Experience, Experts, Beginners

This is a confession.... I am about to publicly own up to allowing horses to do something that nearly all experts advise against or strictly forbid.

This "dangerous" and forbidden-by-experts act is a close cousin of scratching an itch and a form of mutual grooming, namely, the horse rubbing his face and head on the human’s body.

Khemo and I discovered the pleasures of extreme head rubbing very early in our time together. One hot humid day, after we had finished a trail ride and were un-tacking in the barn aisle, Khemo briefly rubbed his head on my upper arm. I took it as a sign that he was itchy and wanted his bridle off RIGHT NOW. So, I pulled the bridle off, leaving the reins still looped around his neck, and before putting on his halter preparatory to bringing him to the wash stall for a shower, I offered him my back so that he could give his naked, sweaty face a thorough rubbing. The polo shirts I was in the habit of wearing were perfect for this, made of a dense cotton mesh that was textured and slightly rough to the touch, but not irritatingly abrasive.

After that first time, this face rubbing became a ritual for us. Though Khemo would sometimes rub quite vigorously, so that I was leaning into him with all my might, he never pushed me off balance or hurt me in any way.

The experts say that allowing a horse to take such “liberties” encourages disrespect. Perhaps I’m deluding myself, but I think Khemo genuinely appreciated this gesture of mine. It was a way of expressing my affection for him, something I could do to make him feel a little bit better.

Not only did I engage in this “subversive” activity for many years, I actually enjoyed every minute of it. I have many fond memories of laughing out loud as I stood with my back to Khemo leaning into him, as our combined actions gave him a thorough face rub. I liked feeling exactly how much pressure to offer Khe. I loved his huge sigh and full-body shake when all the itchiness has been rubbed away.

From emails I received after some of my blog entries ( particularly the various “scratching an itch” ones), I gather that I am not alone in this subversion of all that traditional horsemanship holds sacred. It seems there are a quite a few of us flagrantly violating this particular rule... and loving it. But, we’re very low key in talking about this, almost as though we are sharing a guilty secret.

Why? Because, in the eyes of “experts” we’re doing so many things wrong.

First, there’s the hierarchy thing. The cornerstone of traditional horsemanship -- natural, classical, or otherwise -- is a strict hierarchy, with the human being always maintaining a position superior to the horse. Call it “dominant”, “a sovereign demeanor”, “leader,” “seniority” -- the human must always be on a higher rung of the hierarchal ladder than the horse.

If scratching an itch and “mutual grooming” between horse and human undermine hierarchy as Imke Spilker observes, “head rubbing” of the sort in which I gleefully participated with Khemo, absolutely obliterates it.

According to the “experts”, the horse is behaving disrespectfully when he initiates an action. So, in allowing Horse to request or demand a head rubbing -- and complying with it -- I am, according to conventional wisdom, encouraging and rewarding bad behavior.

Allowing intimacy and equality into a relationship with a horse flies in the face of tradition. It marks those of us who do this as “amateurs”, “not serious”, ..... “beginners.”

“Beginner.” Just a beginner. It is almost an insult, isn’t it?

Beginner is the opposite of “expert.”

How does it make you feel to think of yourself as a beginner?

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Very often when people want to convince us of their expert credentials, they begin by citing their many years of experience with whatever-it-is. How many times have you heard or read something like: “Well, I’ve been around horses -- riding, training, and caring for them -- for 50+ years and I can tell you that ________” (fill in the blank).

When we’re new to something -- horses, for example, someone’s 10 or 20 or 50 years of experience usually impress us and inspire respect. Do we not automatically assume that the person touting those credentials is an authority on the subject, an expert?

Certainly in some fields, sheer longevity *is* a reliable indicator of expertise. However, when it comes to horses, the mere fact that a person has spent a long time around them doing something a certain way, does not necessarily mean he has attained wisdom, or deep understanding of his subject.... at least not in the way I have come to view wisdom and understanding.

It could mean that he’s just stuck in a rut and does not even know he’s stuck.

