THE ADULT BEGINNER RIDER

THE ADULT BEGINNER RIDER

By Tom Gumbrecht

I'm not sure if I technically qualify as a beginner rider, but at age 63 with only 18 years of riding behind me, my experience pales to many my age who have been riding for a lifetime. My beginner experience is fresh enough in my mind that I can fully relate to other adult beginners and the unique challenges, fears and frustrations we all face. Moreover, I started my riding "career" at an age where I had all of the normal responsibilities, expenses and fears that elude those who learn riding at a young age.

One of the author's first times jumping OTTB Lola.
With trainer Laura Ruben.

I may further qualify for the title "beginner" since I have been a beginner at many different aspects of horsemanship along the way: Starting as a first-time-on-a-horse beginner at age 45, I have been a beginner basic student, a beginner lessee, and a beginner rough boarder. Then a beginner barrel racer, a beginner trail rider, a beginner jumper and a beginner eventer. I was a beginner at dressage and a beginner at horse showing. I was a beginner at trailering, both local and long distance when Samantha took her horse to college. I was a beginner horse owner, a beginner barn owner, a beginner facility designer and a beginner "trainer."

I have been a beginner to treating different injuries and illness in horses more times than I care to remember. I have been a beginner in dealing with the death of an equine companion.

By the time we reach middle age, I will hazard a guess that many of us Long Islanders in the position to consider riding as a hobby have become accustomed to being fairly good at what we do. Riding -riding well- as I quickly learned, involved (at least in my case) a willingness to be really bad at something I was totally drawn to, and doing so in public without knowing if and when I would ever "get good" at it. I was out of my comfort zone; frustrating to say the least.

I have met riders who have been riding nearly all of their lives, and even some "natural riders" who started as adult beginners who can't seem to relate to the level of frustration that many of us experience. I have had many times over the years when I have been frustrated in lessons and I think there were many different reasons..

Finding the right trainer goes a long way toward eliminating
frustration for the adult beginner. DannyBoy here with
trainer Laura Ruben.

A few that come to mind:

1) My first trainer told me, "Your problem is, in your world you're a boss; you want to THINK it, and for it to be done. That's not the way it is here. You have to do all of the work yourself."  I hated him for it at the time but his assessment was spot-on. Understanding the concept of something intellectually and putting in the work so that it eventually reverts to muscle memory are two very different things.

2) I needed to find the right trainer. I rode with quite a few before I "struck gold." The best trainers for me were the ones who had struggled to "get it" and could empathize with my struggles. Those who considered themselves "natural riders" usually didn't work out for me. Also, I needed a trainer who was not only an effective communicator but was able to communicate in a way that I could learn. I learn by visual images. A five minute detailed lecture on how tightly to hold my reins might as well be in Chinese. But tell me: "You're holding a small bird in your hand. You don't want it to get away, but you don't want to crush it to death either." That I get. Immediately.

3) Fear is a thing. When it takes hold, "just suck it up" doesn't always cut it. When my eventer was out of commission for over a year, I had my OTTB project waiting in the wings. She was very green and a little unpredictable. I was 56 when I started working with her and she dumped me at fences more than a few times. I found it hard to "throw my heart over the fence" and she definitely needed me to do that. We had to back down and do flat work, poles, little cross rails again-- for months! It's important to have a trainer who pushes you out of your comfort zone, but it's also important to have one who knows how much is too much. Pushing too hard or to far can let the paralysis of fear take over and that's a breeding ground for frustration. It's important to have a trainer who gets that, and also equally important for me to be able to leave my ego at the gate and not consider that "rebooting" to be a failure. I had gotten myself to the point that I was afraid to canter my own horse. And perhaps more afraid to admit it because in my mind I had developed a reputation as a fairly "fearless" rider. The only way I was able to get past it was to admit what I was going through, take a small step back to what I was still comfortable doing and build off of that. The obstacle was not in the arena; it was in my head.

When faith replaces fear, cool things can
happen. Faith in trainer, horse and self.

4) Goals are a good thing. I would accomplish little without them. But it was important that I keep my goals flexible. That applies to my goals for the year, for the show season, for the week, and even for the lesson or the ride. I had big goals for DannyBoy in eventing one year. It was going to be our move-up season. Then he got hurt and needed surgery. I allowed myself one day of "poor me" then brushed off my OTTB mare Lola, and called my trainer. I wanted her to train me to train the mare. It was a big undertaking for me because she knew almost nothing except how to run fast, and how to behave on the ground. My most cherished ribbon to this day was from her first show, an eventing dressage-only class. It was a second place ribbon, out of a class of two riders. But I cherish it because of the amount of dedication from Lola, my trainer and me that it represented.  Goals are great. Inflexible, unrealistic goals are an invitation to frustration.

5) Accepting change. There were a few years where I was able to devote the time to training vigorously and I had a few pretty good seasons in local level eventing and jumpers. I have a bunch of ribbons that represent accomplishments that were beyond my wildest dreams. It's human nature to want more of something so rewarding. But... life is change. I have a lot of added business and family responsibilities now; that's reality. Horses are still a major part of my life but I'm not currently in training nor showing. Will I ever go back to it? I like to think so, at least the formal training if not the showing. But if not... that's ok. I still ride, and have my own training regimen and also love to be out in the woods with my horses. I help others, try to at least. I have learned to appreciate my horses for who they are as much as I used to for what they could do. I have been blessed with a grandson, now two years old, who seems to have the horse gene and a lot of my time is now spent introducing him to the joys of horses. Not embracing change is one of the quickest paths to frustration that I know.

