Anna Blake's Blog, page 25

What Horses Want to “Talk” About.

 

What is it about the snout of an old horse? Especially a pink and black muzzle? How can it seem so wise to me? Or is it that over thirty years with this horse, I finally got wise to him? I confess that I disregarded his opinion in the early days. Disregarding the opinions of an Appaloosa is short-sighted, but other breeds agree.

Is there anything we romanticize more than what we think horses say? We think they are lazy. We think they only care about food and make a joke about it because grazing inconveniences us. We decide they are bored as if a prey animal has the luxury of zoning-out in this chaotic world. We can tell what they don’t like, hooves planted and ears flat, but we think there are things that they just love, although there isn’t a ready sign of that emotion that is near the clarity of a horse spooking.

Then the day comes that we see a perfect horse. He is standing quietly while other horses are being flighty or looks steady because his head is still, or the angle of his nose is at a magical angle we arbitrarily judge as perfect. He’s a push-button horse with church manners. Except when you get close and see his eyes are flat and dull. Is this what you love about horses?

Most of us started with horses but telling them they were wrong. We stood around mushy-eyed about loving horses and then wacked them for moving their feet or snapped their rope for coming too close, even if the other half the time we crowd in close to hug them. We created a language of fault and correction. 

It isn’t that we don’t listen to horses. We listen to stories we make up about them. While we are asking them to do something, we listen for the right answer. We correct the first five answers the horse gives us because the answer isn’t the one we want. Or we disagree that the scary thing in the bushes is real. Sure, his senses are much more acute than ours, but we think we’re naturally superior and if we say it isn’t scary, the horse should agree.

Like simply telling a timid rider there is nothing to be afraid of would be a resolution to all her anxiety. So, you there, just stop being afraid. Poof. And you’re welcome. Glad we got over that. 

But we didn’t. We felt unheard and lost trust. Did people tell you your behavior was more important than your thoughts? That you weren’t smart enough or that you should shut up and put a smile on your face when you were feeling the opposite? Anyone else being reminded of teen angst right now? 

I’m lucky. When I left home, I was so untethered that even I could tell I needed help. I fell in love with therapy because a crazy thing happened there. The therapist took me at my word. Unprecedented, it gave me footing and the tiniest shred of confidence that I wasn’t as crazy as I felt. Therapy never starts with being told you’re wrong and your feelings always matter. For some of us, that affirmation is a lifeline.

One day another trainer asked if I was giving a riding lesson or doing therapy. I realized I can’t tell the difference and I’m proud of that. If your goal with your horse is trust and partnership, then we must take stock of how much of our conversation with them is even passively adversarial. It’s a radical thought, but what if we just believe horses? What if we accept them, even at their worst?

This is not a simple task. Our personal safety is crucial. We’re the ones who buy the hay. And our horses need to become solid citizens, for their own welfare. But once a horse is panicking, no amount of yelling RELAX! is going to work. 

What does a horse want to talk about? Himself, of course. He might be telling you he’s in pain by resisting. His muzzle might tell you he has gastric distress, his ears might tell you there is danger, his breathing will follow his emotions without fail. But it’s all about him. Is he being evasive because he has a bad work ethic? No, a work ethic is a human construct, made up by employers, is my guess. If he’s evasive it’s an honest opinion, most likely about being micromanaged. But even that is all about him. He expects you to remember his nature because he can’t ignore or override it. He doesn’t care about your goals or your shortcomings. Bottom line: it’s all about him. 

Even this: Your horse doesn’t care about arenas or trail riding. He cares about how he is made to feel. It’s on us is to offer better acceptance of our horses, when it’s our nature to think it’s all about us. The resolution is that we postpone the response we desire and accept the one we get from our horses. The rest is negotiation and the art of inspiring confidence. If I work affirmatively toward a trot that makes my horse feel relaxed, the arena becomes a massage parlor.

Let’s go back to the beginning before we made their normal behaviors right and wrong, good or bad. Start where your horse is at and say it’s perfect. If he has anxiety, it doesn’t teach him that anxiety is good. Horses are much smarter than that. It’s a way of letting him know that there is a calm and positive way to deal with anxiety. When we look at the anxiety with curiosity and release him from the need to defend himself from our training methods, he can take the time he needs to resolve his emotions. Confidence is nurtured by allowing the horse to find his balance mentally. 

