Summer of Connection

It’s been a while.

June was busy. Odys and I had our first sanctioned show and it came with some big learning experiences to work through. The most standout one was finding our rhythm, on course but also in our relationship. Fatigue got the better of us by the last day of the show, and this brought up some residual tension for me I think left over from a decade ago when I paused my competition career.

Working through this myself I found a sense of codependency in Odys and I’s relationship. The expectation had crept in, and with it the anxiety and fears that in reflection were shadows from the past more than accurate predictions for the future. Isn’t that the case with so much of tension, though? I so often find in myself and I’m my clients that physical or emotional tension is created in resistance, and also in expectation. It’s something that exists outside the present and continuously pulls us away from presence.

Starting our June off reflection on the tension I found in myself, and directed towards Odys, was a kick off point for some major personal insight. With a busy month in the clinic, on top of bringing back travel work for the first time in a couple years, I ended the month in one of my favourite areas of the country (Calgary) teaching at a friends facility and spending some quality time with a close mentor, friend and therapist of my own.

What started as a work trip quickly evolved into a personal retreat. By the time I hit the road for this trip I was harbouring, and ruminating on some heavy experiences in my body and mind. Nothing like a long road trip full of long worn days to support that processing (insert sarcasm).

The time away did end up being a supportive experience, though. It gave me a chance to disconnect from Odys in a healthy way and reconnect with myself. Heading west is so often a chance for me to connect to myself in a progressive way; supported doubly by connecting with friends and mentors while there. After some amazing experiences with clients, and profound experiences on the receiving end of support myself, I returned home connected deeply back into my body and my purpose.

Odys seemed to have had his own chance to decompress and renew while I was away, and reconnecting to him on returning home felt like we had both levelled up in a way that matured our relationship dynamic. Just in time for our second sanctioned show!

I went into this show with a different perspective and game plan. I decided to do just one class a day, in our lower division, with the intention of becoming specialists at that height.

This, I think, was the best decision I have made yet! We made it through all four days with energy to spare, and each round improved on the last. We found our rhythm, we boosted confidence and we depend our connection. Icing on the cake was placing in the top six in 2/3 of our classes in large competitive rosters of about 30 competitors. We ended the weekend with our first mini Prix, and toon home a 5th place. Our rides since this show have been deeply connected, meaningful sessions that allow that line of trust and confidence to continue evolving.

July so far has been focused on building new fitness on top of the foundation we had going into the summer. I am working personally on grounding practices as a regular daily thing, and it’s amazing to feel how this is translating to my presence in the saddle.

Every little change I am finding and shifting in my body has been allowing the same type of shift for Odys. For the rest of the summer I am holding the intention of leaning into connecting to myself differently, and noticing how the impacts my connection to Odys and other aspects in my life.

Next up for us is heading west together, this time, to Rocky Mountain Show Jumping for two shows back to back in August. I am very much looking forwards to taking Odys to my happy place.

Training Diaries: Containment

Spring is (maybe?) here after false spring and third winter have passed and as such the outdoor sand ring was ready to play in! Our first sunny and warm day yet this year and so play we did.

The intention Odys and I ended up working with this afternoon was “containment”.

As it was the second time for us working outdoors since last year, I expected some fresh horse shenanigans. After a quiet groom session and tacking up with lunge gear we headed out to the ring.

Our first obstacle was the fact that we had a friend in the ring, another horse being lunged. Odys considers himself the all mighty gelding on the property, and a friend sometimes equals a friend to be conquered when we’re in fresh environments. So we began…

Walking a small circle was the tolerance level for focus to start. Gradually I experimented with some transitions to trot, quickly coming back to a walk once focus seemed to be losing to trying to get friend’s attention. There were some dragon snorts involved here, but eventually we were working at a quality trot. Until…

Horrors.. the friend, who was now an alliance, completed their workout and began leaving the arena. This is how we felt about that abandonment.

And so we returned to a small circle until the strong feelings could be contained once again.

The theme of containment stood out for me today across my work with Odys and my coaching sessions. The first ride outdoors for many, the first sunny day. Stepping out of our physical contained area of the indoor arena and into the wide open. Building the skill of intentional containment within the horse-person dynamic was an asset to be mined.

Containment today was finding ways to work within Odys’s tolerance zone for focus and relaxation. Fresh air, a bigger, wider environment and strong herd instincts are challenges not faced in the same way indoors. Being okay with progressing and regressing within this tolerance zone is what allowed us to end in a good, present place within 45minutes.