The horse world is full of experts and I'm totally ok with saying that I'm not one of them. If I'm any

New beginnings. A life with horses isn't
exclusively about riding.

good at anything it could be that I've learned to see "pride" in a different light and lay out the challenges I've faced for other riders to see and maybe identity with.

So yeah.. I've been frustrated in my riding, but I no longer stay that way for very long. I hope to stay a beginner forever.  There's no shame in not being perfect. It would be a shame to give up on a passion because we thought we had to be.

The author and DannyBoy at Good Shepherd Horse Trials

UNITY: THE SECRET INGREDIENT

UNITY: THE SECRET INGREDIENT

By Tom Gumbrecht

Is there a secret ingredient that exists in some barns which brings out the best in riders, boarders and even horses? I think there may be... and I think it may be unity, the pulling together as a team toward a common goal.

If we want to learn to live in harmony, we need look no
further than our horses. DannyBoy and Diesel
demonstrate

 This year especially, there seems to be a lot of disharmony in the air; I suspect it may stem from the unusually discordant political campaigns we've been subjected to. I'm not comfortable with it, but it has triggered some self-reflection. It's easy to recognize dissension in others, but what about myself? Do my words and actions foster unity, or are they sometimes divisive?

Most of us have been at barns where, upon arrival, some outgoing and seemingly friendly soul immediately begins to give us the low-down on everyone else in the barn. It seems comforting; we've made a connection with someone who is looking out for us, but I've found that it is generally an illusion. Gossip is not about exchanging information, it's about power. "I know what you don't, and I've chosen to let you in on it. No need to form your own opinion, I will do that for you, and claim you for my team." Environments such as this can leave us feeling suspicious, guarded and confused.

If we're lucky, we've also experienced barns where there is no trace of a judgmental undertone. People are accepting, helpful, and mainly discuss concepts, ideas and events rather than people. When we find ourselves at such a barn, we are refreshed, encouraged and hopeful. These environments do not exist by accident; what is tolerated is perpetuated. The embers of gossip die out without the oxygen of an interested audience.

In my life, I've been as guilty of these sins as anyone. My dad was a good man. He and I

Gossip has no place in a harmonious environment.
Bella and Flo breaking the rules here.

were both tradesmen, and there were times in his life that we couldn't relate on a lot of levels; gossiping about the different characters on the job was where we bonded. It was comforting, it was reassuring and it filled an uneasy silence. It took a long while to let go of that false sense of security, and realize that he was doing the best he could to connect, just like I was. But I no longer want to walk that path.

To keep myself on the path I would now hope to follow, I ask myself some pointed questions:

* Am I a healing, unifying person or am I divisive? Am I judgmental of others?

* Am I a peacemaker, or do I like to "stir the pot?"

* Am I tolerant of those who rub me the wrong way, or am I abrasive?

* Do my remarks carry an air of superiority about them, or to I remember where I came from?

* Do I put down some equestrian activities as if I were a cut above for not participating in this or that aspect of riding?

* Do I share my defeats as well as my accomplishments that others may identify and grow, or do I need to appear an expert?

Unity allows us to do together that which we cannot
do for ourselves.

I'm lucky that the very first barn I landed in radiated an attitude that was supportive, tolerant and patient, and not indulgent of those with other agendas. It was the beginning of my own transformation. Now I have my own barn and I have to always be conscious of the fact that it's me who sets the tone. Just as the barn requires constant maintenance, so does the environment we have created here.  It is maintenance of a more spiritual nature, and while our horses may create the need for much of the facility maintenance, it is they who provide us with maintenance for the soul.

A harmonious workplace doesn't just happen.
Just like the barn and fences, it requires work to build and maintain.

FINDING CONNECTION

FINDING CONNECTION

By Tom Gumbrecht

Originally published in Horse Directory, August 2016

My horses are pleasure horses; being in their company gives me pleasure. There was a time when riding was everything, at first casual and then in local competitions. I may not have yet realized it but the picture I was attempting to paint was one of the human-horse relationship; combined training and jumpers were my medium. While I enjoyed the ribbons and still have a few hanging up, the real payoff for me was how completion validated the strength of our partnership and the effectiveness of our communication.

The author with Bella, who was once
considered aloof.

 The partnership was enhanced in the training arena and culminated in the show ring or the cross country field. But it was really created in the stable, in the day-to-day caring for my horses' basic needs and sometimes special needs as well. That's where we, human and horse alike, learned to trust one another and to develop enough faith in that trust to sometimes go against our instincts and rely totally on the other being. I found that a much harder quality to develop than some of the technical skills.

For better or worse, it seemed that the tightest bonds were created when I was caring for a horse that was ill or injured. I was actually able to feel an intense level of trust developing through the heightened level of daily handling involved in their care. It was that soul connection between friends of different species that I had sought; competition had been one means to that end, but it was becoming evident that it was not the only means.