Can we be more selfless, receptive to his answer because it isn’t personal? Have the strength to not jump to conclusions, to not react with emotion, but rather respond with acceptance, keeping your body soft and your cues small. Patiently maintain a quiet anxiety-free bubble where your horse can come to trust you. Not because you are kind, but because he feels safe. It’s still all about him. 

Start by breathing deep and letting him hear you exhale. He might not mimic you on the first try, so in a clear soft voice, say “Good boy.” Not because he is being good right now; throw it to him like a lifeline. Then ask for something simple, like a step forward, and reward him for that. Not because it’s a complicated task, but because you want to remind him that you are capable of not complaining about everything he does. Find common ground with your horse in acceptance that regardless of your plans, it’s always going to be about him.

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Anna Blake for Relaxed & Forward Want more? Visit The Relaxed & Forward Barn School to see our class schedule, online courses, and virtual clinics available on a revolving basis on Calming Signals, Affirmative Training, and More. Join our community there. Or go to AnnaBlake.com to find out more, book a live consultation or lesson, subscribe for email delivery of this blog, or ask a question about the art and science of working with horses. Join us in The Barn, our online training group with video sharing, audio blogs, live chats with Anna, and so much more.

The post What Horses Want to “Talk” About. appeared first on Anna Blake.

Poetry Out Loud: Walking the Dog

Poetry, Walking the Dog

Walking the Dog

There was a message on my phone.

My dog was ready to come home,

they said. It was just her ashes,

they didn’t say. Never one to be

put on a shelf, we took one last

walk together around the farm, her

cremains, I guess, tucked under my

arm. She usually bounds ahead of me,

turning to make sure I’m coming.

She usually stands just beside me

when I stop. She usually has a wild

rambunctious pride. Where did she

love best? The truck, of course.

She’d be sitting there waiting,

ready to load up. The gate to the

barn; we met there several times

a day. The pond to the west; she’d

splash and bring that wild scent to

bed at night. A prairie breeze kicks

and I can see her profile; nose

lifted, her coat blown back. She’s

facing down the wind. Shall I let

the wind have her now? I stroll

between memories, passing under the

barn tree, swings hanging in the

cool shade. Carrying the weight of

an old dog, nothing left but bones,

is heavier than I expected. Once more,

I wish her lightness from her used-

up body, as I go inside and put the

container on a shelf by a faded dog

bed. We’ll take another walk tomorrow.

 

…

Anna Blake for Relaxed & Forward

Want more? Visit The Relaxed & Forward Barn School to see our class schedule, online courses and virtual clinics available on a revolving basis on Calming Signals, Affirmative Training, and More. Join our community there. Or go to AnnaBlake.com to find out more, book a live consultation or lesson, subscribe for email delivery of this blog, or ask a question about the art and science of working with horses. Join us in The Barn, our online training group with video sharing, audio blogs, live chats with Anna, and so much more.

The post Poetry Out Loud: Walking the Dog appeared first on Anna Blake.

Requiem for an Old Truck

req·ui·em/ˈrekwēəm/noun 1.(especially in the Roman Catholic Church) a Mass for the repose of the souls of the dead.

There is something about a three-quarter-ton pick-up, once I manage to make the standing leap into the cab and crank up the air conditioning to the “jet-engine” setting, that seductively whispers in my ear, “Perfect Purse.” It’s a flawless carryall for a certain sort of woman. For the years that I was on the road training in Colorado, I always brought a saddle, an oversize first aid kit including colic remedies, and a bucket of bits. Of course, I had a few sizes of halters in case I came upon any strays that needed wrangling, and two or three dog beds.

I bought my last used truck fourteen years ago. It had been a no-frills work truck, half of the dashboard gadgets didn’t work, but it had low miles. It also dropped its transmission the first month I had it. By the second month, I had repair bills that added up to just less than I paid for the truck and a reputation with tow truck drivers with dog hair aversions. How bad of a lemon was it? Friends who were watching the debacle unfold felt so sorry for me that they all chipped in and bought me a set of tires. Alas, the truck and I were in a long-term relationship at least until I was out of debt.