Containment in essence emotional and energetic regulation. I was doing my best to serve as an anchor point, guiding the size of the container for Odys depending on where he was present with me. Present meant focused on my cues and relatively relaxed. Within whatever container we had available to us, transitions between and within gaits were my tests for focus and presence. I also spent time intentionally watching Odys’s movement and expression for tension or release, each respectively signifying the tolerance levels at hand.

Of specific note, to me, is that containment isn’t suppression or avoidance. It is simply an evolving space where expression cued and guided how connection was achieved. It requires an understanding of the nervous system based theory of windows of tolerance, and the patience to work within that tolerance threshold relative to the environment at hand. Some of Odys’s reasons for being outside his threshold perhaps didn’t make sense to a human’s logic- but at the end of the day what matters was where we could find presence or curiosity, engagement and where we couldn’t. Working outside that state of engagement is wasted time and energy, whereas working within it and creating space / containment for that process only enhances efficiency.

Earning the trust of a dragon

As I near Odys and I’s two year anniversary of meeting, I am noticing more and more signs of a deepening relationship. The ally ship that we have formed speaks to high trust, effective communication and a sense of equality.

Something that I’ve sat with a lot since re-entering horse-personship as an adult is the act of relationship building. Is it possible to build a foundational relationship with our horse when the sport’s norms have for so long been one sided in nature?

Of course, most (I like to think) riders and trainers have good intentions, and I know for myself in the past I’ve met my horse partners limitations and emotionally burnt out trying to ask more from them in ways they couldn’t give. From the start with Odys I wanted there to be a sense of agency and sovereignty for us both. It’s been quite the journey understanding what that means in our partnership and for us as individuals.

A guidepost for me throughout the journey was noticing consistently Odys’s willingness to be present with me. Simple things like will he come to me, or connect with me when I enter his paddock. When we lunge does he run on autopilot or does can we connect and work together, does he hear me when I ask or initiate a communication or does is he too anxious to tune into the moment? When I free lunge will he let me walk up to him or walk to me, follow me or does he keep his distance (this was a big one for me, probably because I grew up reading Heartland lol). He has always had strong expression of suspicion and of emotionality when he is unsure, so for me it’s a big signature of the relationship when he demonstrates things opposite in nature.

The first year of our relationship was spent helping him feel into his physicality, in safe ways for us both. And the second year was focused on feeling into what we found in his body, and his emotions, in safe ways for us both. During both these periods we learned each other’s languages. We laid the foundation for our allyship, which required me to let go of any agenda and hear him. And required both of us to sit with some discomfort from our pasts and deepen our ability for presence.

Lately, we are in a new phase. One of learning to lean into the foundation of trust we have built with each other. The last few times we have free lunged, he approached me. A rare but increasing offering of presence it feels like the past two years have been unwinding to.

That’s what our last few riding sessions have felt like too, and even our competition in March. The conversation is steady, now, and the trust is deepening. Because it can. There’s space for it within us both.

It feels like a new frontier in a sense. I’ve supported him in finding ways to express himself functionally, and in return he is beginning to challenge me to believe in the idea of more. Odys seems to be my guide towards believing in my abilities, just as much as I’ve been that for him.

In perfect timing, we have a visit from my good friend Sarah Southwell (www.sarahsouthwell.com) this week for a clinic. Her bi-annual visits are always transformative and deepening, so I am excited to head into this week’s sessions at this juncture with Odys!

Return to the ring: reflections

Odys and I stepped into the competition ring this past weekend! It was Odys’ first time at an indoor competition, and my return after about a decade off from the show ring.

What a trip. So much has changed, especially within myself, and yet in so many ways it felt like time stood still for a decade.

The technical aspects of returning to it all went all as expected. Outside of some pre-ride anxiety on our first day, and a tentative first round out- the rest of our weekend as a team went above and beyond expectation well. Once the initial jitters were gone for both Odys and I, we made leaps and bounds throughout our remaining rounds- even coming away with a fourth and second place on our second day in our two classes!

The emotional aspect of returning to that environment after an extended break was something I hadn’t quite expected. There was excitement and exhilaration, for sure. Also, though, a lot of old wounds emerging for healing.

So much of my journey so far with Odys aligns with the healing and reconnections with inner child, younger versions of me. With that comes old doubt, insecurities, a sense of loneliness and the threat of abandonment in a few forms.

Where I left riding, specifically competing, off was a place of extreme uncertainty, doubt, burnout as well as many moments of sacrifice when it came to my relationships to others and myself. While much has happened in the past decade to clarify and remedy the superficial burnout, bringing me back to the sport, many of those old wounds have metaphorical scar tissue to work through.

