Taking a Closer Look at a Very Bad Habit

In my entry of April 30th I wrote:

“Labeling certain actions as “dominant” or “aggressive” or “wrong”, and thinking that there is a certain one-size-fits-all set of actions to deal with such behaviors is a Very Bad Habit.

It is a habit that makes me lose touch with reality, the reality of what is happening right here, right now, with me, and with Horse..... That’s crazy -- unless what I want is a surefire recipe for misunderstanding, separation, and alienation.”

If a horse wants his butt or tail scratched, or has a tick burrowing into the dock of his tail and wants me to remove it, how should he let me know?

It seems to me the most natural thing for him to do would be to turn his haunches toward me and put his butt within reach of my hands with their very useful fingernails. But, this simple action, a horse turning his hindquarters toward a human being, is absolutely forbidden by most training systems or methods. It is considered disrespectful. The horse is punished for doing this, sometimes severely; he must learn that this is not allowed. But how else can he tell me that there is a tick in his tail?

What message do we give a horse when we whack him as punishment for “bad” behavior, when what he was trying to do was tell us that he had an itch, or a tick?

At the very least, we're saying we're not the least bit interested in what's going on with him. And that's the thing that creates the Very Bad Habit: what a horse is actually trying to communicate just doesn’t matter at all in most systems of training. Certain behaviors -- butt turned toward human, for example -- are labeled “bad” or “disrepectful” or “dominant” or “aggressive” and are strictly forbidden. Instead of being taught to listen to their horses, people are taught to react according to a set formula....if Horse does abc, person must do xyz. They are being taught that the Very Bad Habit is a Good Thing. Ignoring reality, tuning out the horse in favor of following arbitrary rules based on some human's opinion of what is "good" and what is "bad" behavior is what we are instructed to do. There is no listening going on, no dialog taking place -- in fact, most training systems are geared *not* to let that happen.

Why? What might we find out if we listened to Horse? What might we learn about him and about ourselves?

If I want Horse to initiate communication with me and to be interested in what is going on with me, what I need to learn is how to listen to Horse and understand him. I need to learn how to sense the difference between his request for a scratch and his expression of anger or frustration. I need to find a way of conversing with Horse that lets him tell me what he needs and wants. And, since I do not want to be hurt or frightened...to hold up my end of the conversation, I need to let him know what threatens me, what scares me, what hurts. (Those of us who have been taught since childhood to NEVER let the horse know our fear will find this very idea scary.)

To do my part, I first have to realize (right in the moment) that I feel threatened, that I'm afraid of getting hurt, instead of reflexively getting angry with Horse for being “disrespectful”. It can be uncomfortable to feel those feelings of fear and vulnerability. It is so much easier to call Horse disrespectful and tell him he's doing something "bad". So much easier to blame him for what feels uncomfortable to me, than to converse with him... especially when I can rely on expert opinion or a professional's instructions to back me up.

What is more important-- my fleeting emotional comfort, or intimate communication with Horse? What is safer in the long run?

For me, communication is more important (and infinitely safer) because I want a friendship with Horse. I'm willing to take some "risks" to establish communication. I’m willing to let Horse know how I feel. And I'm willing to learn how he feels. I encourage him to express himself.

What I'd like is to know Horse well, to understand his subtle, silent language. I’d like Horse to know me, like me, trust me, and respond to my feelings in the moment. Horse cannot do that if he has been constantly repressed, oppressed, suppressed and taught that my personal space is anywhere within 2.5 feet of me and if he violates that space (for any reason) without being specifically invited, he has misbehaved (the implication being that there is punishment coming for that “misbehavior”). I’d like to know Horse so well that I can tell what he’s feeling and thinking, so well that I know when he needs something from me and what he needs.

I'd like Horse to know me so well that he knows it's perfectly okay right now to come and "hug" me by wrapping his neck around me, even though yesterday afternoon it was not okay to do that because circumstances were different and I was feeling differently.