Eventually, I’d replaced most everything under the hood and it stopped breaking down, so I drove it through a few more sets of tires. It carried posts and wire when I re-fenced the farm. It stayed between the yellow lines on the road pulling horses home in ground blizzards more than once, always with a good dog or two in the passenger seat. After we crossed 200,000 miles, I stopped looking at the odometer. Last Christmas eve, I’d scored a huge bunch of fence panels from a Christmas tree lot, loaded them into my horse trailer, and headed home. The truck and I had time to talk on a long slow trudge up a long slow incline and I took the hint. The truck wasn’t dead yet, but it wasn’t going to outlive me.

With the help of a friend, a new truck was found, a beautiful monster in a sweet horse-manure-brown color with a huge chrome cowcatcher on front. All its dashboard implements work simultaneously. It’s a whole other kind of purse entirely. More like an evening bag… if you’re a certain sort of woman. It arrived and then parked beside the house for the next three weeks waiting for temporary tags. Some of the joy was killed by a COVID loan delay, followed by a weirder-than-usual pandemic at the DMV.  Okay, I did drive it around the round pen a couple of times honking the horn at the geldings. It has a horn!

But I dawdled trying to figure how much my old truck was worth at nineteen years old. Should I donate it? Meanwhile, I got mushy driving it to the feed store. Things got positively weepy as I cleaned it out. I emptied the glove box filled with scribbled addresses of past clients, pulled my writing notebook off the dashboard, the jumper cables from under the seat, my extra jack, and that can of grease that’s rolled around for a decade. I just stared at a few old dressage pads in the gap between the front seats; the wool cooler on the floor in the back.

You’re like me. You can recognize a single strand of hair from a dog that died a few years back. It can be a sunny day and just like that, your lungs explode out your tear ducts. A memory of loss never goes away completely. Yes, I have dogs now, and this old truck became haunted early on, but the enormity of knowing I had lost more dogs than I would have in the future sucker-punched my heart and took my breath. I ached for the smell of puppy breath.

I thought of the line of good dogs who sat in the passenger seat and watched me give riding lessons. I called the truck their IMAX crate.  When the driver’s side door was open, they’d sit behind the wheel waiting. They didn’t want out, they wanted me in. Dogs helped me find this farm and helped me survive the first years here. Some of the dogs came home for the first time in this truck, lost and afraid. We built my horse business driving over backroads and freeways together. The only way I can tell time is by the dogs that were there with me. Giving up this truck is the end of an era.

I sprayed Windex and wiped the last of the nose prints, remembering the dogs that rode in the blue truck before this white truck. The dogs who worked in the gallery with me over a 30-year art career when I had the red truck. The dogs that stayed when humans left. The dogs that walked me at night and then, pushed tight against me so I could sleep. The good dogs all the way back to my first VW Bug. The absolute best and worst days of my life have ended with me and a dog, bumping down the road, being relieved to share each other’s company.

Will I ever let those dogs rest in peace?

The Craigslist ad read: For Sale: Ford Truck, not a city truck. It was used for the purpose it was built for- farm work and hauling. Decent tires, Tow package. Nothing fancy, bumpers have been bumped, honest scrapes and dings. Tailgate missing for your loading convenience. Jump seat missing for your dog’s convenience. Cash only. No dealers.

There were so many texts in the morning, that I worried about parking. The first looker arrived, the man introduced himself and his wife. He checked under the hood and asked if I would start it. More questions, then could he test drive it. He opened the back door to his car, and with extreme politeness, asked me if his dog could get in the truck. With a chuckle, I assured him she wouldn’t be the first and opened the dog door. Others call it the suicide door. The three of them went for a test drive. Back just a moment later, he said he’d take it and offered full price. As I signed the title over, he asked if he could borrow the plates to get home. He promised to return them, showing me his military ID. I thanked him for his service, and he added that his dog was an emotional support dog. He said her name was Hero. I turned to look at her; a chocolate lab sitting behind the wheel with everything under control.

Click to view slideshow.

“And in this conditional world, it’s only dogs who believe in free love. Friendships naturally ebb and flow, the circle of life can’t be controlled or altered much, but dog love is eternal. Let there always be dogs.” -Anna Blake

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Anna Blake for Relaxed & Forward

Want more? Visit The Relaxed & Forward Barn School to see our class schedule, online courses and virtual clinics available on a revolving basis on Calming Signals, Affirmative Training, and More. Join our community there. Or go to AnnaBlake.com to find out more, book a live consultation or lesson, subscribe for email delivery of this blog, or ask a question about the art and science of working with horses. Join us in The Barn, our online training group with video sharing, audio blogs, live chats with Anna, and so much more.