On top of this, much of my own healing journey aligns with the progressions we work through with Odys. All of this is new to him, and while he is keenly interested in showing off and competing by his own nature, he has the tendency to get in his head, can be anxious and impatient, and is highly sensitive to environments including my own internal environment. He in so many ways seems to have entered my life just when I am doing some of my own inner work around relationships, with themes of trust and support.

Experiences like the overall results of this past weekend fill the bank of confidence and trust in my abilities, in my relationship with Odys and the support team involved hands on at the show and on the periphery. There is no doubt in that. The metaphorical scar tissue coming up for me lately seems to be more rooted in questioning my ability to hold onto the meaningful aspects of myself that I am reconnecting with within sport again as well as balance the parts of myself holding up my professional life and my personal life.

Historically I can go all or nothing into one area, and neglect or disengage from others. I’ve lost friends, jobs, romances and parts of myself to be an athlete and I’ve also sacrificed my ambition in the athletic realm, and sometimes even the well being realm, to maintain appearances professionally, build businesses, and foster relationships. The question I am sitting with now, as I feel called back into sport both professionally and for myself, is can I balance it all and still give and receive support?

To you, the reader, this may seem like an ethereal and somewhat privileged problem, as it is full of complexities even I don’t understand and in this moment don’t even really have clarity on the words to use.

There’s an adolescent version of myself that is still hurt by the loss of friends, or at least distancing and disconnection of social experiences that naturally occurred as I focused in on competing and training.

There’s a childhood version of myself that is jumping with excitement at the reality that I am in present day living out her dream of riding a big, attention demanding horse over ever growing jumps.

There’s a young adult version of me cautioning me against the realities of committing to the sport again. Casting doubt on resources, time, and the relational sacrifices that may occur in the extremes.

Alongside all those versions of self is my present day.. doing her best to hold space for it all. And alongside her is Odys, in many ways pulling me forwards and through.

As we head into another competition this coming weekend I am feeling much more open to creating an ally-ship with all that has been and is becoming. We don’t know what we don’t know, until we feel it and the path forwards starts with the next step.

And then?

The past few weeks have felt like a renewal of an old part of myself.

Even amidst a deep freeze here in the home province that made riding and pretty much any un-heated activity not possible, I was able to bring back weight training for myself. Fueled by a steadily building interest in doing things for myself in this sense again. It’s been a long time since athletic pursuits felt good. Probably since before I broke my leg in 2013. After that period I came in and out of things like structured workouts, riding, and other somewhat manic self-care routines but often felt like they were fueling burn out more than they were serving me.

After a few years now spent in self-diagnosed burn out recovery, I feel that part of myself returning. In a sustainable, healthy way. During the deep freeze my coaching partner, friend, client and coach utilized some of that motivation to get into a weight training routine.

Odys spent that time keeping his blanket on for the first time in two years (likely because I’ve discovered the magic of placing a sham blanket on top of his winter blanket, to take the damage). I built in a few sessions of ground work and lunge work, and when the sub -30 temps finally lifted brought back riding. The past couple weeks I’ve been able to do more intense sessions with him both on and off, and he seems to have appreciated the two weeks in deep freeze to mature even more.

He came back to regular work mentally and physically a evolved guy, and our jump sessions within the past two weeks have been inspiring to say the least!

Not only am I feeling stronger and more connected in the tack, I have a motivated team mate. We jumped a 3’3 course Sunday and it felt amazing. Having only jumped half a handful of courses that size, Sunday’s rounds felt more than comfortable and confident. I don’t think it’s a coincidence that the night before, even not knowing I was going to be jumping the next day, I had dreams of Odys and I jumping around a course feeling exactly the way we felt on Sunday.

An interesting experience I had in my lesson last week, prior to this course day, was jumping two jumps on a figure of 8 pattern. Our coach set the jumps high enough to trigger my anxiety, but the nature of the exercise required committing to a set rhythm regardless. The moment the jumps were set bigger (for me), an internal dialogue depicting the worst case scenarios began in my mind. It was like a highlight reel of every gruesome what if. But on the other side, another voice reflected on an anxiety exercise I had recently read about (as of right now I am blanking on where I read about it, will update when I remember): responding to doom-thoughts with the question “and then?”. Leaning into those worst case scenarios.

