .it is really a recipe for life as their name so beautifully implies!
As a student of Barbara Rector’s we were asked to make a safety agreement as a group before we began our work. The agreement Barbara used was:
“I agree to be responsible for myself today, thus contributing to the safety of this group”. Not until the moment of writing was I aware how full circle this statement would come in my life. After 20 years of searching, Natural Lifemanship has helped me access my ability to trust myself, allowing me to confidently embrace and facilitate the horse and human connections I always knew were possible.
Experience the Natural Lifemanship principles for yourself and find the pieces you’ve been missing as well by signing up for one of our trainings in your area. Also, be on the lookout for our trainings coming up in 2019.
Leslie and I arrived at Miracle Farm in Brenham Texas with great excitement for our Natural Lifemanship Rhythmic Riding Immersion. This was the next stage of our education: an advanced intensive training designed to help us experience and understand more deeply how rhythmic patterned sensory input and movement helps a person learn to manage – or regulate – themselves through stressful or emotional moments of life.
Research shows that connected, attuned and healthy relationships are the paths (literally: neural pathways) to building resilience and to overcoming the effects of complex trauma on our brain and our body. To create that kind of relationship, a person has to be able to manage themselves first; to understand when fear, anger or defensiveness is present, and to be able to do something constructive with those feelings. We call this “regulation”.
Our group for this training was small, and the trust for each other was immediate. That, we would soon learn, was important as the work we were to do over the next three days was going to require vulnerability, persistence, failure, change, support and a willingness to risk it all. Our goal was to build a relationship with a horse that puts connection above all else, recognize when “compliance” or “dissociation” is offered instead of connection, and actually ride/dance to the rhythm of music by the time we left on Sunday.
To prepare ourselves for the work at hand, each day started with a mindfulness practice and drumming exercises designed to get us in touch with our own internal rhythms, and to find ways to merge that with our partners. Together we had to learn to dance independently and also in sync, often at the same moment.
We met Pete in an open arena with four other horses. He seemed somewhat willing to notice that we were there and offered, at a distance, a bit of connection. Pete stood alone and independent, he was attractive, and had the cutest white snip on his nose. Leslie and I chose him as our relationship partner for the weekend.
Other than the fact that Pete lives at Miracle Farm, we knew nothing about him. We were excited, and began the process of attuning our senses to Pete’s non-verbal communication, his rhythm, his desires and his ability to connect when asked. It was Leslie’s job to establish our first connection and to obtain his consent in putting on a halter, but only five minutes into the process we knew one thing more – when asked to connect Pete can be aggressive. Ears pinned, nose out, and at a fast pace, he moved toward Leslie. He made it very clear how he felt about connection with us and our request for relationship!
Deep breath; we had our work cut out for us this weekend. Was this acceptable behavior? Do we recognize similar behavior in other parts of our lives? How do we respond? Do we allow it? Does Pete really desire a connected relationship with us, or is that just our “thing”? And how do we help Pete change this mal-adaptive behavior (behavior meant to keep him safe in other situations, but not appropriate in this situation) through a connection and not by punishment?
Over the next three days, Leslie, Pete and I climbed what seemed to be a staircase. With each step up – and often when we felt like we’d left the aggressive behavior behind – Pete brought it out again. At first we were shocked, certain that we had overcome that on the previous step! By Saturday afternoon we kept seeing the same pattern emerge. Every time we moved forward with deeper connection Pete became very uncomfortable. His stress started to rise and the negative behavior returned, however now a new adaptation was added: whenever the stress reached a certain point, Pete started to pump his hind legs up and down. We thought that he was trying to regulate, but dang! Was all of this too much? Should we slow down? Should we speed up? What? Clearly, Pete was not the only one going through this process, and Leslie and I learned to open ourselves to the feedback from each other. Whenever one of us began to doubt the process or our attempts to move through it, the other filled in with support. We often wondered if it was Pete’s behavior that was causing the defensiveness in our own brains and bodies, or – was it the other way around?
By Sunday morning, we were not sure that our rhythmic ride was going to happen by the afternoon. We were open to all possibilities and stayed committed to an attuned connection with Pete. However, by mid-morning, Pete had said “yes” to the bareback pad, and so it was time to ask if we could ride. Like all of the previous steps, he aggressively said “no” at first, only this time we got to “yes” much quicker. I was the first to ride, and within minutes we were fluidly moving around the pen. We found stop, go, left and right without the use of my hands or reins. Leslie had the same type of ride. We exhaled and broke for lunch early. The three of us had overcome what had once been a brick wall boundary – together.