Bella was not my horse, but I was always responsible for her. She belongs to Samantha, who had multiple successful seasons in jumpers with her when she was home in high school. Bella was a very talented horse, but she was a hot blooded Arabian mare who was concerned about everything. Samantha was one of only a few people who could ride her in competition effectively. They were both accepted at a prestigious Midwest horsey college, and Bella never really fit into their program. While the school touted the qualifications of their trainers, the reality was that these big name trainers only worked with the top human and equine athletes. The overwhelming majority was taught by other students, who in this case were well-meaning but  inexperienced in dealing with a horse like Bella. She became confused and seemed to be losing her spirit. I ended up bringing her back home before her fourth semester was finished, with a mysterious lameness that no one seemed to be able to pinpoint.

Bella had been the most aloof of all of our horses, and often resisted human attempts to show

The author learns that Bella's trust
needs to be earned and cannot be
rushed.

affection. I noticed a subtle shift in attitude when I showed up at the college-town stable to bring her home, something hard to describe; a renewed intensity in her eyes perhaps, and a much more vocal greeting when she became aware of my presence. She associated me with home, it seemed, and she wanted to go home.

In the time that has passed since then, Bella retired from jumpers, but shockingly for such a hot blooded mare, became a rock solid trail mount; I could see the attentiveness in her ears and feel her confidence through reins and seat. She has had issues that sometimes affected her soundness, and at those times required a more intensive regimen of care than normal. As I have now grown to expect, during those times we have become noticeably closer. Recently she has had a few different issues which required a good bit of attention from me, and I actually became aware of an increased sense of trust and gratitude radiating from her. Bella actually is a very affectionate horse, but needs to be allowed to express it in her time and on her terms.

Nap time with Bella.

On a recent summer Sunday morning I lingered in the barn aisle after my chores were completed, drinking my coffee and reading the newspaper. I glanced up from my chair and didn't immediately see Bella, so I stood up and then realized that she had lay down in her stall in front of the fan and was taking a nap. I slid open her stall door to check on her and she raised her head up, looking slightly annoyed at the intrusion.

 Curious, I sat down next to her in the stall with my back against the wall and my legs stretched out in front of me. Her head was to my right, and to my left I kept the stall door open in case she decided to get up and I needed to quickly get out of her way. I made a couple of attempts to stroke her neck and each time she pinned her ears slightly and gave a swish of her tail. So I let her be; she was obviously not fully comfortable with the situation. I just sat there and watched her ears come forward slowly and her eyes lose some of their intensity. I sat still for five, then ten, and ultimately almost thirty minutes when she let out a low groan that might have been concerning had it not been accompanied by the lowering of her head onto my chest and her breathing her breath into mine. Before I was even able to process what had just happened, she let out a nicker that shocked me not only by its volume in my ear or the reverberation in my chest, but also by being totally unexpected.  Bella did not often nicker.

Bella enjoys helping us with our farm chores.

This horse had wanted to connect as much as I did; I needed to find the patience to let it be her idea, to earn her trust and not attempt to force it. My patience was rewarded with a clearer understanding of what it is that I seek from my relationship with our horses. I seek to connect at the heart, and once in a while if I'm ready to receive it, the gift is bestowed upon me.

KICKED FROM COMPLACENCY

KICKED FROM COMPLACENCY

By Tom Gumbrecht

We've all had it drilled into us: "Don't stand behind that horse, don't walk too close to that horse, don't pass so near to that horse, you'll get kicked! We find ourselves repeating the same doctrine to novices and people whose horse sense we are unsure of.

Lola's racing days. Were there things from
her past that she couldn't tell me about?

We also develop a sixth sense about the horses under our care: we get a picture of a horse's emotional condition beginning at dawn when we flip on the barn lights and walk by his stall. Is he calm? Still groggy from sleep and not alert? Concerned? Agitated? Scared? A horse tells us with his ears, eyes, and body just which version of him we will be dealing with that day, and we gauge our interactions with him accordingly. 

But sometimes, complacency can set it. At least I've found that to be true, especially with a horse that we've known for a long time, and formed a close bond with. It might start out as a small transgression, such as crawling halfway under a horse to paint a hoof rather than getting up and walking around to the other side. If anyone else is in attendance, we might throw out a disclaimer, "You should never do what you see me doing right now," as our actions belie our words.

So it was with Lola, the Thoroughbred mare we had acquired two weeks off of the

Lola, the sweetheart of the herd,
still feels her oats.

racetrack where an injury had ended her promising career. During her lengthy rehabilitation and recovery period, we formed a bond and mutual trust that was unbreakable. That trust was hard-won and very real, but I was probably just a little more conscious of my movements around Lola than with our other horses. Any quick hand or arm movement around her or over-zealous use of a manure fork in her stall had the potential of causing her lightening-quick reflexes to send her retreating smartly backwards into the stall wall. There were things in her past, it seemed, that she was unable to tell me about.

We knew a lot of things about each other, and made allowances for them; that's what enabled our relationship to work. I never thought of her as difficult, but she was very sensitive. Lola may not have been 100% trusting of anyone, but from what I observed in nine years caring for, training and riding her, there was no other human that she trusted more. She would give the boss mare, Bella, a very wide berth and back down in any situation that had even the potential of conflict, her strides being very tentative. With me by her side though, she would confidently prance right past her, ears forward, with a purposeful stride. Sometimes I would chuckle to myself that maybe she had a little too much faith in me; Bella could easily take us both out if she ever had the mind to.