In the case of the moment I was in, the answer to “and then” was quite simple: if any of those uncontrollable slip ups, or accidents happen, control would be removed from me. In the event of a nasty fall, there’s very little I can do to change the scenario once it’s unfolding. Believe it or not, this was quite a relaxing series of thoughts to have.

After this momentary internal discussion, settling into the exercise became significantly easier. I was able to stay in the present instead of spiraling somewhere outside of my body and the moment.

Fast forward to Sunday’s courses, I felt none of the usual doomsday thoughts creeping in. Instead I felt connected to my body, to Odys and to the task at hand.

The idea of going to a competition setting is becoming much easier to imagine after the past couple weeks. My intentions continuing through January are to continue adding at least 1-2 more rides in the week, time spent with Odys and saving whatever pennies I can towards an upcoming series of shows near the end of February and into March.

One of the challenges for me right now is to lean into and stay within a level of stability. More in the sense of routines, even amidst the unpredictable global environment which on a local level is impacting financial stability and time stability. I’ve come to learn and reflect on in the past few months how uncomfortable the idea of stability, the same old, and steady, non-chaotic progressions are for me. I caught myself this week, being faced with another unpredictably slow week full of cancellations and rescheduled appointments (covid related) manically creating projects, writing half a book, and desperately searching for things to make me feel successful.

This is certainly an old pattern. One that has served and harmed me all at the same time. With compassion, I allowed parts of that habit to exist while gently allowing myself space elsewhere to be aimless, in a sense. Focusing on “non-achievement” based tasks like creative writing, water-color, baking and hanging out with Odys. Along side this I am working to focus on externally controllable tasks like house-hold chores, tidying, and breathing practices to settle my internal-progress, dopamine seeking sides of self. The sides of me that are prone to burn out. I have noticed that focusing on those externals helps to ground me, and when I notice those externals slipping- it’s often a signal to my deeper, internal mental state.

That’s all I’ve got for now to reflect on!

2021: Can Stability be Exciting?

What to say about 2021. As I reflect back on the year as a whole, it seems to be filled with many experiential highs and lows that have settled with an air of neutrality.

Working with my dark horse, Odys, and developing our relationship was certainly part of those highs and lows. I can safely say I have learned more about myself through partnering with Odys than ever before. Our year was largely focused on helping him communicate his emotions more functionally, and learning to listen for myself.

We started the year with many outbursts on his part. Living up to the feared “5-6 year old” year in horse development, it became clear through winter and spring we needed a new language in order to safely move forwards. While I won’t say it was fun most of the time, I will say this time was huge for deepening our relationship and shining light on both of our shit at times.

Photo Credit: Colin Macdonald Photography

I spent more time on the ground (by choice) than riding, and seeing things from this level was pivotal. The power of groundwork was proven when we went off site for the second time ever to a local schooling show, and Odys exceeded all expectations. So much so that by the fall we were schooling courses quite confidently at our home shows and even jumped both of our first ever 1m course to finish off the season.

Photo credit: Colin Macdonald Photography

By November I was feeling that it was my turn to do some serious development as a rider, as Odys had begun surpassing my experiences and skills. This, to be honest, is a really nice place to be. It feels like it’s been a long time since I’ve been challenged in this way and it’s feeding a part of me I’ve missed.

Some other highlights inspired by my deep dive into the world of riding again was taking on more roles at my home barn. In the spring I took on the role of coaching partner. In a really neat, progressive format by our own design we revised the lesson program to include both my skills as a human focused, biomechanics focused riding coach with the facility owners skills as a professional rider, trainer and expert horseperson. Students alternate between us through the month in a collaborative learning format and have access to onsite cross training and therapeutic opportunities. It’s honestly the athletic development format of my dreams and I’m excited to see it continue to develop.

I also took on the role of horse show organizer. We successfully ran two inaugural schooling shows in the outdoor grass ring at the facility and now have a great format to roll more shows our next outdoor season. Selfishly, this was an awesome chance to get myself back into the show ring with very low pressure.

Outside of riding, I became aware of a newfound stability in my life as a business owner and as an individual as a whole. We brought a puppers into our life, Jake, early in 2021 and he’s added even more adventure to our happy home life. The first summer in our new home went smoothly, my first attempt at gardening was productive and in my other career as a therapist there is a new consistency. I spent a lot of the year figuring out the best schedule. Whether it’s because I am wondering my 7th year in practice, the pandemic or settling into my location outside of the city.. there seemed to be a higher demand for my services and I spent the bulk of the year waitlisted and booking weeks out. This is a good thing business wise, but it has certainly taken me some time to balance and boundary my schedule appropriately. A lesson I feel was only possible in stability elsewhere in my life. I no longer have to work myself into burn out, nor do I want to.