After lunch, we saddled up, and it came as no surprise that Pete provided us with the opportunity to work through some more stress. But now, his former aggressiveness had changed to just a little bit of defensiveness. Once again, I was the first to step on and this time there was nothing to work through! Pete and I headed to the big arena, both of us a little nervous for the unknown that lay ahead. Two songs played as we warmed up in a walk, and then my first song (“Fly” by Celine Dion) came on. Pete and I found our Rhythm quickly, but I honestly have no idea how we did it. There was no technique involved; we just felt each other. We found a walk and a trot beautifully, and – somewhere in that song – we found trust. We were totally connected, both of us feeling the power of the moment.
Then it was time to step off. I was overcome by the intensity and the work of the weekend that had culminated in the past 30 minutes that, as a person who has many horses living on her own property, I had never felt before.
Then, it was Leslie’s turn to fly. And while that is her story to tell, I believe she had a very similar experience. I kept the beat for her as well, and the final song found the three of us walking together, Leslie on Pete, she and I holding hands. Only the three of us could really know where we had been together, all that had been accomplished, and the connections that had been developed between us.
At the end of this type of immersive experience there is usually an opportunity to reflect on and talk about all that you have learned. It is these final moments of the training that Leslie and I learned a little more about Pete. He had participated in these type of trainings before, but he had never been able to complete them. His aggressive and defensive behavior had been evident, but he had also displayed signs of colic (stomach ache), severe diarrhea, and lameness. In fact, Pete had recently seen three different veterinarians in the farm’s attempt to figure out what was causing the lameness issues. They saw it, but could not find any medical reason for it.
Unbeknownst to us, Miracle Farm and Natural Lifemanship were wondering if Pete’s physical condition had something to do with his adaption to his environment and life on the farm. Leslie and I happened to be next in the line of folks that had the opportunity to help him work through his difficulties. We saw his shallow breathing, we heard the stomach rumbling, and we were aware of several other physical aspects of his adaptive behavior, but he never colicked, and he absolutely never took a faltering step during our rides of a lifetime. Pete made it through – he had crossed a threshold that he had never crossed before. Along the way he had also developed some new neural pathways that would allow him to do it again. Leslie and I are so grateful for those that had helped Pete before us, and were honored beyond our imagination to have been on the part of the journey that allowed him to cross the final threshold.
This was an intense weekend. At each step along the way we had to be willing to risk the relationships we had developed to see if we could take them one step further, one step healthier. This is the work that our clients – individuals who have experienced complex trauma in their own lives – their families, and their friends must be willing to do in order to heal and regain their life and relationships.
We see this frequently at Windows to My Soul. An individual makes a huge breakthrough, or finds a subtle change that allows them to deepen their connections and discover more resilience, direction, or empowerment. Yes, it can and does happen, but it is often not a “big bang” moment. We frequently have to climb that same staircase that Pete climbed, and with every step there is the opportunity to develop a new neural pathway to success instead of the old one that has us stuck in and feeling trauma. Over time, conscious choices begin to help direct us toward the new path, leading to an implicit neural pathway that creates successful, healthy, connected relationships automatically.
We know that the next time Pete is asked if he would like to participate in a training or carry a rider that his brain and his body might feel and express the same automatic reaction (old neural pathway) to the request. But we also know that he has developed a new pathway that will allow for healthier relationships, and an ability to help him recognize the universal need for connection. Once, only one choice was possible for him. Now there are two.
It is Leslie’s and my sincere wish that Pete will be surrounded by folks who understand that, and are willing to support Pete as he strengthens his pathways to connection, particularly when reverting to the old pathway can be so much easier.
And if Miracle Farm is ever ready, our trailer will be hooked and ready to roll to Texas! Pete has a forever home at Windows to My Soul, any day, any time.
Edited by: Leslie Exter
Experience Rhythmic Riding™ for yourself. Click the link below to sign up for our last RR Immersion training this year.
How Cross Brain Connections Literally Saved My Life!
In this blog, I will discuss how a healthy brain develops and how trauma impacts this process by localizing neural connections in the lower regions of the brain, the part concerned with survival. I will share ways we can capitalize on the brain’s neuroplasticity and capacity to heal with strategies to increase cross brain connectivity, ending with an example of this from my own personal experience of being assaulted on two different occasions.
There is a great deal of discussion in Trauma-Informed Care about cross brain connections, neural pathways that connect throughout the different areas of the brain, leading to a greater capacity for self-regulation and smooth emotional state shifting in response to environmental cues. Brain development begins in utero, developing sequentially from the bottom to the top and from the inside out in response to sensory input. The first part of the brain to develop is the brainstem, which is responsible for regulating autonomic functions like heart rate, breathing, blood pressure, body temperature, sleep, and appetite. We generally do not have to think about these functions unless something goes wrong with them (during an asthma or heart attack, for example). The brainstem, which as its name suggests, is at the base of the brain, is responsible for basic survival and is where our fight, flight and freeze responses originate in response to a trauma trigger.