Lola's stall, the scene of the crime.
Mine, not hers.

One recent evening after returning home at around 9:00 pm, I headed out to the barn to put the horses in for the night. I switched on the paddock lights, and Lola meandered over and made her way past me and into her still darkened stall, like she always does. As she passed, I noticed something on her underside, maybe a small burr, and instinctively reached out to touch it, forgetting for a moment that I had placed myself beyond the scope of her peripheral vision. My next recollection was of a wrenching pain in my gut, a blinding light as my eyes were looking straight up into the paddock floodlights and a sharp, hard thud that was my head hitting the ground. For the first time in eighteen years around horses, I had taken a kick! I next had a unique view of what a horse looks like when she is jumping, from the point of view of the jump. Lola bolted out of the stall and jumped over me in her hasty exit, being mercifully careful in where she placed her feet. Or lucky. I got myself up and tried to make sense of what had happened. There was blood all over my left hand and as the shock wore off I started to hurt everywhere. It took me a while to get the horses in after the commotion, especially Lola, who had retreated to the far corner of the paddock and needed to be coaxed and reassured that there would be no repercussions to her fear-based reaction. All of her movements were now very jerky and tentative as if she were waiting to be punished. I lingered by her stall door for a long while before turning away from her, and only then did she cautiously approach and put her head out and bury her nose in my chest. It's ok, girl. Your body reacted totally on instinct which is a part of your blood and bones. And I know better. No hard feelings.

After I had made my way up to the house to be checked over by my wife Mary, a nurse

Someday, young Daniel, I'll tell you all  about
your pal Lola, when she was known as
One Precious Gem.

by profession, I went to bed but although I was very tired, sleep would not come. What kept me awake was not the fear of playing out "what if" scenarios, but rather an intense feeling of gratitude. The last few months, I have been exposing my two year old grandson, Daniel, to the wonders of horses, to the delight of all humans and equines concerned. It occurred to me that I had at some point started thinking of our horses as big teddy bears, and perhaps unconsciously transmitting that attitude with the best of intentions but the carelessness of familiarity. I was very grateful that it was me that paid the price for that lapse in judgment, and not Daniel. It was a very small price to pay for an important and timely refresher course. They are not teddy bears. They are horses.

The fact is that I had frightened Lola and she responded the way frightened horses do. Then she laid low for awhile, then allowed me to walk her back to her stall, and when she thought it was safe, came and expressed affection. I am grateful because Lola teaches me how to be: there was an overreaction to stimulus, a retreat to regroup, then a making of amends. I had to wonder, if this had been a human-human interaction, would it have been resolved so quickly and amicably?

A BRIDGE BACK TO LIFE

A BRIDGE BACK TO LIFE (Crossed on Horseback)                                                                       Originally published in Horse Directory,  Jan/Feb 2016

By Tom Gumbrecht

Have you ever experienced a phenomenon where a number of seemingly unrelated chunks of time and events conspire to fall together in place, like pieces of a jigsaw puzzle? Sort of like standing too close to a heavily pixilated image and then all at once becoming aware of an awesome image upon viewing it from the correct distance and perspective. So it was with the story of how horses entered my life and how important a role they ended up playing in it.

Buddy was one of the first horses who helped me to put the pieces of
the puzzle that were my life, back together.

My life and career had been seemingly progressing pretty well when I was in my thirties. I was married to Mary, who was pretty, hardworking, fun and supportive. We bought a house in a neat, beachy community on the north shore of western Suffolk County, had good jobs, travelled and had a lot of cool stuff. As a self-employed trade contractor, I liked to work hard and I liked to play hard and the play time usually included alcohol.

It started out innocuously enough. Drinking was a way to put the worries of business and the responsibilities of being an adult on hold for periods of time in order to let go, have fun and not be consumed by the worries of life. And it worked. For some people, that’s as far as it goes; perhaps an occasional overindulgence at a social event, but nothing to elicit concern. But some of us are wired differently. For some of us, drinking progresses to the point where it no longer facilitates and enhances fun activities… it becomes the activity. When that happens, we might surround ourselves with like-minded people, and in so doing create a new normal- one where frequent overindulgence is not frowned upon nor regaled, it is just accepted.

That is exactly where I found myself at around age forty. The lifestyle was beginning to take its toll, and some incidents shined a light on the problem which I had no choice but to come face-to-face with. I had spent many years trying different methods to drink like a normal person, to no avail. It was confusing, because I was quite successful in dealing with other of life’s problems. The solution to this one, though, remained elusive. The problem was my insistence on finding a way to manage something that to my body, was unmanageable. The answer was a simple one, but not easy: avoid it entirely, a day at a time. That proved much easier said than done of course, because at a point the addiction to alcohol affects us on a physical, mental and spiritual level. When something that had become such a big part of life is removed, something has to take its place. It can be a bad thing or a good thing, but that void will be filled.  For me, that something ended up being horses.

On a day like any other, a few years into my newly sober lifestyle, my phone rang. On the other end was a well known LI Hunter/ Jumper trainer (a fact completely lost on me at the time) who needed a barn rewired. I took the job and found myself utterly fascinated with the horses, horse sports and horse people. Interestingly, during my drinking years I never really found out what made me tick, what I liked, what I was drawn to, where my passions lied. I engaged in hobbies and pursuits that I perceived were cool, or made me look cool, whether or not I was well suited to them. If that ever made me uncomfortable, the alcohol was there to smooth over the feelings.