Photo credit: Bennett Murphy Photography

We managed to escape for a quick holiday out west in the fall. Certainly a highlight was spending my birthday staying in the iconic Prince of Wales Hotel on the bluff in Waterton National Park. Adding onto this highlight was G popping a ring on my finger while we were there!

Amidst this newfound stability of course there was space to start sitting with the parts of my life that have induced more of a chaotic sense. In stability we finally get a chance to become aware of things differently. Out of survival mode I began to really feel a lot of things I haven’t been safe enough to feel before. This certainly gave birth to some dark moments and shifts in perspective yet all contained within the safety of my support systems. Like Odys, I spent some time learning a new language and awareness to alchemize my past experiences into present wisdom.

Heading into 2022 I feel that I have so many reinforcements in my foundation as an individual and in Odys and I’s foundation as a team.

For the first time in a number of years I am excited about taking care of myself physically and staying organized in my wellness routines. The last few years have felt lopsided in terms of needing more space to compensate and be okay with compensating as a recovery tactic for years prior to that spent in overcompensation, burnout and endless achievement. 2021 seems like a kind of liminal space that contained me safely while helping me experiment with new ways to care for myself. As these learnings birthed a more routine stability, I at first felt almost bored in the lack of chaos. This seems hilarious to write- who gets bored by stability and safety! But when you’ve spent the bulk of your adult life in survival mode (whether out of necessity, learned cultural behaviours or as a method of building something), ending up in what many would perceive as a calm refuge seems suspicious.

I am intentionally moving towards new (new-old?) things in 2022. Pandemic depending we are hoping to attend some of our first shows as a team both in the indoor season schooling shows this winter and then of course the outdoor season through the summer. A month ago if you asked me I would have expressed a comfortable hesitation at showing again, in the last week or so I have began to witness a building excitement at the idea.

This will require a continuation of the newfound caretaking routines I am implementing both in personal wellness and finances. To be honest, being excited feels a lot better than the hesitation I’ve held so far. I am certain that much of that excitement is building because of the exceptional team at BP Sport Horses and community we are building, and of course the ongoing development with Odys.

While it’s impossible to predict what the year ahead holds, I feel a return to some old familiar parts of myself in a new way. The intention I hold for 2022 is a year of ongoing development, rediscovering myself as an athlete in a mindful way and embracing stability as a support, not a boring routine. I am committing to a continuation of steady self care, with the intention of holding space for what grows from that routine. I trust in myself and my abilities to go into new/old experiences like horse shows with an attitude of open experimentation and 2022 will in essence be a year of exposure based experience. For myself and for Odys.

To sum 2021’s wisdom up into one statement: Emotions are an expression of energy designed to keep us safe. Holding onto them for too long only builds the pressure and doesn’t guarantee you control when they release. Control in itself doesn’t promise safety, either.

Photo Cred: Phil Hossack Photography, Wpg Mb

Hoping all reading this are heading into 2022 feeling well and hopeful!

On Connection

It’s been six weeks of ground work only (with the exception of 3 low pressure rides in the last couple weeks) for Odys and I. 

It has been a fascinating unwinding for him. To see him begin to open up his movement and body, build significant connection to his hind end and as a result of those things begin to find a new level of relaxation. He’s gone from a bit *extra* in the tack stall to happy to relax into patience. His presence has somehow gotten bigger, as has his expression.

For me it has been a mix of inspiring, reassuring and at times disconcerting throughout this ongoing process. Inspiring and reassuring because there has been frequent moments of really feeling a positive connection and relationship building moments. Moments where he looks to me for guidance and also guides me towards what he needs in terms of support.

Disconcerting, because at times true connection can feel heavy, angry, conflicting and scary.

Spending time with him last night was one of those more disconcerting moments. To an outside eye this may not align with the image. On the ground he was his new usual relaxed, willing self. I had intended a short ride if there seemed to be acceptance from him and once I got on I was astounded at the different horse I was on top of. 

I’m used to this horse shifting about every six weeks. Over the past year of working with him that’s been the general norm. This was one of those times. Perhaps the first time I’ve had full contact with the new strength and physical connection beginning to arrive in his body. 

It can be unsettling in a way to get on a horse you work so closely with and have to completely reassess your part in a partnership physically and otherwise, so frequently.