The next region of the brain to develop is the diencephalon, which regulates motor control. (When the freeze response is triggered by the brainstem it indicates that the diencephalon, as well as all of the regions of the brain above it, have essentially gone “offline”). Following that is the limbic system, which regulates our emotions and makes us capable of attachment and relational connection. The last part of the brain to develop is the neocortex, which allows for abstract and concrete thought, impulse control, planning and other aspects of executive functioning. The neocortex may not be fully developed and functional until well into a person’s second decade of life.
Trauma can be defined as input that is arrhythmic and unpredictable. If a pregnancy is unwanted, or the mother is in a chaotic environment due to poverty and domestic violence, or she struggles with a mental disorder or uses drugs, for example, the fetus is exposed to a barrage of arrhythmic sensory input in the womb. The mother’s heart-rate may be irregular, the cadence of her voice may be harsh or distressed, and her body may be secreting stress chemicals like cortisol and adrenaline that acid washes the womb for nine months. The part of the brain that receives the most sensory input will be the most well developed, as the neurons flock there in response to continuous activation. A baby experiencing intra-uterine trauma of any sort will be born prepared for survival, with most of his or her neurons clustered in the lower regions of the brain. A baby whose gestation was full of rhythmic, predictable sensory input from his mother’s well-regulated heartbeat, calm voice, and soothing chemicals like dopamine, serotonin, and oxytocin, will be born with up to fifty percent of his neurons having migrated to the neocortex, ready for language and learning. Intra-uterine trauma primes the baby’s brain to form local connections in the lower regions of the brain in anticipation of being born into a chaotic, unpredictable environment. The foundation for future development is compromised, and any subsequent trauma layers on top of this shaky substrate to create a brain muscled up for survival and reactivity, with few cross brain connections allowing for a regulated, integrated response to environmental or relational stimuli.
Dr. Bruce Perry points out that trauma interferes with what he terms smooth “state shifting,” referring to the ability of the brain to communicate between all of its regions to come up with the best response to deal with the situation at hand. Healthy brain development allows a person to accurately interpret input and respond appropriately based on what is actually happening in the present. In the case of a car careening into your lane of traffic, the amygdala sounds the alarm in the limbic system, the diencephalon kicks in and prompts you to quickly maneuver out of the way, and the brainstem briefly shuts down unnecessary functions like digestion that would divert energy away from dealing with the crisis. The neocortex, which would unnecessarily delay the response time, essentially goes offline. Whether the car barreling towards you is a Mercedes or a Chevrolet is completely irrelevant to your survival. Determining the color, make or model of the vehicle occupies precious time and attention that keeps you in harm’s way longer than necessary and compromises your ability to keep yourself safe. When cross-brain connections are absent, and the different regions of the brain lack neural pathways to communicate efficiently, the array of responses a person has is limited. A traumatized individual might get stuck in his brainstem, lose access to his diencephalon, freeze, and be unable to turn the steering wheel, incurring a collision with the oncoming car.
This is essentially what happened to me when I was assaulted in my early 20’s in Golden Gate Park in San Francisco. I was using a public restroom when a man who apparently had been hiding in the stall next to mine burst under the dividing wall and attacked me. I completely froze. I could not move, cry out, or think of how to defend myself. I never reported the assault or pursued any kind of help afterward. I simply left it buried in my brainstem and used my already active eating disorder and dissociative pathways to cope. When I unexpectedly became pregnant with my first child three years later, I realized my unhealthy patterns were going to affect my baby in damaging ways. Facing the huge responsibility of carrying and then caring for a child provided the incentive I needed to pursue healing in so many areas of my life. Although I worked hard on my recovery, my very stubborn pathways for dissociating from strong emotions and avoiding what I perceived to be the dangers of intimacy remained strong.
When I discovered Natural Lifemanship, I knew these principles of relational connection and partnership were the missing pieces to my healing puzzle. I was initially dismayed to find how much I struggled to experience connection in the round pen with the horses, but as I kept practicing asking for attachment and detachment, I found over time that I was starting to feel my emotions and body sensations more consistently and accurately, both with horses and with people. Through both ground (Relationship Logic) and mounted work (Rhythmic Riding), I strengthened the cross brain connections necessary to stay regulated and grounded without checking out in stressful situations. My sense of peace and confidence and ability to stay present and connected to myself continued to grow.
Last year all of this was put to the test when I was out running in my neighborhood early in the morning. I heard footsteps behind me on a narrow stretch of sidewalk bordered by tall hedges and a railing on either side and turned sideways, thinking another runner wanted to pass me. Instead, he grabbed me by the shoulders, muttered the word “sorry” and threw me to the ground. My brain immediately went into gear. Just the night before I had shared a public service announcement from the Austin Police Department with my running group concerning a sexual predator who had been assaulting female runners. I could literally see the list of suggestions in my mind and began sorting through them. “Make noise,” my brain said, and I started screaming as loud as I could. My assailant covered my mouth with his hand. “Fight back,” my brain commanded, and I shook one of my arms free and tried to push him off. As he tightened his grip, I remembered, “Strike where he is most vulnerable,” so I started reaching towards his groin area as best as I could. His eyes widened in surprise and he suddenly let go of me, slamming my head into the pavement. I don’t know how long I lost consciousness, but as I came to, I heard a voice shouting, “Get up! Get up! You have to get up NOW!” I realized the voice was my own; it was my brain, telling me I needed to mobilize in case he came back. I was able to get up and wobble up the hill until I met another runner who took me to her house and called 911.