Just because a person has trained horses “successfully” for a long time does not mean that what he is doing, or the spirit in which he is doing it, is right or good from the horse’s point of view. For all we know, the “expert” with the 50+ years of experience might well have been repeating mistakes or committing atrocities the entire time -- using violence, pressure, dominance, intimidation, force, pain, etc. to get horses to do his bidding.

Or, he might have been deluding himself (and his paying students) into thinking he had awesome communication with horses when, in reality, he was little more than an “electric fence” or an “apple tree” as far as the horses were concerned. (For the meaning of the terms “electric fence” and “apple tree” see the quote from Imke Spilker at the end of this blog entry: http://wordsabouthorses.blogspot.com/2010/04/communication-and-training.html

There are many good reasons for seeking out experts for certain things, and I certainly do not mean to denigrate competence or mastery here. What I would like to do is examine some attitudes and beliefs that get in the way of deep connection with horses.

So, let’s consider the expert. An expert is someone who is certain, someone who “knows.” An expert is someone who has it all figured out. How does that feel?

Does it boost your confidence to have it all figured out?

Is there comfort and security in being an expert?

Is there status?

Do we not all want to be experts -- at least when it comes to horses?

Be careful how you answer. It’s a trick question. :-)

The opposite of an expert, as we said before, is a beginner.

When you examined your feelings about being labeled a beginner, did you find discomfort and uncertainty among them?

Hmm.

Did you answer “yes” to wanting to be an expert?

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Consider now these words of Shunryu Suzuki: “In the beginner’s mind there are many possibilities, but in the expert’s mind there are few.”

When it comes interacting with a horse and establishing a relationship with him would you rather have few possibilities? Or many?

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Abbess Zenkei Blanche Hartman says: “As an expert, you’ve already got it figured out, so you don’t need to pay attention to what’s happening.”

She also wrote:

“We all want to be the one who knows. But if we decide we "know" something, we are not open to other possibilities anymore. And that's a shame. We lose something very vital in our life when it's more important to us to be "one who knows" than it is to be awake to what's happening.”

Experts don’t need to pay attention.... Experts do not find it necessary to be awake to what is happening. An expert thinks he already knows.

Looked at in this way, relying on "expertise" is a form of laziness.

Could it be that our desire to be the one who knows is rooted in laziness? Or fear of the unknown? Or a craving for emotional comfort? Perhaps all of these?

When we encounter horses in expert’s mind, we bring with us all of our beliefs, knowledge, and expectations about them. With this mindset, even if we take off their bridles and halters, even if we take them out of their stalls and paddocks, we do not set horses free in any way that matters. We still have them confined within the narrowness and rigidity of our thinking. We are not giving them space to show us who they are.

We box the horses in with our limiting beliefs; we shut ourselves off from their reality, and from the intelligence of our hearts. We “lose something very vital...”

Beginner’s mind is empty of preconceived notions and expectations. It is spacious, open, receptive... There is room for “what is” to be perceived and experienced “unfiltered” and without censorship.

A person of beginner's mind is capable of learning from his horse what is true right now.

And now.

And now.

And now. Again.

A beginner is capable of wonder.

When we know, when we are in expert's mind, we do not wonder and we do not question, “Why?” “Why do I do what I do?”

It is a radical thing to see horses as equals, and to attempt to cultivate a friendship with them. Friendship and equality are NOT the qualities that have characterized the horse-human relationship for the last several thousand years.

In venturing onto this path, in allying ourselves with Horse, we are all beginners.

We are exploring uncharted territory.

It takes courage to sally forth into the unknown. It takes courage to break long-established rules. It takes courage to ignore the advice, and sometimes the judgment and derision of “professionals” and “experts.”

It takes courage and perseverance to continue, despite the discomfort and uncertainty of “not knowing.” It takes courage and great attentiveness to trust ourselves and Horse and the wisdom of our hearts in the here and now. It takes courage and self-discipline to stay open and receptive and aware.

Courage, perseverance, attentiveness, open-heartedness, receptivity, self-discipline... these are among the qualities cultivated by a person with beginner's mind.

No wonder so few choose this path...