In my world, horses were perhaps aesthetically pleasing and had a formidable presence and required some skill and courage to master, but they were not cool so I never had given them a second thought. In fact, I didn’t even know anyone who had taken up the pursuit seriously. But an interesting thing happened: In being around them over a period of time, I found a strong emotional attachment to horses, I loved being around them and I could not wait to learn how to ride. I brought my eight year old niece Sam with me and we set out to learn to ride as two green newbies at a barn full of mostly very experienced riders.

Very clumsily at first, I pursued my new riding career with a passion that quickly earned me some credibility in the ring, not due to accomplishments, aptitude or ability but by sheer dedication alone. In the process of learning the technical aspects of riding, I found myself the recipient of a totally unexpected gift: The physical manifestations of my drinking had not caused any permanent damage and were pretty much addressed by the act of stopping alone. The mental aspects required a little more work, which was addressed by learning as much as I could about alcoholism and allowing myself to be put into a position to be supported and to support others. It was the third component, the spiritual one, to which a solution seemed elusive. This was a soul sickness borne of the realization of the extent of the damage that had been done and the denial which had clouded my judgment for so long. It was toward that third, spiritual facet that horses began to fill the hole in my soul that alcohol never could. They held for me the keys to what I now think of as a new freedom and a new happiness.

So, stepping back once again from that fragmented mosaic, I could now see that an awesome plan had been laid out for me, and I had been in the right place at the right time with the willingness to follow it. Spiritual healing was important because as ex-problem drinkers, we find that people, especially those whose lives or the lives of those close to them have not been touched by alcoholism, can view us with suspicion, condescension, judgment and pity, none of which are how anyone wants to be treated. Horses, however, do not care about our past, nor do they care about our worries about the future. They live in the now, and we learn, if we are motivated enough, to live in their world and on their terms. It is from the “now” that we commence to heal, not from any point in the past or future, and a horse can be an ideal partner in the healing process. We learn to be honest because horses respond only to who we truly are and not to the person we pretend to be or think they need us to be. To be accepted simply for who we are creates a feeling of belonging and of having a place in the universe. It is an experience not to be missed.

That picture and the plan represented by it gained a more crystal clarity in the life events that followed in ensuing years. We became parents to our young niece Sam who I had brought to riding lessons with me, after her mother died at a young age. By that time our involvement with horses had increased to the point where we had our own small farm, and our horses were the catalyst which helped the relationship between middle-aged, first-time parents and a young girl who had her life turned upside down, to work.  A regular program of lessons and training led to competitions with Sam enjoying many successes in the jumper ring with her Arabian mare, Bella. Sam and Bella attended a horsey college in the Midwest and returned home with both having grown in their knowledge and abilities. As an empty nester, I entered the show ring with my APHA gelding DannyBoy, having reasonably successful seasons in the eventing field and the jumper ring. Sam has now presented us with a beautiful grandson named Daniel who is a new source of joy and is being raised on our farm with dogs, horses and love.

It was, and is, a beautiful plan which was invisible until my eyes had become clear enough to see and follow it. And it’s not finished yet. The key to happiness, I’ve found, is not creating a constant flow of stimulation and excitement that I once thought it was. The key, for me, is having something to do, something to love, and something to hope for. Horses have provided, and led me to, all three.

Epilogue:

Alcohol can surely be used by many as it was intended to be. When we find that we are having trouble with control, my experience has shown me that by the time that level of awareness is reached, a problem usually exists. If you find that you or someone close to you wants to put some controls on their drinking and can’t, I’m telling you that you are not alone. If help is sought and accepted, no one has to drink who doesn’t want to. The thing is, most of us play with the illusion of control far too long, but it doesn’t have to be that way. Good luck and God bless.

REAL FREEDOM

REAL FREEDOM                                                                                                                 Originally published in Horse Directory, September, 2014

By Tom Gumbrecht

Bella is affectionate, but on her terms.
She taught us about boundaries to keep our
space safe to be ourselves.

Horses represent freedom to many of us, myself included.  But what my perception of what that freedom actually was has changed significantly over the years.  At first I confused freedom with the exhilaration of a long gallop. After some years, I find that it is quite different now, and it has to do more with communication than anything else. 

 I was once asked a question which had me describe some characteristics of a type of communication that yielded the fewest misunderstandings with a person.  I can’t really remember if I answered it honestly, but I remember thinking “does it have to be a person?” With no disrespect to my fellows humans, that thought came to mind because the communication I have with my horses is remarkably free of many of the pitfalls of verbal communication that we humans frequently rely on.

Lola creates a space where we can feel safe,
loved, and trusted.

Of course it hasn’t always been so. It took many hours, days and years in the saddle and around the stable to learn the language of the horse, and I am definitely still a student.  There were many misunderstandings along the way, some of which ended up damaging ego or bones.  My horses were never at fault; they didn’t have to learn about communicating with me, but if I were to thrive in their world I would have to make the effort to learn their language. It is not a complicated language, yet nothing can substitute for the time and patience required to learn it.  It is a language learned by doing rather than studying. It is the language of truth; the language of what is; the language of intention, not the language of coercion, manipulation, agendas or flattery so common in verbal languages.