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Poetry Out Loud: Loss

 

https://annablake.com/wp-content/uploads/2020/08/117355569_595980631109181_4472002069131771909_n.mp4

 

By request. Thanks, everyone.

Loss

The sun leaves just the sky behind,

a watery arch over the prairie,

and my feet cling to the ground

unwilling to let loose of this day

for its beauty and possibility

and loss. There is always loss.

In the moment of light remaining

just a pause to ask my jaw to

soften; to be glad of the sadness

that marks this day worthy of memory,

giving dimension to silhouettes

and music to the moments that grow

special in hindsight. Moments that

lift my stride again, fixed to a

simple wealth of earth and sky.

 

 

 

 

…

Anna Blake for Relaxed & Forward

Want more? Visit The Relaxed & Forward Barn School to see our class schedule, online courses and virtual clinics available on a revolving basis on Calming Signals, Affirmative Training, and More. Join our community there. Or go to AnnaBlake.com to find out more, book a live consultation or lesson, subscribe for email delivery of this blog, or ask a question about the art and science of working with horses. Join us in The Barn, our online training group with video sharing, audio blogs, live chats with Anna, and so much more.

The post Poetry Out Loud: Loss appeared first on Anna Blake.

Is Affirmative Training Denial?

It was during a meeting in an online class called Back in the Saddle. We’d shared videos of the week’s work, each participant moving ahead at their own pace and level, and each person paired with a unique horse with a history of his own. Some were bringing horses back from time off, some of the people had taken time off. I’m an affirmative trainer and listening to me chirp on about the changes I see in the horses could get tiresome. The cheering and fist pumps during videos, my incessant big teeth. Does the positive talk wear thin?

The horse takes a few steps away, he needs to move, and that’s good. I talk about his calming signals, as they relate to brain function. More praise, it might not be the answer we hoped for, but the horse gets his say. How can I help but fall for these horses? Especially the stoic ones. Chirp, chirp. And the commitment I see in the participants, recognizing the effort it takes to stay the course and continue to listen and try when it seems nothing is happening. The courage to trust an answer that isn’t flattering, stay in the conversation with the horse, and ask again. Chirpy-chirp. I think the participants are nothing short of heroic for being so vulnerable. Naturally, I can’t help it when I see someone hurl a big exhale. CHIRP-chirp-chirp. CHIRP! Does the bliss-ninny chirping get on your nerves, just a bit?

Someone asked the best question ever. “How can we trust your praise when you don’t correct us?”

It was like asking if white existed without black. The question has nudged me all week. Are we waiting for the other shoe to fall? Holding our breath because we dread correction, but think we might deserve it? We know there’s constant stress on our systems when we habitually expect the worst but at the same time, can right exist if we are not affirming all the wrong we see. Are we ever right enough to feel safe? Is this how horses feel?

I took the question to Bhim. He weighs less than the goat and ranks in my lifetime top ten list of interesting horses. He came here from a local rescue for training after crossing a couple of state lines, roughing up a cowboy or two, and developing a grudge the size of Africa. I did not turn him around in thirty days. Or ninety. A mini who hates people doesn’t have a lot of options, but by then Edgar Rice Burro had taken to him, so he stayed.

Now that time was unlimited, my training plan was to accept him just the way he was. Yes, he had to tolerate a halter and stand for the farrier, holding his breath while she hummed to him and kept it quick. Hoof care isn’t negotiable but he didn’t have to like her. Or me. That was six years ago and we’ve both had time to think. Bhim continues to nurse his grudge. Seeing any human puts him on full alert. What if he isn’t wrong? His biggest problem is still me. I see him as perfect and he knows he’s damaged and somehow, it’s my fault. Twisted logic, but I accept that.

Maybe you think I should be grooming him. He hates it and I accept that. Maybe you think I should demand he let me do something with that crazy mane. Take a look at mine; who am I to judge? Everything feels like a correction to him and correction of any kind will affirm his worst fears. Can you relate?