Does Horse know how I feel? Does he care?

Most "experts" -- horsemen and scientists alike -- do not believe that the kind of communication I want is possible between a human and a horse. They would say that what I want is unfair because it is inconsistent, it calls on the horse to exercise discretion, to not only know and understand my feelings but be considerate of them as well ... and any experienced horseman, any scientist, knows that horses are not capable of that.

Really? Is that true?

I wonder how such experts would explain Passaro’s actions. Those of you who have read “Empowered Horses” will remember that Passaro had suffered great abuse at the hands of human beings, and as a consequence any sort of human influence was abhorrent to him, even when that influence was meant to help him. As Imke Spilker writes: “He became enraged about whatever we tried to do with him and he became enraged when we did nothing. ‘Please wash me but woe to you if you get me wet!!’ .... Sometimes things became so impossible that Kirsten no longer felt safe in the arena with him. But her departure only made him even angrier. It could not go on like this. So one day, when Kirsten had fled the arena in fear, Passaro simply sat down after a brief roll and did not stand up again until Kirsten, full of concern that something must be wrong with him, came back into the arena. Just like that he realized he had a way to bring her back....” (“Empowered Horses”)

Passaro had not been taught to sit down, nor had he seen other horses sitting. He knew that Kirsten loved him and he knew that she was afraid of him when he was in the throes of one of his rages. He wanted her with him. So he figured out a way to make himself safe for Kirsten to be around. Not only that, Passaro also discovered that he could use his Sitting Game to calm himself down whenever things became too much for him.

Passaro’s actions show awareness of Kirsten’s emotions and his own, awareness of how his actions affected her, great self-control, and great ingenuity as well as initiative in solving what seemed, moments before, to be an intractable problem. He certainly showed consideration and exercised discretion.

What would the aforementioned horse-underestimating “experts” say about Passaro?

What would they say about Thunder?

The amazing Thunder, photo by Cloé Lacroix

Thunder’s person, my dear friend Cloé, has many wonderful stories about him ... like this one:

Cloé had her hands full with a horse on a lead line while trying to open a paddock gate without letting the other horses in the paddock escape. The gate latch required two hands -- with one hand occupied holding the horse, Cloé couldn't get the latch open. She was stuck. Thunder, standing nearby, observed her dilemma, and without being asked, came over and gently took the lead rope out of Cloé’s hand. He stood quietly, holding the (other) horse for her while she dealt with the latch and the gate. !! Problem solved and mission accomplished.

Thunder had not been trained to do that. He saw that his person, his two-legged friend, had a problem, he figured out a solution, and he voluntarily came over to help. I would say he was exercising discretion and being considerate, wouldn’t you?

Do you think Thunder would have figured out how to help Cloé if he had been trained never to encroach on a human’s space without being invited, if he had been punished for expressing his opinion and exercising initiative? Do you think he would have cared that this person, his person, was in a jam?

Thunder, photo by Cloé Lacroix

In another great Thunder story.... Cloé’s boyfriend came home one day, saying: “Here are your mittens, .... you left them at the barn.” When Cloé thanked him for finding them he replied, “Don’t thank me! Thank your horse! When he saw me arrive at the field he walked toward the paddock, picked up the mittens in his mouth -- you had left them on the railing -- and brought them to me!”

!!!!!

Do not think for a minute that Thunder had been trained to fetch objects for Cloé’s boyfriend, any more than Passaro had been trained to sit.

Some folks might say that horses like Thunder and Passaro are not the norm. Well, those folks are correct, but for the wrong reasons. Neither Passaro nor Thunder have powers that other horses do not have -- super powers of intelligence or insight. (Cloé would be the first to agree with me on this, even though, to her, Thunder is the most amazing horse on earth.) Yes, they're unique, smart, brilliant, wonderful -- but every horse is. What makes horses like Passaro and Thunder so rare is the scarcity of human beings like the ones in their lives. Both horses were fortunate enough to encounter human beings who respected them, who genuinely cared about what they thought, what they felt. Their human beings listened to them, engaged with them, played and worked with them in a state of togetherness. These horses have the opportunity to express themselves to someone who pays attention -- and that is what lets their true genius emerge. The were not treated like machines.