I reported this assault. I went to the emergency room, made a statement to the police, and described the suspect to a forensic artist who captured his likeness quite accurately. I engaged in therapy, and spent hours in the round pen with horses, crying, connecting, and healing. I shared my experience with my running group and put together a tip sheet for runner safety, which I shared with other running groups in the area. I attended a self-defense class. Despite the temptation to revert to old patterns of dissociating from my fear and pain, I practiced feeling all the emotions in the aftermath of this trauma, letting myself weep when the detective called to say my suspect’s DNA was found on another victim. I gave myself permission to be scared, sad, and also proud. Proud that I had done the hard work to develop the cross brain connections that allowed me to fight back instead of freezing during my second assault. During my therapy for this attack, I was able to process my first one as well.
Cross brain connections are essential for flexible thinking and appropriate responses. Practicing mindfulness and grounding skills on a regular basis allows these neural pathways to develop and strengthen in a brain compromised by arrhythmic, unpredictable input. Research continues to highlight the neuroplasticity of the brain in response to rhythmic sensory input that allows it to heal and integrate following trauma. Expanding local connections into cross brain connections enhances our ability to experience emotional regulation so that we can build healthier, more satisfying relationships with ourselves and with others.
How does one build or repair cross brain connections?
A daily practice of mindfulness (meditation, yoga, or centering prayer, for example) has been shown to improve brain connection and functioning. Exposure to reparative or corrective relational experiences also contributes to building neural pathways from the lower to the upper regions of the brain. Trauma victims often repeat dysfunctional patterns in the relationship due to compromised neural connections in the brain, reinforcing their trauma pathways. Equine Assisted Psychotherapy involves partnering with a horse to provide opportunities for new pathways to form a healthy relationship is built between horse and human under the guidance of a therapist and equine specialist. Clients learn how to build and sustain healthier relationship patterns as their brains literally re-wire through the experiential component of the therapeutic work with the horses. Through a combination of ground and mounted work, a person can learn self-regulation skills, positive coping resources, and begin to heal from their trauma.
What are cross brain connections good for? At some point, they just might save your life.
Although I had been informed ahead of time that the white Egyptian Arabian mare we were working with for our Natural Lifemanship Intensive Training had some facial deformities and neurological issues, I was surprised by the strength of my visceral response when I actually saw her in person for the first time. She snorted through one working nostril perched on a jaw that veered off to the left, leaving her tongue dangling with seemingly no place to rest. Her face just looked so . . .wrong. I felt a variety of emotions: pity, sadness, alarm, revulsion and a desire to turn away, layered with shame and self-condemnation for my instinct to do so. I was both amused and repelled by her name: Dollface. It seemed to draw attention to her deformity without dignifying it anyway. The training participants gave a collective gasp as they approached her pen, and began murmuring among themselves. I knew working with Dollface would challenge all of us in interesting ways. I was curious how her physical appearance would influence how both the horses and humans involved in the training responded to her. Over the course of the training I observed the following:
Over-compensation for a perceived disability
Many people were afraid to approach Dollface or make relational requests. They felt pity for her and didn’t want to make her uncomfortable or challenge her. “Her life is already hard enough,” was a prevailing sentiment. Giving Dollface a pass on taking responsibility for herself had led to a series of behaviors that were damaging her relationships. She was pushy, demanding, and reactive when approached or touched. She clearly wanted to engage but did not know how to do so in an appropriate manner. This left her without the friendships she desired, both from horses and humans. People with disabilities or special needs often report that others make false assumptions about their intelligence or capacity to interact “normally” and treat them like children, speaking slowly and carefully, avoiding eye contact, and acting in a generally uncomfortable manner.
Lack of acknowledgment
In an effort to not treat Dollface differently, some people went to the other extreme of acting as though she was the same as the rest of the horses, hiding or denying any internal discomfort or uncertainty about how to approach her. This set up an emotional incongruence that felt unsafe and confusing for Dollface. She was different. Her appearance did take getting used to. Horses are prey animals, and experience an incongruence between our inner emotional state and our exterior presentation as dangerous and possibly predatory. Acknowledging the reality of the situation and any discomfort we might have about it is an important first step to proceeding in a way that is healthy for the relationship. We first have to become aware of and accept our own prejudices and preconceived notions before we can work on changing them.