There is absolutely nothing to gain if the only conversation he understands is being wrong. I accept that, too. If all the judging and correcting has made him deaf to humans, I understand. I refuse to create more anxiety, and feeling sorry for him doesn’t help him. Being a rescue might be a normal condition. We have all been failed by people, we are all recovering from loss. And human or horse, we have learned all we ever need to know about fear and punishment. It stops here.

Last month, Bhim got his head stuck between the shed and a gate. The more he pulled, the more he was stuck. By the time I found him, the ground was torn deep. He hates touch on a good day; coming up on his rear would be impossible. I could see blood. The quiet sound of my voice set off a bigger fight, bucking backward from the gate and at the same time, away from me. He was hysterical, he didn’t hear me praise him, and his flight response wasn’t working. He exploded, pulling back with all his might, as I pushed the gate forward, the only way to release the chain but in the process, squeezing his head tighter. Am I destroying years of work with him? We both bore down, in total opposition. Good boy, I grunted as he desperately fought me. That long moment of dread. Is he different than a wild animal caught in a trap? Finally, after a huge exhale, he paused an instant and I wedged the chain free. He stood back, his legs braced. I’m still chirping praise. His eyes are okay but both sides of his temple area are scraped and bloody. He isn’t moving his neck right. The last thing he needs is my anxiety, so I give him hay, but he spits it out. I haul water close but watch from a distance. After dark he takes a bite of mush. He’s breathing normally now. I can’t make any of this okay, so remind him he’s a good boy and go inside. In the morning he looked better.

This week, Bhim wandered up and extended his nose while I was spraying Edgar’s legs. It doesn’t take a genius to see how flyspray works. Since he asked, I sprayed Bhim’s front legs exactly twice. Then I chirped and left the pen. No need to get greedy.

Affirmative training isn’t ignoring bad things, especially as drama and angst are washing over us. There is no denying the darkness is there all the time, it continues whether we affirm it or not. Is the quality of our suffering dulled by insisting on seeing the light? Is it okay to feel good? A question: is optimism silly or an act of rebellion over our horse’s past and our own? It sounds inane, chirping into a headwind isn’t easy, but there is dynamic power when we truly accept ourselves and our horses, imperfect as we are. No excuses, no threats, just the safety of yes.

…

Anna Blake for Relaxed & Forward

Want more? Visit The Relaxed & Forward Barn School to see our class schedule, online courses and virtual clinics available on a revolving basis on Calming Signals, Affirmative Training, and More. Join our community there. Or go to AnnaBlake.com to find out more, book a live consultation or lesson, subscribe for email delivery of this blog, or ask a question about the art and science of working with horses. Join us in The Barn, our online training group with video sharing, audio blogs, live chats with Anna, and so much more.

Working with riders of any discipline and horses of any breed, Anna believes affirmative dressage training principals build a relaxed & forward foundation that crosses over all riding disciplines in the same way that the understanding Calming Signals benefits all equine communication.

…

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Poetry Out Loud: Wish

 

I’m changing things up a bit. I’ll be posting video of my poetry being read on Mondays. You can find us on Facebook live at 8am on my author page here  and if there is interest, I’ll post the videos here, as well. It’s all in prep for my new poetry collection this fall, Horse. Woman. I’m in the final edit, and working with a pen and ink illustrator.

To begin, the first poem from Horse Prayers.

 

https://annablake.com/wp-content/uploads/2020/08/116200172_234464207601609_8960467740224720821_n.mp4

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Anna Blake for Relaxed & Forward

Want more? Visit The Relaxed & Forward Barn School to see our class schedule, online courses and virtual clinics available on a revolving basis on Calming Signals, Affirmative Training, and More. Join our community there. Or go to AnnaBlake.com to find out more, book a live consultation or lesson, subscribe for email delivery of this blog, or ask a question about the art and science of working with horses. Join us in The Barn, our online training group with video sharing, audio blogs, live chats with Anna, and so much more.

The post Poetry Out Loud: Wish appeared first on Anna Blake.

