Lessons from the Heart of a Horse
A few weeks ago, I had the privilege of traveling to Utah with The Nomadic School of Wonder to learn from a herd of wild horses. They live at Windhorse Relations, an organization dedicated to providing care and stewardship of the horses, learning from them, and giving others the chance to experience the power of connecting with the herd.
On the first morning of the experience, the organization’s founder, Mary Lee Brighton, strode into the center of a round pen with a jittery horse named First Star. Mary Lee held a frame drum encased in a deerskin pouch. As she entered the pen, First Star’s eyes widened and his nostrils dilated.
Mary Lee explained that horses are prey animals. Anything unfamiliar represents a potential threat. Since the drum case, with its dangling tassles and odd jangly sounds, was new to First Star, he was understandably anxious.
She moved around the pen and First Star did everything he could to put maximum distance between himself and the drum case.
Over the next hour, Mary Lee worked with First Star, helping him conquer his fear of the threatening drum. In the process, she offered a master class not just in working with horses, but also in leadership.
Here are five lessons gleaned from the heart of the horse:
- The teacher and leader’s job is to be interesting and useful
Horses, Mary Lee told us, have scattered attention. They can be easily distracted by new objects, smells, the presence of food, etc…So if she wants to help the horse learn, change, or grow, part of her job is to be interesting and useful to the horse. By being interesting, she captures the horse’s attention and ignite a sense of curiosity. Once she has that attention, her job is to harness the power of that attention in a way that is of use to her charge.
As she worked with First Star, she would demonstrate different ways of redirecting the horse’s attention, from shifting her position slightly to jangling the tassels on the drum case to simply setting the case on the ground and walking away. Each small adjustment asked First Star to recalibrate his attention and get used to the new situation. And with each step, Mary Lee gave the horse the chance to explore a bit further, to prove to himself that he had the courage to face the fearsome drum case.
2. Working the Edge
Time and time again, First Star would find himself poised between bravery and terror, his body taut as he considered taking a step towards the drum case. Each time he reached this point, Mary Lee would note that he was working his edge. And each time, he would get a little bit closer to the object of his terror.
Rather than forcing him to confront his fear by, for example, restraining him and bringing the drum case closer, Mary Lee made it clear to the horse, and to us, that any shifts or progress would be up to him and him alone. Her job was to create the opportunity for choice. Whatever choice First Star made was praised, after all, a conscious choice is cause for celebration.
3. Soaking Time
After each journey to the edge, Mary Lee made sure to give Bright Star time to process, and recalibrate. She did this by backing off and removing all the pressure. This ‘soaking time’ ensured that First Star had the opportunity to internalize and embody any learnings gained by working the edge. Watching First Star soak, I couldn’t help but feel a bit jealous. After all, the pace of modern life seldom affords us the time to soak in lessons or experience. They tend to just build up over time without having the chance to really sink in!
4. The Power of Reading the Body
While First Star took time to soak in a moment of learning, Mary Lee pointed out how his body would shift from tension to relaxation as pressure released. When stimulated or frightened, First Star’s lower lip would shrivel to the size of a walnut, his nostrils would flare, he would hold his head high, and his feet would be restless, either pawing the ground or taking him all over the pen.
By contrast, when he was soaking and the pressure was off, the lower lip would expand, the feet would become still, his head would descend, and he would yawn, chew, and lick.
When he seemed to be on the verge of falling asleep, Mary Lee would grab his interest again and return to working the edge.
4. The Power of the Indirect Approach
Because horses are prey animals, they get spooked when a human or other creature approaches head on, in a straight line. This approach generally characterizes predator behavior. To earn the horse’s trust, excite curiosity, and put the horse at ease, Mary Lee always approached on a gentle diagonal or even a seemingly aimless wander. The more she ignored First Star, the more interested in her he became.
By approaching indirectly, Mary Lee invited curiosity instead of demanding attention.
After Mary Lee’s demonstration, a group of us started chatting. We were teachers, writers, parents, healers, and students. The lessons had resonated with each of us differently. I saw parallels in my healing and coaching work. A teacher spoke of her work with students and how their body language is not unlike First Star’s. A mother simply looked at us with a mixture of amusement and despair. ‘What have I done to my children,’ she asked.
As the sun set and the Windhorse Herd wound down their day, I found myself wondering what would happen if everyone in a position of leadership had the opportunity to spend the day with Mary Lee and her horse-friends. And, as always when I get to spend time community with the natural world, I was reminded how much wisdom lives in the non-human world and waits there patiently to be rediscovered.