As I learned through guidance, trial and error of such things as balance and pressures and

Our horses work to keep their spaces safe for
each other as well as for us. Bella comforts Lola after a
minor injury.

perceptions and feel, a point came where I was to become less concerned about becoming unseated and so was then able to focus more on how my actions were effectively communicating my desires and acknowledging and rewarding compliance.  At its best, it is a language so incredibly pure that a thought becomes a request by an almost unconscious change in pressure of hand, arm, leg or seat, and expressing gratitude for effort and compliance becomes similarly automatic.  At this level, words can sometimes only get in the way of communication, with the natural exception of a “good girl/ boy” which serves to reinforce communication by its inflection, intonation and intention. Horses are pretty good about figuring out what our intentions are.

Our history has seen many great and notorious orators who used words to bridge a gap between what was, and what was perceived. In some cases, the speakers’ goal was to have the listener believe something other than what actually was.  Are great orators great communicators?  Perhaps not always. Not as good as horses, surely. They are surely not automatically great riders!  In the words on Ben Jonson, “They say princes learn no art truly but the art of horsemanship.  The reason for this is because the noble beast is no flatterer.  He will throw a prince as soon as his groom.”

DannyBoy, a physical giant if not a spiritual one,
provides needed comic relief lest things get too serious.

When people use words to manipulate facts about the past and perceptions about the future, it can exhaust us and make us very skeptical of navigating society.  Our horses exist only in the “now” and communicate only in truth.  They know no other way.  That’s why so many of us see them as a reprieve from the sometimes confusing, sometimes harsh world.  When we become free of the need to act in constant defense of being manipulated, we can begin to be free to be ourselves.

And that’s the real freedom we get from horses, and why I do things that people sometimes don’t understand in order to preserve my relationship with them.

EQUINE GUIDED MEDITATION: When Your Horse Whispers to You...

EQUINE GUIDED MEDITATION:

When Your Horse Whispers To You..     

    

Originally published in Horse Directory, August 2014

By Tom Gumbrecht

Bella is affectionate, but on her terms. She
teaches us to create and respect boundaries
to keep our space safe to be ourselves

I have been known to elicit an uneasy, forced smile or two when describing my horses as meditation facilitators.  I understand, as meditation was once, to me, part of a hocus-pocus world of learned men with a hyper-developed spirituality that I didn’t see myself fitting into.  I have since revised that opinion.

It is often said to fledgling students of spirituality that where prayer is asking a question of, or petitioning a higher power, meditation is listening for the answer.  The rub, many of us find, is creating the space in which our minds can become quiet enough to hear those answers when they are proffered.

I have been fortunate to have had my eyes opened wide enough to discover that environment, forty steps from the back door of our home.  In the barn, often after the evening feeding, I will

Lola helps to create a space where we feel safe, loved
and trusted.

unfold a chair and sit under the ceiling fan and perhaps read a paragraph or two from a book of daily readings that always help to stimulate reflection.  The soft summer sounds of stall fans, crickets, and the methodical munching of hay waft through the gentle breeze and pull me into a simpler time and a comfort that I knew more intimately in my youth.

With my horses surrounding me, I feel needed, trusted, loved and appreciated.  We never have misunderstandings because we don’t use words to communicate.  It is the safest place I know, and it always seems that my mind can open up there because it not busy defending itself from anything.

It has made itself ready to accept direction from the universe and no matter the size of the perplexing problem of the day, the answers, it seems, always come.

Have I slipped over the edge and now taken to deifying my horses?  I don’t think so, but I do believe that a force in the universe, by whatever name we individually like to call such a power, provided me with horses as a way to open a path of communication with that force.  This is just another of the many unexpected gifts I have received since making a commitment fifteen years ago to take three riding lessons which I thought at the time was a reasonable investment to become a horse riding expert!

My ignorance at the time was a gift, because had I been even minutely aware of the degree to which horses would ultimately take over my life, I would have been afraid to pursue it. I would not

Our horses work to keep their space safe for each
other as well as for us. Bella comforts Lola after a  mild injury.

have been able to commit to something that I had known would ultimately change the whole fiber of my being, even though it was for the better.  What I could commit to was three riding lessons.

Lessons went from frustrating to rewarding, which led to more lessons, which led to discovering different disciplines and even more lessons.  Rather than “graduating” from riding lessons, I found that the more knowledge and experience I acquired, it served more to highlight the scope of what I still didn’t know.  My own experiences mirrored what I was to later read in this popular quote:

“Riding horses is not a gentle hobby to be picked up and laid down like a game of solitaire.  It is a grand passion.  It seizes a person whole, and once it has done so he/she will have to accept that his life will be radically changed.” - Ralph Waldo Emerson

It took time to accept of the role of my horses in developing my spiritual self as even more important than their role in transportation, recreation or competition.  The time was well spent.  In my barn, I have a peaceful mind.  I believe that what is meant for me, I will find. My horses have created the environment where that is possible.

 

DannyBoy, a physical giant if not a spiritual one, provides needed comic relief lest things get too serious...