Distraction: A Simple Answer for Bright Shiny Things

 

Is your horse distracted? Is he always swinging his head at every noise? Does he knock you with his shoulder or just stop and freeze? Now people are coming. What will they think seeing you standing flat-footed with your horse looking like he might spontaneously combust? Maybe you jangle the rope; did you read that was the right thing to do? Run him back and try to be scarier than what he’s looking at? Or whack your whip on the ground. Maybe you whack him. Not to hurt him, just enough to get his attention. But the popper startles him, almost what you wanted, and then his hooves start hopping but you’re still standing like a deer in headlights watching him dance around, just knowing you’re gonna get stepped on. So, you see his hoof coming to land right on your foot. The Law of Attraction.

Maybe your horse is distracted but you are a positive thinker, so you stand there affirming your love for this horse who is acting like a headless chicken. You say, “Whoa. Whoa. Whoa.” As you reach to pet him, he moves back, almost bumping some trash cans, but because you know your touch would soothe him, you keep reaching for him. Even if you’re nervous. Love is the answer. The closer you come to touch him, the farther he skitters away, still looking at the thing you can’t see. But as he retreats, his hind crashes into the trash cans, and bottles, cans, and plastic spray in all directions. He got the recycles! His hoof unintentionally crushes a can and he spins around, knocking you sideways just as you yell, “Whoa. Whoa. Whoa.” You don’t fall, but you do take a few of those flailing-for-balance steps, leaning on the lead rope to stay up, but you still manage to sprain your ankle. In hindsight, you saw it coming, not that hindsight is helpful now.

Is your horse overreacting? Are you? And to tell the truth, your horse wasn’t distracted. His focus consistently stayed on his question about the environment. He’s hardwired to stay alive by using his senses to be aware of danger. That’s what it means to be a horse. Is it ever fair to ask a horse to ignore his surroundings? Or are we confusing horses for dogs? Are horses supposed to stare at us like a Labrador when we’re holding a ball? But wait, is the dog focused on you or the ball?

When did trying to frighten fear away ever work? It’s gas on the fire. Should a horse take our word for it, exhale and relax, because we love them? And who elected us the center of the universe, anyway? The more we try to distract him, the more focused/frantic he becomes. At the same time, the horse isn’t ignoring you. He can’t; remember he’s hardwired to the environment? The real question is have you switched sides and become part of the dangerous chaos?

How to fix this? By the time a horse is in his flight response, it’s too late. Give him some room; it’s why we use a long lead rope. Get out of his space and breathe. Notice what happens and believe it. Rather than giving corrections, give him peace and room to settle himself. Hold space for him to find the answer. Give him the time he needs to self-soothe. And in the meantime, stay safe yourself and chip away at the notion we deserve blind obedience.

To begin, do no harm. Stacking up challenges isn’t going to resolve anything, but we can make a decision to not be part of the problem. Look to yourself first. Is it fair to ask your horse to have a longer attention span than yours? When you are around your horse, do you feel scattered and doubtful? Do you forget most of what you need and have to retrace steps? Are you checking your to-do list for the day while haltering him? Do you stop to listen to friends rant about their problems while you’re grooming?

Horses notice everything. They will tell you that multi-tasking is the same thing as being an erratic thinker. It’s being inconsistent and unreliable. The busier we get, the more impatient we are, the less connected we are. If you find yourself hating a hoof pick, it’s time to sit down. Instead of doing a handful of things poorly, just do one thing thoughtfully. As you pause to think about what that might look like, notice that your horse seems almost introspective. The Law of Attraction again, but better results this time.

We often swing between being too complacent to micromanaging, not that we notice our own inconsistency. The place to start is to notice when you are present in the moment. Make that your new home base. Become equine-aware of the environment. Is there a breeze? What can you feel with your feet? Prioritize the reality of the now. Stand a few feet away. Be an autonomous thing and stop pushing. Trust your horse to be drawn to you for the right reasons, while he is standing in autonomy. Converse with him by acknowledging what he sees, responding to his calming signals. Separate beings in a shared world.

Training is a bit of a self-important term. It has the soul-killing stink of domination to it. We are amiable when we groom and tack up but get too serious when we begin working horses. We forget that what we are working on isn’t as important as understanding each other. We forget we’re on the same side. The problem with being defensive is we create distance when horses need our confidence the most.