Throughout our ride yesterday I routinely felt like emotions were high for Odys. This was one of the things that led us to a dedicated period on groundwork and unlayer work. Nevertheless he stayed in contact with me, even if the vibes he was throwing were at times quite intense.

I felt quite conflicted during and after our ride. On one hand it felt as though I was perhaps pushing him farther than he was wanting/ready to go, even if objectively my ask was quite low. I felt disconnected and even at fault for his emotions (this perhaps foreshadows my own emotional history). 

On another hand it could be philosophized that the things I was feeling coming from Odys were proof that our connection is becoming stronger. There’s a safety in him showing me his inner world in a way that didn’t exist before. Before things would be fine until they weren’t, and I was blindsided by a tantrum from him. Now I can get a sense of his feelings, and even though they aren’t always pleasant they are at least being communicated in a way I can tap into consistently.

Relationships have a way of testing that understanding of connection. Truly being connected doesn’t mean sunshine and butterflies, all the time. It actually means holding space for the conflicts, “negative” emotions and turmoil that inevitably exists in all of us and within a relationship.

Perhaps my sense of being an instigator was wrongly placed where a sense of ally-ship should have been.  In stepping away from strict agendas and expectations I find sometimes when I do set intentions or hope for outcomes I now sometimes feel guilty for expecting anything other than what was. Chalking that up to adjustment pains for now.

In many ways I think it’s safe to say that my ego around riding, specifically riding Odys, is having to re-identify itself. I can get on other horses and feel confident and settled into “who I know myself to be” in the saddle. Odys shakes all that up. It’s confidence shaking and likely a definite sign of growth that will lead us somewhere at some point. Honestly, lately, it feels like early stage dating where theres a constant, low grade anxiety around “do they like me, do they not?”. I did venture into this with the intention of building a rock solid relationship with this horse.. I suppose I’m getting what I wished for (while simultaneously bringing out both of our traumas to heal in the process.).

As with many past experiences I am choosing to move forwards with faith, even when I experience doubt or anxiety. As I always tell my clients “if things are changing, we’re on a path forwards”. Relationship building also means practicing vulnerability, which isn’t always comfortable to either party at first. I think this is the stage we are working with currently.

Non-linear Progress

Just like entrepreneurship, adulthood, injury rehab, art or gardening.. riding and horse-personship is an excellent, humbling journey in non-linear progression.

Re-reading my last post and reflecting on the past few months I can feel old, linear ways of thinking creeping in. Something in recent weeks I have been reminded is a fast way to feel stuck.

If only it were as simple as setting the goal of stepping back into the riding world and achieving all my crazy horse girl dreams!

Working with a horse like Odys is a stark example of steps forwards, pause, perceive things backsliding, then realizing it’s all moving you onwards just in more of a roller coaster style instead of a level, groomed hill.

I left my last post off with the ambition of heading off property for our first time for a jump school. This went as predicted. Low-key, high headed chaos, some trailering dramas, my first fall in about 8 years, Odys reminding me he is a young horse more than once. Amidst all that we managed some really nice rounds around the jump course and all in all survived. Falling off for the first time in a long time (and surviving) was actually a relief. An experience that tends to get built up into intrusive, catastrophic thoughts when left untouched for too long.

In a year now of knowing and partnering with Odys, there are definite trends of fast progress followed by growth spurts and necessary time off or low pressure periods. We will have a major breakthrough, a series of phenomenal rides and be super connected.. and then seemingly out of nowhere a “young horse” thing comes screaming out of the blue, or his body changes and we need to back track a little bit to regroup. None of this has surprised me, however in an industry and society full of linear progression points- sometimes it is easy to get carried away on the thought train of “what am I missing?”.

Odys is also not just any six year old, adolescent phase equine. His earlier years were likely rife with high pressure, no wiggle room expectations. He was bred by an Amish group to become a cart horse. The patterns he’s shown to me would align with old fashioned “breaking” methods that by today’s modern standards to most would classify as abusive. On top of this, he is not a personality that would willingly if ever fit that mold to begin with.

Over the past year I feel that I’ve managed quite successfully to rebuilt his physical body and movement to one of function and confidence. Over that year there were periods where it was clear there was more emotional and energetic “things” to work through too, and as it so often does with human rehab, now that the physical is transformed the door is opening for those more abstract and non-tangible things to emerge for processing.

I’ve become increasingly aware of this. More than once in the past couple months we are hitting emotional territory. Blocking points where the general vibe seems to be dissociative tantrums, feet stomping included, and the assumption that there is no conversation to be had about it.