THE SCIENCE OF BONDING: Heart to Heart With a Horse

THE SCIENCE OF BONDING: HEART TO HEART WITH A HORSE   

             

Originally published in Horse Directory,                                March 2014

By Tom Gumbrecht

We as horsepeople are drawn to horses; that seems obvious enough.  When relating our stories about a particular episode that illustrates the horse-human connection, other horsepeople nod in agreement and sometimes finish our sentences, while those who have not been so afflicted might feign interest while stealing glances at their smartphones.  That’s just how it is. Those that understand already know; those that do not, conventional wisdom dictated, likely never will.

Lola makes the author smile:
Science, emotion..or both?

Tales of the horse-human bond, and the feelings of well-being we get from being in the company of horses, are the stuff of novels, poems, plays, movies and countless hours of stories in the barn aisles and tackrooms throughout the world.  They are just that: stories, anecdotal evidence.  We all know this, and most of us appreciate it.  Even if not convinced, non- horsepeople often think our views to be harmless at worst, a little quaint perhaps and maybe even a little charming.  They are our experiences, we enjoy relating them, and they can’t be proven or disproven.  Or can they?

We recently became aware of the work being done at the Institute of HeartMath (IHM) in Colorado which studies the heart as more than just a pump to keep our blood flowing.  Scientists there believe the heart to be the center of not only physical, but emotional and spiritual well- being also, and have undertaken extensive research to support their theories.  It seems that electromagnetic fields surrounding our hearts have the ability to affect other species as well.  Dr. Rollin McCraty, Research Director at the Institute of HeartMath put it this way:

“It appears that there is a type of communication occurring between people above and beyond body language and verbal communication.  I believe we’ll see in future research studies that we are affecting each others’ moods and attitudes, both positively and negatively, by the electromagnetic fields we radiate.  In our work with pets and their owners, we’ve seen that a pet owner can create what we call a heart filled environment when practicing heart- focused techniques.  The pets respond by becoming more affectionate, more animated, and more connected with the pet owner.”

After becoming aware of the work of the IHM in studying heart rate variability as an indicator of feelings of well- being in humans and small animals, Dr. Ellen Kaye Gehrke, who is involved with Equine Assisted Activities and Therapy at her Rolling Horse Ranch in California, began exploring the phenomenon with horses.  In experiments conducted by Dr. Gehrke, following a protocol designed by IHM, studies showed that during exercises that promoted emotional bonding between human and horse, the beat- to- beat fluctuations in the human and horse hearts began to

The author with Circus..
the horse that started it all..

synchronize, and ultimately matched one another. Heart Rate Variability (HRV) reflects heart- brain interactions and is sensitive to changes in emotional states.  It is possible to accurately measure HRV rhythms in both humans and horses and relate those values to those known to reflect a positive emotional state (called a “coherent pattern” by the researchers). That coherent pattern and the positive emotional state it represents, are present when the heart rhythms are synchronized.  Interestingly, that synchronization does not occur with a human subject who is indifferent toward the horse, but quite noticeably appears when subject has interest in the horse. The feeling of well being in certain humans when in proximity of horses is thus recordable and measurable.

For many, these experiments, the content of which I have only just brushed the surface of in these pages, are telling us what we already know.  I have experienced the phenomenon of a changed emotional state by simply being in the proximity of horses in many instances.  Some years ago, we made the decision to purchase horse property.  The house we were selling was comfortable for us physically and financially and we had invested a lot of time and money into making it our own. Sometime during the agonizing summer of buying, selling and moving into a much larger property than I ever expected to live in, fear crept in.. followed by guilt. What was I doing? How could I jeopardize my family’s well being to follow a crazy dream? The frenzied activity of that season left little time for horses and riding.  But one day the stress got so intense that I just shut down and drove to a local riding stable.  I took a horse that I was acquainted with and headed out on trail for a few hours. In five minutes it all became clear; once I was in the physical presence of a horse, it all made sense once again.  Everything will be all right. In fact, everything IS all right!

As a man of words more than a man of science,  I was amused but not totally convinced of the value of technology finding a way to validate our experiences which showed that being in the aura of a horse produced feelings of a positive emotional state and general well- being.  But then I began to see the importance of having what we knew to be true anecdotally, to now be quantifiable, repeatable and recordable by using scientific methods:

Horses help many who have not been able to be helped by more conventional means.  We have all seen or heard stories, or perhaps witnessed or even personally experienced major emotional breakthroughs facilitated by horses.  We marvel at the ability of our equines to provide a safe venue in which to process our most fragile feelings.  Does it matter that researchers have now

The author shares a quiet moment with Lola...

identified that the large magnetic fields surrounding the massive equine heart might be responsible for creating that environment?

It may.  We live in a world where much of the cost of therapeutic treatment is paid for by health care insurance.  Alternative therapies have a much better chance of being funded if there is clinical rather than anecdotal evidence that they work. The current research may open the door for increased funding for programs that produce results for those who need it most… or at least provide these programs with legitimacy to those who may raise a skeptical eyebrow to unconventional therapies.

As one who works with words, I have in the past penned the phrase “the heart of the horse and the heart of the rider beat as one” or something similar, more than once.  It’s fascinating to think that now science supports my beliefs!

To learn more about the science of HeartMath as it relates to horses, follow this link:

isar.dk/wp-content/uploads/2012/02/Dr_Kaye_Article.pdf

Archived articles are available at tcgequine.blogspot.com.  Email the author at tcgequine@gmail.com

Visit us on Facebook: Tom Gumbrecht. Visit my very self-absorbed paint horse on Facebook at The World According To DannyBoy.