Making assumptions
Dollface had experienced some early trauma besides being born with a facial deformity. She was removed from her home after a murder-suicide by a rescue organization that cared well for her physical needs but expected little from her in terms of appropriate behavior due to her history and disability. Because little was expected, little was required, resulting in what you would expect from a spoiled child: selfish behavior. Although this might look like kindness on the surface, horses and humans who are entitled and selfish do not have mutually satisfying relationships. They are tolerated rather than enjoyed. At first I heard a lot of reasons why Dollface shouldn’t be asked to do much relational work in the round pen due to being tired, overwhelmed, or uncomfortable. When people stopped making excuses for Dollface and began asking her in a predictable, consistent, patient manner to stop squealing, biting and being aggressive, she became more regulated and able to connect relationally in delightful ways.
Differences in acceptance between horses and humans
Initially, I wondered how the horses might react to having Dollface in their midst. Only one of them had been with Dollface prior to the training. For the rest of them, she was a newcomer, so I was curious if they might perceive her birth defect as a threat to the safety of the herd. Horses depend on every member of their herd to be appropriately in control of themselves and aware of potential predators and other threats so that collectively they can maintain safety. None of the horses seemed to notice that Dollface was a bit different from them. Other than a bit of interest from one of the geldings when he discovered Dollface was in heat, they treated her exactly as they did each other. They expected her to behave like an appropriate herd member, and let her know when she did not.
Differences in self-acceptance
Apparently, no one ever told Dollface she was different. She saw herself as a completely normal and functional horse. She did not hide herself from either the people or other horses at the training. In fact, her behaviors involved attention seeking; she was not shy about demanding that we spend time with her. She had learned to eat, drink water, breathe and move with her twisted jaw and now that she was learning some relationship skills was also learning to make friends and have mutually satisfying connections.
By the end of the training, we had overcome our reservations about working with Dollface. Our prejudices and fears had been challenged by her self-confidence and insistence that we treat her like a normal horse. One of the participant’s re-named her Hope. That seemed much more fitting for this spunky, endearing, feisty survivor.
An Experience of Connection Over Prejudice Video
Sign up for our Relationship Logic Immersion training at Horse Sense of the Carolinas September 7th-9th, to get an opportunity to work with an untrained horse like Luna (her new name!). The horses at this training are rescue horses that have a story and a past – we hope to positively contribute to their successful placement in a “Forever Home” by helping them develop needed emotional and relational skills. Through this process, participants can deeply internalize NL principles of connection and learn how these transfer to human relationships, including the therapeutic relationship and process. There is a possibility that Luna, will be participating in the training.
As I entered the 2017 Natural Lifemanship Conference I felt very small, and insignificant compared to others there. I felt the need to make myself humble, kind and help out to be seen by others. This was the agenda of my 4yo little girl self that insisted that she must sacrifice her own needs, thoughts and ideas and voice to meet these things in others in order to get attention. She believed the only way to get attention and love is by catering to others and sacrificing yourself.
During the conference, I was fighting to be true and authentic and not fall into this agenda to get attention through submission. As I did so, the tension in my shoulders increased throughout the day. A self-regulation exercise at the conference revealed the tension in my shoulders was connected to the 4-year old self. She was pressing hard onto the upper portion of my right shoulder to cause me to submit, cower down and be passive to others at the conference and I was trying to resist her insistence. She wanted me to accept her way to protect me from getting hurt and trying to connect in the only way she knows how through submission. At that moment, I just assured her that I love her, I see her. I explained inwardly it’s safe to explore a new way, but the sharp pain of pressure in my shoulder remained.
Later that evening after the day was done I found a quiet spot to put on my bilateral nature sounds and focus in on my little girl and that pressure in my shoulder. Quietly and with love I entered into how scared and terrified she was. How she was trying to protect me and help me get attention in the only way she knew how and I was resisting her. I just sat in the rocking chair and loved her, held her, rocked her in that terrified-place she was living. I explained to her this new community of connection the NL community offered is pure and allows her
to be completely herself and that she doesn’t need her old ways of cowering. At this exchange, a deep rumbling of weeping arose within my chest. It rose and fell like waves rising and crashing at a deep place within my core. At the same moment, a great sense of gratitude fell over me. I was grateful with all my being to be now offered the love I always deeply desired.
Though my heart desperately had looked for love all these years, I came to rest on the truth that what I was truly seeking was true, pure, connection that sought good for both in the relationship.
That night at the NL conference demonstration, Tim showed with the horse, Jack, how he gently invited the horse to a pure, true connection that offered good for both in the relationship. It was clear from watching how safe and secure that invitation was. I realized that was what Tim offered me that day in February 2017 at the NL Fundamentals Training during the Rhythmic Riding demonstration. Tim offered me a true, pure connection that didn’t take from me, nor demand any part of me that met his needs. He offered me a
connection that had my back, that held me as the horse did and if I couldn’t connect with the horse, it was ok, he would connect and hold the horse. I only had to connect to me and my deep grief. The grief of having no support for so long and the deep desire to be seen and connected. It was there in that moment with a gentle hand on my leg his touch said, “I see you, I’ve got you, it’s ok, just let go and be held.” When I connected to myself and what I was feeling, it was then that the horse met me there with connection and held me from
beneath. I was not alone. I was held by this beautiful horse that carried me on his back and a man that didn’t take from me but offered to be my strength and stability while I fell apart.