For those of you reading this thinking “wHaT iS sHe TaLkInG AbOuT? Horses and eMoTiOnS? UnReSoLvEd tRaUmA?!”. I am going there. I was never not a believer that horse’s have, mirror, hold, and repress emotions, experiences and trauma, but this horse specifically has installed that belief firmly in my knowing.

These moments of tantrums I’ve found in our work together the past few months wreak of old beliefs and behaviours. From my experience “things” like this tend to emerge only when one is safe and ready to process them, and objectively speaking I have built a horse physically capable of this new level of release and confidence building.

Lately we are taking a step back to re-integrate both our bodies. For him that means lots of conscious ground work and lunge work. For me that’s stepping back into my own conscious movement and getting more connected to a cross training program. Movement feels GOOD again, and motivating, after a few years of on and off energy issues and imbalances.

I am aware of a tendency of mine to easily slide into burnout patterns, linear only thinking is one of my warning signs. How lucky am I to have a horse so obviously working with some of the same awarenesses, and much more in tune at times than I can be.

Last night I chose to simply spend some time in Odys’s paddock with him. It started with going to give him an apple and ended an hour and him guiding my hands through a few massage points he needed released. I’m not sure if I’ve felt that connected to him in the past, and perhaps that was one of the most true moments of tossing my agenda I’ve permitted in a while. Connection, I’m sensing, happens less on an agenda and more just in the moment.

The curious thing about riding, especially if you view working with horses as a part of it, as a sport and hobby is that it consistently and pointedly ignores the agenda and linear process we all so desperately cling to at times. I’d much rather learn to listen and deepen my own awareness than have the need fore more blatant cues (like injury, illness and burn out) force me to step back.

Stepping back into the tack

A year ago I was cautiously walking the line of making riding a more consistent part of my life. A couple years prior to this I had begun taking lessons again with the use of a school master and a great coach. While this was a very positive experience, once a week lessons were an allowance to dilly dally in casualty. I think beneficial for that point in my life, but I consistently was aware of a determined lack of commitment under the surface.

To be frank: I wasn’t even sure if I wanted or could commit to the world again. The simple act of taking lessons again often felt too much, and there were many lessons cancelled simply because I couldn’t be motivated to get there. I was burnt out in many other areas of my life, and there were still shadows of burn out present left over from my earlier riding years.

Last winter I began hacking horses for a client and friend of mine that owns a large sales and training barn. It was a low pressure addition to the weekly lessons at the other barn and a chance to reconnect with the training side of my riding skillset. Shortly after taking this on I left for our New Zealand holiday, and returned to a totally different world. The lessons faded away with Covid chaos, but I remember vividly seeing my client/friend posting about a up and coming sales prospect she’d had around her crew for a few years already coming back into work.

Benjamin had popped up and caught my eye previously, but this time seeing him made me want to know more. Because I already had the opportunity to be riding some of the horses at the facility I asked for him to be one I worked with, if it was suitable. In May of 2020 I was introduced formally to a 18hh+, scruffy, suspicious, and gangly young Benjamin and quickly found him to be a motivator to get out to the barn more.

From spring through summer I was able to work with Benjamin a few times a week, beginning to see leaps and bounds in him every time I went out. It became very hard to think about someone else purchasing him, as he was actively for sale at the time, both because he is not the most orthodox horse around and because I couldn’t imagine someone else matching with them. Even still, I was holding back. I had the sense that this was the match for me, but I wasn’t looking for a match at the time (consciously, anyway). Logic kept me from leaping at the chance to commit fully, and I transitioned slowly into part boarding Benjamin more formally (even though everyone at the barn already considered him to be “my” horse).

By late fall that attitude began to change and by Christmas I gifted myself arranging a purchase agreement for the now handsome and demanding turning six year old. Seeing this horse over the course of a year begin to truly step into his power and personality has been a ride I did not expect to be on and one that I could relive again and again, and continue to every time I work with him! Before the end of last year we had changed his name from Benjamin to Odysseus (Odys for short) to help clarify his true nature and blossom from his roots as an Amish cart horse.

In the process of witnessing Odys’s glowing up and stepping into his power I also began to sit with the things that I really wanted moving forwards. At first I began feeling like riding was a home base for me again. A place where I not only had to listen to my inner voice, but could. With Odys’s feedback I began to hear it more clearly, too. I set a goal in January to be jumping around small courses by May, and I am happy to report that we have checked that box with relative confidence. Including heading off site (our first time together venturing out!) to another barn to jump. Even a few months ago this would have caused rampant anxiety, however I am feeling eerily calm and collected knowing that it’s simply a training experience to be had.