A MATTER OF TRUST

A MATTER OF TRUST

Originally published in Horse Directory,                                                               December 2013

By Tom Gumbrecht

I guess we all believe that we know about trust. I know I did. But until I began my journey with horses, I didn't realize how much I had to learn. I was of course familiar with the Webster definition:

Trust

n. Reliance on the truth, character, ability or strength of someone or something.

v. To place confidence in.

 

Early lessons in trust taught by Laura Ruben,
trainer, and OTTB Lola

From the beginning of my equestrian pursuits, I was forever being told to "trust my horse." Looking back, I had but little trust and it showed, mainly in my hands. I had what many a trainer called "the death grip." I didn't think I had the death grip. I thought I had a firm grip, and that a firm grip was warranted. It was the same grip I had used years ago in sailing my boat in a squall, and landing an airplane in a crosswind. A firm grip. A very, very firm grip.

But horses are not objects or machines to be controlled, they are parters with whom we collaborate. The casual observer could not have known that for me, the mere act of getting on a horse required a tremendous amount of faith. I loved horses and wanted more than anything to learn not only to ride them but to someday jump in competition. Fear held me back. I was scared of getting physically hurt, but I was perhaps more scared of falling short, of not being able to cut it as a middle aged beginner. I had enough faith in the person who put me on my first horse to allay some of my fears. From that faith developed trust. I chose to have faith in the person who said that I was going to be all right, and began to trust once I actually was, relatively, all right.

For much of my life, I thought that trust was one of those "nice-to-have" things that developed or didn't develop over time. Nice when it comes, but also okay if it doesn't. The extent to which trust developed or didn't develop merely changed the dynamics of the relationship. In taking up riding, I was to learn a different way to think..

In the pursuit of competence in riding, I found, for myself, that trust is a requirement in order to get past a level of mediocrity. My mind had been toying with that concept for a while, when a well-accomplished rider told me during a chance meeting in a discussion about training that one of the biggest problems he observed was students riding with trainers who they did not trust. "If you can't trust your trainer 100%, find a new one" was how he put it.  He sort of rocked my world.

In riding, I had always thought of trust in terms of trusting my horse. But his point made perfect sense. In attempting to make progress in riding, we are constantly asked to leave our comfort zone. If there is not full trust in the person doing the asking, I will question the request, perhaps doubting the person's knowledge, intent, caring or motivation. Once that happens, even a little bit, the process shifts from "listen-execute" to "listen-evaluate-analyze-judge-agonize-possibly execute." Not the pathway to success for a rider. It's much too complicated, while mounted and attempting to execute a challenging maneuver, to be second guessing the person who is teaching me. Once I do, the opportunity to be effective has passed, the horse is confused, I am disheartened and the trainer is frustrated.

Experiences like that sometimes caused me to question my ability to even learn. Perhaps I was too old, too uncoordinated, too egocentric. I thought that maybe things that I struggled with were incredibly complex and it was just beyond my ability to comprehend. Actually all that was missing was that I had not learned to trust. Once that changed, everything changed. Two words changed everything for me, once I trusted enough to believe them: "You're fine!" She feels like she wants to buck. "You're fine. You can ride out a buck." She's really building up speed. "You're fine. You know how to handle it." What if she stops at a fence again? "You're fine. You have a good seat." What if she drops a shoulder at the canter? "You're fine. You ride with your shoulders back and your heels down so nothing will happen" What was THAT? Multiple bucks, a spin, and the drop of a shoulder!! "Congratulations. You have just seen the absolute worst this horse has to offer, I promise you. And you survived. From now on, anything this horse does will at best please you or at worst amuse you because there is nothing she can do that you can't handle."

Powerful words, that I learned to actually believe. In a safe and supportive learning environment, I learned to trust my trainer 100% of the time, and my horse 90% of the time. We are working on the remaining 10%, but we are worlds away from where we once were, when I trusted only my own judgment and believed that everything required my utmost scrutiny.

The payoff comes in the form of a huge grin whenever I ride my off-the racetrack Thoroughbred mare Lola over a short course of fences in nothing but a halter and slack lead rope. She needed me to trust her enough to let her be the magnificent horse that she is. She couldn't do that with me wanting to be in control of her every freedom of movement. Who could?

In the past, I had feared a struggle, and my attempt to control something that had not yet happened actually created that which I had feared. It makes me wonder how many other things in life I had created or at least facilitated by my perceived need to control and my inability to trust.

Magnificence, it turns out, does not flourish in a stranglehold. On a horse or anywhere. This is a lesson that I could learn only from a horse. Silently uttered by every horse everywhere, and available for reference whenever we are ready, is much wisdom:

"To enter my world you must trust me with your heart.

To trust me so deeply you must first trust yourself.

For where we travel with our spirits entwined,

Will be on a path of trust.." - Anonymous

Archived stories are available at tcgequine.blogspot.com Email us at tcgequine@gmail.com, Tweet us @tcgelec, or friend us on Facebook.com/TomGumbrecht. Our gregarious Paint gelding, DannyBoy, is on Facebook also: facebook.com/TheWorldAccordingToDannyBoy