That experience was so terrifying, but so deeply satisfying at the same time. I wanted to run from the eyes and attention of everyone that was holding me at that moment. I was so fearful it would turn against me, but it DID NOT, the care and connection were true and secure. That secure holding experience just made me cry deeper in grief of not having it for so long. Now at 40 years of age, I was being offered it freely by a tender, strong and loving cowboy, a beautiful horse, and a crowd of strangers that desired the same kind of connection.
After the NL demonstration at the Natural Lifemanship conference that night, I rocked that scared 4yo inside of my heart. I cried and cried with the grief of so much time gone by without a secure connection and yet I was overflowing with gratitude my body felt it could not contain. With bilateral nature sounds in my ears, chest heaving, tears falling and body rocking, Texas raindrops began to fall on me. I felt as if a deep cleansing and filling was happening as I received the pure connection this community offered and all of me moaned and cried with gratitude. I sat in that place for a long time. Suddenly out of nowhere, I felt a pop in my shoulder and the pressure that 4yo girl held on me was released. With clothes damp and rain diminishing the thunderous shaking within me softened and became like a soothing lullaby. My eyes closed and a soft sadness fell from that little girl inside. She realized her attempt to protect me had hurt me and kept me from connecting truly with others. With soft whispers and loving kindness, forgiveness and grace was exchanged. Peace within us was found and connection deepened to a quiet place.
As I looked out into the darkness of that cool Texas night I felt a nearby presence that approached more as I moved through this inner exchange. In this quiet place, I realized it was the paint horse I met in the pasture the day before. He was the lowest in the herd and approached them with a fearful submissive stance. I noticed his position then and my 4yo little girl could relate with his position and loved him for it.
That night as inner peace was found, this paint horse stood nearby in the pasture, almost there to acknowledge and honor the little girl he met the day before. I was drawn to get up and go near the fence and show my gratitude for his appearing. As I walked in the darkness in his direction I could feel my attention on him made him uneasy. In honor of his concern, I turned my body parallel to him and looked away, yet stayed connected to him in my heart. I knelt toward the grass to make myself even less threatening and listened as He grazed even closer to me. My little girl self so wanted to have a physical contact with him, but inwardly extended honor and gratitude for him seeing her and honoring her at her most vulnerable.
In desperate waiting for more closeness, out of the darkness the black lead mare ran between us and moved the paint horse far away from me. At that moment, my little girl fell away and my adult self stood up and appeared along the fence. I was shocked and saddened, but also realizing that black lead mare just gave me a precious gift. She reminded me I am no longer a scared submissive little girl, I am a confident and beautiful woman that doesn’t need sympathy but encouragement to move forward, walk boldly and be me. As I made my way to the bunkhouse and prepared for bed that night, I heard a whinny out in the pasture. I felt called to meet it. When I arrived at the fence the black lead horse stood close to the fence and grazed while I stood beside her. Her presence assured me, all was ok and I did not need reassurance from anyone that my experience and my healing release needed validation. All was good in the pasture and she was calling me to graze on and just confidently be me.
Frieda kicked out, ears back, black and white tail lifted high. She was clearly not happy about the pressure that Natural Lifemanship founder and Equine Professional Tim Jobe was putting on her to ask for connection. Tim explained that Frieda had spent the whole 12 years of her life occupying a pasture near a mobile home park, where the residents and their children petted her and gave her apples. No one had ever asked her for anything in return, until now. Frieda started out by pointedly ignoring Tim when he began asking for attachment. When he brought his body energy up a bit and made a smooching sound with his lips, she promptly burst into a frenzy of bucking and kicking as if in disbelief that he would continue to make this (in her mind) ridiculous request. I watched Frieda’s spirited display of resistance, which reminded me of a child’s tantrum, while Tim continued to keep the pressure the same by maintaining his proximity to Frieda no matter where she went in the round pen and directing the same amount of body energy from his core, directed now towards her side, in a request for detachment (connection with some space, or a boundary).
