For some, the holidays bring joy and a rich connection with family, friends, God, and memories of holidays past.For others, holidays shine a bright light on grief, loneliness, and disconnection.With the holidays approaching, I have been thinking more about connection and. . . technology.It isn’t news that technology has made real human connection much more difficult, in many ways.The older generations shake their heads and say, “back in the day. . .,”BUT I also think technology has something to teach us about human connection.I hope you enjoy my musings.
I have grown to really love my Bluetooth noise canceling headphones. I wear them when I head to the gym to work out, go for runs or walks, and even when I mow. It is so simple. Press the power button and a lovely voice comes on and says. . .“connected”. I did not realize the power of that phrase until just recently when I had forgotten I turned off the Bluetooth option on my phone.
I have a morning routine of driving to the gym, staring at the entrance of the gym (thinking that maybe I can watch someone else workout and get the benefits), and then deciding to put on my headphones, get into gear and hit the gym.However, this particular morning, as I sat in my car following my usual routine, I hit the power button for my headphones and waited. . . then I waited some more. . . I shut the headphones off thinking something was wrong with them.Then, I turned them back on and. . . waited again.I sat waiting for that lovely voice to tell me I was connected. That’s when it dawned on me that I must have done something to my phone. So, I went into the settings, hit the Bluetooth button and. . .waited some more.When it began telling me it was “searching for device” I realized that something must be wrong. Why is my connection taking so long? What is wrong with the phone?What’s wrong with the headphones?That’s when I realized that this amazing Bluetooth device was helping me understand a bit more about connection.For countless weeks, I had gone through the same procedure to ensure the phone and the headphones were connected, yet today something was different.The connection had failed and it took some work to fix it.That’s when I began to see just how much the struggle with the connection applied not only to my headphones but also to my life.
I had taken for granted the connection between my phone and headphones.It was usually easy. With the click of a button I had connection.However, on this occasion, it was not easy.In the midst of my frustration, I began to ponder just how difficult healthy, genuine relational connections really are. They take work—hard work.I have been spoiled in life by how quickly we can connect to things—WiFi, TV, cell phones and various Bluetooth devices.I began to wonder what these things are incorrectly teaching us about connection?
I was finally able to connect my phone and headphones and complete my morning workout.However, in relationships, connection is not always guaranteed.What do we do when the connection with self or someone else appears to be “offline”? How do we troubleshoot when connection with self and others doesn’t seem to be happening like we thought it should?As I wrestled with these thoughts, I began to realize that we have several options. For example, I could have blamed the headphones and thrown them away.I could have gotten mad at the phone and thrown it out the window.I could have reset both the phone and headphones so they would be able to effectively communicate with one another.What is your go-to reaction when connection does not work the way you had planned?
Healthy connections are hard.It takes two willing participants to do the troubleshooting when the connection seems off.What does that look like for us?How do we troubleshoot in these situations?As we head into the holidays, here are a few of my thoughts.
Connection with self comes first.In order to have a healthy connection with someone else, I must first have a healthy connection with myself.This means taking the time to get to know yourself and to genuinely love yourself.It also means that we have to take time to stay regulated.I think we’ve all experienced a Wifi connection that is super weak and inconsistent.This is a prime example of someone who needs to regulate in order to connect.I can give someone a superficial connection from a place of dysregulation, but if I want true, authentic connection, it must be done from a place of regulation.This is a critical part of my troubleshooting when connection seems off.What steps can I take to regulate myself so connection is more authentic and genuine?
During another trip to the gym while I was working out and enjoying my podcast, my headphone battery began to die.As the podcast continued, the headphones would say “please charge device.”It said this for several minutes before the headphones powered down.Sadly, my workout quickly ended so I could hurry to the car and recharge the headphones.Another valuable lesson about genuine connection. . . In order to have a connection you must keep your “battery of life” charged.I can try as hard as I want to connect the phone and the headphones, but if either device is low on power, the connection just won’t work.How is your “battery of life”?What are you doing to recharge your battery so you are more capable of genuine, healthy connections?
Years ago, an incredible movie called “What About Bob?” came out.In the movie, Bill Murray likens relationships to phones.Sometimes the phone is out of order and you need to try again later.Sometimes the phone is cut off and there is no chance of getting through.This approach is applicable here in regards to connection.At times, the connection may be offline due to the other person needing to do his or her own work.When this occurs, we simply note that we should take care of ourselves and try that connection again later.Then at times we come across relationships that are cut-off and it’s time to recognize that trying to connect in that relationship is not healthy.
In a society of instant gratification, we are accustomed to quick “connections”.Recently, I was talking on my cell phone and I happened to walk by my car that I had just started.As I approached the car, my phone connected to the car while I was standing outside the car trying to continue the conversation.I had not asked for that connection, it just happened.On other days, no matter what I try, the phone and car will not connect!I am sure that you can relate and get frustrated as well when one device won’t connect with another.In those moments of frustration, let’s pause, take a deep breath, and reflect on what we are doing to better connect with ourselves and with others.Let’s take those moments of reflection to help us become more capable of having healthy, genuine connections with self and others.If we fail to do this, we will hear “searching for device”.My hope is that this holiday season we will hear a lovely voice saying “connected” as we truly connect in the relationships that matter the most.
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.
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!
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.
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.
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