What do horses know?

I don’t know the answer to that question, and I’ll be so bold as to say categorically that no human being at this time has a definitive answer.... simply because we have never devoted ourselves to finding one. Instead, humankind has, for centuries, devoted all its efforts to trying, by whatever means, to turn Horse into a reliable, predictable riding and driving and pulling machine. No one wonders about a machine’s intelligence. All that matters is its performance. No one seeks to communicate with a machine, or wonders how it feels, or wants to befriend it -- we just want to press the right buttons in the right sequence so that the machine does what we want it to do. In other words, we do abc, and the machine does xyz. It is easy to see how we got the Very Bad Habit of adhering to methods and procedures in interacting with horses, at the expense of cutting ourselves off from the living reality. And it is easy to see that this habit is (still) very ingrained in human culture. And in each of us.... or, at least, in me.

To undo this Very Bad Habit, we must also undo some of this cultural conditioning. We need to realize that most of what we’ve learned about horses and most of the “education” that is available out there is NOT grounded in genuine knowledge of Horse -- but in this faulty concept of horse as machine. This faulty concept grew quite naturally out of the faulty notions that existed before it -- that animals did not feel, did not think... that they had no souls (that last one is still very much alive in certain spheres), and that their existence had no purpose except to serve man. Who in their right mind talks of getting to know a machine? We learn to operate a machine, not to listen to and understand “it.” Only a crazy person thinks of befriending or loving a machine or having a relationship with “it.” Only a crazy person, or a complete idiot, asks “What does a machine know?”

Note to self: A horse is more like a river than a machine.

Try to remember that the next time you’re wondering which button to push to get Horse to do something-or-other. Instead of trying to operate a sentient being like a machine, go with the flow. Experience the energy of the moment... your feelings, Horse’s feelings, and the two-way flow of the connecting current between you. Access the intelligence of your heart, the intelligence of direct perception.

Being in connection with Horse feels very different than being his boss, his master, the dominant one, the “alpha”... or operating a tractor. It feels authentic, alive, enlivening. It often feels absolutely joyous and, most importantly, these feelings are mutual. (With apologies to Janis Joplin: You know you've got it if it makes you both feel good.")

The thing about the Very Bad Habit is that it not only limits, suppresses, and oppresses Horse when we expect him to behave like a machine, mindlessly and without feeling; it dehumanizes us to treat him this way. When we cut ourselves off from Horse’s feelings and our own in order to heartlessly follow externally imposed instructions we become less than human. We turn ourselves into machines, too. Empty shells. Robots manipulating other robots. Sad. And completely unnecessary.

It is way past time for the notion of “horse as machine” to be tossed on the scrap heap of Bad Ideas, Wrong Thinking, and Limiting, Harmful Beliefs. Really, the idea is so 19th century. As soon as we rid ourselves of this ridiculous notion we begin to break the Very Bad Habit. Interaction by interaction we begin to discover for ourselves the answer to the question: “What do horses know?”

When we don't suppress horses by forcibly limiting their actions to those we demand from them, we create an opening for them to show us what they can do and what they know. We let their genius emerge. We give them a chance to dazzle us with their brilliance... and profoundly touch our hearts.

My bet is that horses know way more than we think they do, way more than our “experts”, would have us believe. Which is more compelling, the opinion of experts - the scientists and professional horsemen whose methodology is firmly rooted in obsolete 19th century thinking? Or the evidence of the horses themselves?

Consider Passaro, sitting down to make himself safe for Kirsten to be near.

Remember Thunder, volunteering to hold a horse for Cloé; remember him returning the mittens she had left behind.

What’s your bet?