Teach yourself to notice the smallest incident, when things just start to separate. Right then, pause mend it while the anxiety is small. Find a way to say yes, align yourself with your horse. Refuse to be defensive, instead find a forward affirmative approach. Celebrate curiosity. Smile and lead your horse to a safer place in his mind. If training feels complicated, you’re doing too much. Cut the moment into tiny pieces, one at a time, so nothing is too big. Know that well-formed small bricks are a firm foundation. No drama. Create a habit of confidence and wellbeing. Good training is done in small moments on good days. Hone your self-focus, learn to choose a better response within you. Trust your horse to sense that. Consistency is being dependable. Consistency is safety.

Comes the day that the two of you spot something in the distance. A bright shiny thing to appreciate and share.

…

Anna Blake for Relaxed & Forward

Want more? Visit annablake.com to see our class schedule, online courses available on a revolving basis on Calming Signals, Affirmative Training, and More. You can book a live consultation or lesson, subscribe for email delivery of this blog, or ask a question about the art and science of working with horses. Join us in The Barn, our online training group with video sharing, audio blogs, live chats with Anna, and so much more.

Working with riders of any discipline and horses of any breed, Anna believes affirmative dressage training principals build a relaxed & forward foundation that crosses over all riding disciplines in the same way that the understanding Calming Signals benefits all equine communication.

The post Distraction: A Simple Answer for Bright Shiny Things appeared first on Anna Blake.

Photo & Poem: Her Words

If her words didn’t matter, her father would

lift his eyes from the television commercials

and not busy his mouth with coffee. Her

mother would stop dusting, looking sternly

at the baseboards. If her words didn’t matter

her boss would not interrupt her in time to

claim the idea as his own. Her boyfriend

would not smother her mouth with kisses,

to hush uncomfortable conversations. If there

was less truth perhaps we could talk but what

response? If her words didn’t matter, we would

not ignore them until she doubts their worth.

…

Anna Blake for Relaxed & Forward 

Want more from this horse trainer who writes prose and poetry? Visit annablake.com to see all five of my published works and purchase signed editions. Look for a new offering of poems to be released this fall entitled Horse. Woman.

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Calming Signals and What You Can’t Unsee.

 

Here’s our barn rat. She started earlier than most. Now, she’s tall and smart and brave and what we used to call coltish. Her mom is my friend and boarder, and her little sister is extremely cool, too. Our barn rat helps with chores, does daring feats on the horse swing, and has a soft spot for our geldings. She and I are both between riding horses right now.

We’ve been physical distancing, but they all came out to the barn last week. I kept my mask on, and much harder, kept my distance. Hannah casually announced that she’d seen me talking in a video. “How’d I do?” I asked and she said, “Pretty good,” and we dropped it. It was a better rating than I would have gotten from most nine-year-olds. Andante’s been slightly off and her mom was checking his hooves. He gave a small lick and chew. Our barn rat pointed and said, “Calming Signal.” I yelled “Yes” through my mask but loud enough to be heard in the next county. The more we listened, the more Andante had to say.

We’ve always talked with her about listening to the horse’s feelings, but we don’t use the fancy title. Now Hannah had seen a video that attached the words for it. For the next hour, she and I listened to all the horses as she pointed out calming signals and asked questions. Don’t think this is a cute kid’s story. They were tough, curious questions and I’ve never treated her like a kid. The glitter years were hard for me, I admit, but she’d just connected the idea that calming signals had meaning. Had she understood what she was supposed to be listening for previously? Do you? Everywhere we looked, goat included, we saw calming signals. The barn was filled with conversations.

Isn’t that the thing about calming signals? Once you see them in context, you just can’t unsee them.

It doesn’t matter if you’re a longtime pro trainer or a nine-year-old; a novice horse owner, and a lifelong horse person who has studied with the best trainers. You’re smart. It doesn’t take long to figure out not all training techniques work on all horses, but authentic listening does work on every horse. Calming signals are a way of listening more deeply and effectively. Loving horses is easy, but seeing the world from their perspective is another thing entirely.

In the beginning, you might hear unpleasant things from your horse. Your feelings might get squeezed if you find out that a “funny, cute, or unusual” face is a pain signal. Or that look of contentment might be the polar opposite. If you don’t take it personally, you also have the chance to help what’s hurting or creating anxiety. You can give your horse a break on a rough day and show some compassion. You can open a door to a better relationship, and performance horse or trail buddy, isn’t that the thing we’ve all wanted since we were kids?