There were areas in my life through last year and into the current year where I wasn’t really sure what the next step was. If you had asked last year me if I planned to compete again, I didn’t have a clear answer. Now it’s becoming obvious that this horse wants to carry me back into that world: however very differently than the decade ago memories I have of me in that world. Perhaps it’s the maturity of being out of it for that decade, too.

I have fallen hard, and willingly, back into an adult amateur equestrian (saddle pad addiction and general aesthetic included) lifestyle and while my original plans were to return to the sport as a well off retirement age rider on a nice, babysitting hunter horse have been dashed by a tall, dark and handsome mythical creature that is in every sense of the word a young horse and a show jumping horse. Those intentions of a nice and easy far down the road mosey into riding are now channelling all their bravery into teaching and riding a horse that is frankly has more ability and potential than any horse I’ve ridden previously.

My caution since has begun shifting into a “well, why not” chasing of previously long closeted horse girl dreams. I seem to have stumbled into the perfect opportunity to forge my own path, which in turn has dissolved the blocks and barriers I was feeling around the “what’s next” thought processes.

The inner world conversations happening now seem to revolve around me stepping into my own power and personality in a new way, just as last year was spent helping Odys do as such. The conversation now is becoming about my adult amateur rider bucket list (Florida 2022?!) and less about “this isn’t logical!”. Logic has no room where Odysseus is concerned. We now operate in terms of bravery conditioning, creativity, wild dreams, and authentic versions of self on any given day. Stay tuned for our next check in!

If you’d like to follow our journey more in the moment, follow my instagram (katmah1).

A Unforgettable Year: 2020

As I sift through the endless stream of “good riddance 2020” posts on social media, I can’t help but pause and feel grateful for this so called cursed year.

A year ago on this date I likely couldn’t have predicted how far I would have come in a year. Do I say this every year? Probably.

One year ago I knew that I was about to embark on a dream vacation with my guy, my mom and step-dad to New Zealand. A dream return trip to the dreamiest country both myself and my mom have history with. What none of us predicted was that on returning home from that adventure we would be quarantining and facing a total shift in reality for the remainder of the year.

Another thing I didn’t predict happening throughout this year was how all the perceivable negatives would help me to thrive. As an individual, as a partner, and as a professional.

One year ago I was living with my boyfriend in a apartment with character (not to be read as character apartment, yes there is a difference), tonight I am writing sitting by the woodstove in our first home.

One year ago I was a little bit burdened by left over debt from more educational years (formal or otherwise), looking forwards to our holiday but also a little anxious about a month away from my income sources).. tonight I am reflecting on how quickly a year has shifted my material reality.

One year ago I was quite content to watch and guide other riders in bettering their relationship with their horses, beginning to dabble here and there with hacking out other’s horses when the opportunity came around. Now I have committed to one horse and am being challenged in building a relationship again with my own riding and partnership.

One year, a dream vacation, financial makeover, a new home, a new four legged partner.

Reading back on previous yearly reflection posts- every year has come with it’s own transformations and enlightenments but somehow 2020 has been the year that kept on moving and shaking.

I recognize that I, we (my close connections) have been significantly privileged in a year where many have struggled in more ways than one. For me personally I have not had many reasons at all to hold a grudge at 2020, though certainly there were times and moments throughout the year where the usual course of action only made things worse. 2020 was a year that defined pivot for me. On the whole the year made me grateful for all the times in my life where I’ve had to adapt and survive, no matter what. It was for those tougher years that I was able to discover what thriving means to me in present day.

There’s been more than one moment this year where I’ve sat down and realized that I am living the life I dreamed of a few years ago. One of relative freedom, of joy and of fulfillment.

To me this year was a year that asked questions, and not in a direct way.

2020 was so clear it was blunt in that the “normal” for us collectively had reached a breaking point, and things had to change one way or another. 2020 has tested our faith- not only in leadership but also in the bigger picture, in our connections and in ourselves. Some are likely leaving the year with only doubt remaining, while others have found new avenues and awarenesses to move them forwards.

Regardless where on the faith-doubt spectrum we lie, time marches on.

Heading into the new year a few key themes for me stand out.

I would like to explore vulnerability, which so far is being drawn out the more and more I work with my new horse.

I would like to continue my journey into spirituality.

I would like to continue setting the foundation I’ve begun with “thriving” in mind (vs the old model of surviving”).

What is moving you into the new year? What lessons are you leaving 2020 with?