One of the training participants asked if it wouldn’t be better for Frieda to be allowed to just continue enjoying her peaceful life of being petted and given treats. Why should we upset her by requesting something clearly only we humans wanted, and she did not seem to value at all? I thought about this question. I generally avoid conflict, and it can be difficult for me to ask for things in a relationship that I know might be considered inconvenient or difficult for the other person to give. I sometimes settle for less than I should in a situation simply because asking for what I need feels “too hard.” I felt a bit sorry for Frieda too, actually. In the weeks that followed, I did a great deal of soul searching about this principle of the Natural Lifemanship model: If it is not good for both parties in the relationship, it is not good for the relationship itself. How was asking for a connection from a human or horse who seemed unwilling and unhappy about giving it still good for the relationship? I came up with the following reasons:
1. Experiencing a healthy connection enhances the quality of life
Both humans and horses experience better physical, emotional, and mental health when they know how to have a positive connection with others. Connection builds cross brain connections which allow for responding (making choices from the neocortex informed by the limbic system) instead of reacting (from the brainstem where the only options are fight, flight, or freeze). Horses who are able to access the thinking part of their brain engage in fewer skirmishes in the herd, resulting in a decreased risk of injury from being kicked or bitten. The experience of connection in a relational context releases dopamine in the brain, which creates a feeling of well being. Humans also benefit from healthy connection: research shows that people with a strong social support network live longer with fewer health problems than those who are more isolated.
Domestic horses depend on humans for food, shelter, and care. The more they can access their neocortex in cooperating with their human caregivers, the better their experiences with humans is likely to be. People respond more positively to friendly horses, keep them longer, and are able to give them the medical care they require if they are allowed to touch their ears, hooves, and other parts of the body to give medicine, as well as perform massage or other therapeutic touches. Horses who have not been helped to be comfortable with being touched all over their bodies may not receive the care they need when sick or injured. Reactive horses tend to have multiple owners and often end up in bad situations as people give up on trying to manage their behaviors. Connections between horses in the herd also change. Joey, a wild mustang at Spirit Reins, was not a part of the herd until clients began choosing him as their relationship horse. Now, Joey allows and engages in mutual grooming behaviors with some herd members. This has increased Joey’s safety and sense of well being as he becomes part of the herd.
3. Healthy connection heals trauma
Both humans and horses may avoid intimacy because they have learned that relationships are a source of pain rather than comfort. At some point, they may have decided that requests for connection will only lead to harmful interactions, and find ways to avoid intimacy as a form of self-protection. Healing this broken pathway through patient, persistent work on attachment and detachment results in restoring trust in relationships as a safe place to be both seen and known. Our deepest desire as humans is to be fully known and fully accepted. Trauma destroys any hope that this is possible. Inviting connection using the principles of pressure rewires the brain to have a different response, unfreezing the trauma and allowing it to process through for both horses and humans.
We can co-regulate with those whom we have positive, trusting relationships. Attunement in relationships allows us to give and receive comfort to each other. Any stressful situation immediately feels less overwhelming if we don’t feel so alone in it. Connection helps calm and soothe us when we are distressed.
Biologically we are driven towards connection. Both human infants and foals depend upon their mothers or early caregivers for survival and learn how to get their needs met either in positive or negative ways depending upon the environment they are born into. Even those who struggle with intimacy due to abuse or neglect experience a consistent conflict around the internal drive to seek connection while simultaneously fearing the result of doing so. On a primal level we know we need relationships to survive, so we set about creating the only kinds of relationships we know how to have which often results in a serial pattern of maltreatment and heartbreak. As we rewire the brain through a healthy connection we increase our capacity to experience positive emotions which results in a positive synergy: positive connection building more cross brain connections which build more opportunity for positive connection. Symptoms of anxiety and depression diminish as deeper and more satisfying connections are achieved.
While it can seem more benevolent not to initiate or persist in asking for connection with a being who appears disinterested or resistant, I realized that avoiding the work of connection indicates a devaluing of self, the other, and the relationship. I am not seeing that I have enough inherent value to make the request, or that the horse/human has enough value for me to pursue them. In other words, if I am more interested in self-protection than pursuing the relationship I am choosing the relative comfort of isolation over the deeper comfort of intimacy. I am essentially demonstrating that the relationship is not worth investing my time and energy in and that I am not willing to risk initially being ignored and/or rejected as I seek to build the relationship.
When Frieda eventually tired of galloping and bucking around the ring, she slowed down and seemed to consider Tim’s quiet, persistent request for connection. She stopped and swung her beautiful head toward him, wide-eyed and snorting, ears flicking back and forth. Tim immediately stepped back to release the pressure and let Frieda know that her choice was good for the relationship. Frieda considered for a few moments longer, then took that long-awaited step towards Tim. He stepped back a bit more. Frieda changed her mind a few more times along the way, going back to ignoring and resisting, before realizing that maybe attachment felt better than running away. By the end of the session, Frieda was walking comfortably alongside Tim, resting her head on his arm occasionally, and turning her big brown eyes to him as if to say that this was her idea all along. Frieda finally realized that a healthy connection can feel safe and enjoyable.
In 2015 my partner, Matt, and I purchased Dandelion Farm and moved Discovery Horse and our herd of 8 horses home in the late fall. I had been anticipating this day since 1998. I was terrified and excited. I was committed to find a way to live and work with my horses that felt good for everyone. That encouraged us all to grow and be accountable. That felt safe and equal. That fostered connection. I was committed to listen, to make mistakes, to apologize and I was committed to showing up. 