Before long, calming signals are louder than words. Cats are looking at you sideways, dogs babble on telling you every secret they’ve ever had, and you’re leading chickens from behind. Eventually, understanding humans even becomes easier.

Best of all, that stoic old gelding has started giving you a different eye. It’ll take time for a stoic guy like him to feel safe, but you definitely want to hear what he has to say. This part gets bittersweet because memories come back of experiences we want to forget. Moments when we failed our horses, even if we did just what we were taught. Or we met a horse who just couldn’t respond correctly (give the answer we wanted) and we got frustrated. We tried a few approaches but nothing worked and then the horse was confused. He’s smart enough to know he’s failed a few tests and now he isn’t sure it’s even safe to try. And the biggest connection the two of you have is that you feel the same way, but now you can’t unsee him. We get emotional about his emotions. Can you hear me yell “yes” through my mask?

The first step is noticing your own confusion about the horse’s emotions. It wouldn’t be the worst thing to languish here in limbo a bit and take honest stock of where you want to go now. It’s peeling back layers to see from the horse’s side, to understand what it means to be an animal with a flight response in a world where people count on domestication and getting their way. I hope this lands so squarely that romantic notions die on the spot. Because horses need us in the now and reality is better than the fantasy every was anyway. In this moment you don’t quite know how to proceed.

This is the moment that fundamental change is possible. Take your time, let it be okay to not know everything. You’ll be staring like a coyote and not holding up your end of the conversation, but there is value in acknowledging the unsteady ground. Letting go of old habits doesn’t happen instantly. Acting in dominant ways, even if you didn’t like it, is a hard voice to let go of. If we’re not correcting our horse constantly, what do we say? When we see the horse as an intelligent feeling animal with thoughts of his own, what do we do with that? For all our talk about connection and partnership, we gain a deeper idea of what it means to have two voices in the conversation. How do we incorporate that into how we deal with horses?

We know that answer; it’s just buried under years of misinformation about horses and training. Equine brain science says that horse behavior can change if horses can be encouraged to build new neuropathways and then receive a neurochemical reward. Want that in English? The activity of being curious feels good and is also the key to mental growth and health for horses.

It’s no different in our brains. Did you allow yourself to get shutdown about horses? Have we forgotten the wonder that drew us to horses in the first place? Wake up your inner barn rat. She dozed off right when you got boring but she’s as still as curious as you want your horse to be. Curiosity might be the most affirmative connection we can have with horses. When we get engaged, our brain grows some dendrites and releases neurochemicals, too.

How does that feel? Just like falling in love all over again. But this time we listen better.

Click to view slideshow.

 

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Anna Blake for Relaxed & Forward

Want more? Visit The Relaxed & Forward Barn School to see our class schedule, online courses and virtual clinics available on a revolving basis on Calming Signals, Affirmative Training, and More. Join our community there. Or go to AnnaBlake.com to find out more, book a live consultation or lesson, subscribe for email delivery of this blog, or ask a question about the art and science of working with horses. Join us in The Barn, our online training group with video sharing, audio blogs, live chats with Anna, and so much more.

Working with riders of any discipline and horses of any breed, Anna believes affirmative dressage training principals build a relaxed & forward foundation that crosses over all riding disciplines in the same way that the understanding Calming Signals benefits all equine communication.

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Photo & Poem: Weather Change

Hail blown sideways by the wind, dark clouds

churning across the horizon, as the horses

brace against the stinging ice pellets, their

noses tucked tight to their chests, running

for shelter. A stark reminder on this hot

summer day, torn leaves stripped to the

ground, intermingled with ice, standing

water everywhere, that seasons so long

awaited are shifting already. That all that

is worthy of love will pass from our grip.

Just as the dark clouds break to a faded light

beyond the edge of view, pale baby-colored

clouds sweeten the sky, the air scrubbed clean.

The whiplash give-and-take of nature deftly

abraded the paint on the barn and my battered

resistance softened to the color of a bruised sky.

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Anna Blake for Relaxed & Forward 

Want more from this horse trainer who writes prose and poetry? Visit annablake.com to see all five of my published works and purchase signed editions. Look for a new offering of poems to be released this fall entitled Horse. Woman.

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