Enter Natural Lifemanship. In June of 2017 Discovery Horse hosted a NL fundamentals training at our farm. Our trainers for the weekend, Reccia and Claire, presented the attendees with a challenge . . . a request . . . they asked us to believe, for the weekend, that horses could make choices. I’m not sure . . but I think I might have actually ‘whooped’ in agreement. As the weekend progressed I felt as though Reccia and Claire were speaking my language while at the same time opening my mind to a whole new way of supporting my clients, my animal partners and myself, from a place of science and principals that made absolute sense and fell in total alignment with how we had been operating at Discovery Horse. And I found a community that honors the horse as an equal partner and views our connection with horses as not only foundational to our work, but as real and vibrant relationship in its own right. I left that weekend feeling empowered by the fact that I wasn’t alone.
I have been very impressed with the depth and professionalism the certification process provides. I am a business owner, coach, horse professional, mom and spouse and the flexible learning platform made it possible to add this to my already full life in a successful way. The community itself is exceptional. The conference was one of the best I have attended, providing staggering amounts of information and representing all facets of equine-assisted professionals. Tim and Bettina truly foster a non-competitive environment focused on growth and learning. The word ‘authentic’ rings true at a deep level. It is clear that this is a community committed to doing the kind of work that changes lives.
Other than the fact that Pete lives at Miracle Farm, we knew nothing about him. We were excited, and began the process of attuning our senses to Pete’s non-verbal communication, his rhythm, his desires and his ability to connect when asked. It was Leslie’s job to establish our first connection and to obtain his consent in putting on a halter, but only five minutes into the process we knew one thing more – when asked to connect Pete can be aggressive. Ears pinned, nose out, and at a fast pace, he moved toward Leslie. He made it very clear how he felt about connection with us and our request for relationship!
Over the next three days, Leslie, Pete and I climbed what seemed to be a staircase. With each step up – and often when we felt like we’d left the aggressive behavior behind – Pete brought it out again. At first we were shocked, certain that we had overcome that on the previous step! By Saturday afternoon we kept seeing the same pattern emerge. Every time we moved forward with deeper connection Pete became very uncomfortable. His stress started to rise and the negative behavior returned, however now a new adaptation was added: whenever the stress reached a certain point, Pete started to pump his hind legs up and down. We thought that he was trying to regulate, but dang! Was all of this too much? Should we slow down? Should we speed up? What? Clearly, Pete was not the only one going through this process, and Leslie and I learned to open ourselves to the feedback from each other. Whenever one of us began to doubt the process or our attempts to move through it, the other filled in with support. We often wondered if it was Pete’s behavior that was causing the defensiveness in our own brains and bodies, or – was it the other way around?
By Sunday morning, we were not sure that our rhythmic ride was going to happen by the afternoon. We were open to all possibilities and stayed committed to an attuned connection with Pete. However, by mid-morning, Pete had said “yes” to the bareback pad, and so it was time to ask if we could ride. Like all of the previous steps, he aggressively said “no” at first, only this time we got to “yes” much quicker. I was the first to ride, and within minutes we were fluidly moving around the pen. We found stop, go, left and right without the use of my hands or reins. Leslie had the same type of ride. We exhaled and broke for lunch early. The three of us had overcome what had once been a brick wall boundary – together.
After lunch, we saddled up, and it came as no surprise that Pete provided us with the opportunity to work through some more stress. But now, his former aggressiveness had changed to just a little bit of defensiveness. Once again, I was the first to step on and this time there was nothing to work through! Pete and I headed to the big arena, both of us a little nervous for the unknown that lay ahead. Two songs played as we warmed up in a walk, and then my first song (“Fly” by Celine Dion) came on. Pete and I found our Rhythm quickly, but I honestly have no idea how we did it. There was no technique involved; we just felt each other. We found a walk and a trot beautifully, and – somewhere in that song – we found trust. We were totally connected, both of us feeling the power of the moment.
At the end of this type of immersive experience there is usually an opportunity to reflect on and talk about all that you have learned. It is these final moments of the training that Leslie and I learned a little more about Pete. He had participated in these type of trainings before, but he had never been able to complete them. His aggressive and defensive behavior had been evident, but he had also displayed signs of colic (stomach ache), severe diarrhea, and lameness. In fact, Pete had recently seen three different veterinarians in the farm’s attempt to figure out what was causing the lameness issues. They saw it, but could not find any medical reason for it.
This was an intense weekend. At each step along the way we had to be willing to risk the relationships we had developed to see if we could take them one step further, one step healthier. This is the work that our clients – individuals who have experienced complex trauma in their own lives – their families, and their friends must be willing to do in order to heal and regain their life and relationships.
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