Find Your People – a lesson in honoring your authentic self
I stood quietly in the center of the arena, my arms loose at my sides, my energy low, my gaze soft. I turned slowly, taking small, quiet steps as the young mare jogged around me in a lazy circle. She looked comfortable, her head, which at the start she’d held unnaturally high, was beginning to drop, her jog was slowing, her eye was softening. She licked and chewed thoughtfully, then dropped her head a little further. This is what I’d been looking for. “Good girl,” I cooed. The mare sighed, her nostrils flaring slightly with a soft outward breath.
I was aware the barn owner had been standing outside the arena, watching me work with the little mare. I hoped he’d be pleased, I had gotten the mare to calm down and jog slowly after a relatively short amount of time. I knew the mare’s owner, an older gentleman, wanted a nice, gentle, quiet trail horse. I thought with more soft, low-energy handling, this mare would be just what he’d hoped for when he’d bought her.
“What are you doing?” The barn owner, Dave, interrupted my thoughts.
“I’m longeing this mare, her owner asked me to.” I’d worked for Dave for a couple months but was doing this work with the mare on my own time. My job was stall cleaning and general farm work, but I wanted to be a horse trainer. I had trained other horses, had graduated from a horse program, and shown horses for about twelve years. I picked up clients where I could, and this mare was my first potential client horse after my recent move to the area.
“That’s not the right way,” Dave scoffed as he barged into my work space. He grabbed the longe line from my hands and picked up the whip from it’s place on the ground at my feet. He then proceeded to snap the whip repeatedly, stepping aggressively toward the little mare, and chase her around the circle yelling “Trot! Trot! Trot!”
The mare’s eyes bulged from her head, the whites shown in the dim light of the indoor arena. She lifted her head high, pinched her lips shut, clamped her tail and went into a fast, choppy trot. Dave continued to yell and snap the whip. The mare went faster. She looked terrified. Her discomfort was palpable, as was the uncomfortable intensity of Dave’s energy. After a few minutes of this, Dave yanked on the line and demanded the mare stop.
“Whoa!” he yelled.
She stopped, keeping a wary eye on the man. Dave then shoved the line and whip toward me, I put up my hands defensively, then took them from him.
“See?” He said, his tone condescending. “That is how you do it, that is how you make her go. You can’t have her going like you did. She’s lazy. You have to make her behave. You must be dominant, make her move her feet.”
“Um…ok…” I whispered, looking at the horse, her eyes still wide with apprehension.
I felt like an idiot, or, more accurately, I felt I’d been treated like an idiot. Did this guy not understand the horse’s owner didn’t want the mare to be fast? I’d seen the Dave yelling at other horses, spurring them into fast work, their tails wringing, ears pinned–they looked miserable to me–and always seemed so…terrified.
Dave left the arena. I walked over to the mare, scratched her neck, and told her I was sorry. She let out a short sigh and licked her lips. I then continued as I had before, slow, quiet, and calm, trying to help the mare relax. I soon had the mare jogging quietly around me. I spoke to her softly, “easy girl, sweet girl.” It was then that I noticed Dave had returned. He was looking at me from across the arena, arms crossed over his chest.
The next day I received a call from the mare’s owner. He had heard from Dave who’d told him I didn’t know what I was doing, I didn’t have enough experience, I wasn’t tough enough, and if I kept working with his mare she would become dangerous. I felt humiliated and quit the barn job soon after.
That was twenty years ago. In the years since, I have worked in many areas of the horse industry for all types of people–some have allowed and even encouraged me to be myself–focusing on relationship and communication, trying to understand how to ask a horse for what I want in a way that is comfortable for the horse. Others have not been the type of people I felt safe being myself around. The type that seemed to believe if I wasn’t trying to dominate the horse, I wasn’t doing my job.
When I was younger, I struggled with having the confidence to forge my own path in the horse world–I knew what kind of trainer I wanted to be but I didn’t know how to market myself or how to show confidence to prospective clients. I could prove myself if I could get a hold of the horse, but struggled so much with communicating with prospective clients, that they understandably didn’t want to hear what I had to say.
Why do we hide our true self?
No one wants to be singled out. It’s scary, it’s uncomfortable, it’s vulnerable, it emotionally feels unsafe. But the truth is, even though it’s you that feels like the weird one, they are the ones with the problem. I’m not here to say people who use the old ways and methods of dominance-based training are wrong or bad or don’t love their horses, it is not for me to decide that for them, nor is it what this post is about–they are on their own path and will make change when and if they are ready.
What I am saying is that when people are presented with a way of being that is not compatible with what they are doing, they start questioning what they themselves are doing. This should be a familiar feeling for those of you who have changed their way of being with and working with horses. I would imagine that, like me, there was a point where you saw or read something new and questioned if perhaps you could do better? This openness is not something everyone possesses and it is a wonderful strength to have. The ability to look at different ideas, methods, etc. with curiosity rather than straight judgement is a valuable skill.
OK, then why do I need to find my people?
We can’t change people who don’t want to change. If they aren’t ready, you’re wasting your time. I get it, you’ve discovered something new that has changed your life. You feel good, it’s working, you want to share what you’ve learned with others. You want them to feel the joy and excitement you have found. There’s just one problem–they don’t care. Not only do they not care, but the change you are so excited about is likely making them very uncomfortable. It makes them feel like they must question what they are doing and further, they feel like you, by simply doing something different, are passing judgement on them. Again, that’s on them, you are not responsible for (nor can you control) how they feel about themselves, you, or anything else.
One more time, lets say it together! I am NOT responsible for (nor can I control) how anyone else thinks, feels, reacts, or responds to anything I say or do.
You’ve just got to keep on keepin’ on–just keep doing you.
I know. That feels weird, uncomfortable…maybe even a little terrifying. At least it did for me (and still does sometimes). We are pre-programmed to crave community and acceptance. For our cave-dwelling ancestors, being accepted and part of the group meant survival. That instinct (safety in numbers) is deeply ingrained in our DNA.
When you find your people, you find opportunity for growth. When we’re afraid, or feeling like the odd man out, we don’t stretch ourselves, we don’t open our minds, and we tend to live life from the neck up–stuck inside our heads–hung up on the “what if” rather than seeing the beauty and possibilities of growth, peace, joy, and life blooming all around us.
I know it’s hard to go against what is considered “normal.” But, what I am finding is, the more effort I put into being true to myself, AND (this is important) noticing, feeling, and carrying forward the honoring of my authentic self into all areas of my life, the happier (and I mean genuinely happy) I am. Additionally, I am in a better mental space to help my horse, to grow in my skills, and to be open to new learning and opportunities. When I weigh that out, it’s easy to see that enduring a little discomfort from the energy of people on a different path is a good trade for the benefits you receive in all areas of your life from being true to yourself.
How do I find my people?
Several years ago I asked this same question to my instructor in a human spirituality holistic health course I took as an elective in my social work master’s degree program. She paused reflectively and responded,
“I can’t answer that for you…”
Ugh. Deflated.
“What I can tell you,” she continued, “is that they are out there, and when you are ready, you will find them, and they will find you.”
Yeah…that answer wasn’t what I was looking for. What I didn’t understand then, but am beginning to understand now, is that there isn’t a simple answer–all of my people aren’t living in some commune in Ypsilanti, Michigan. There’s no map, and no set of instructions. But they are out there, sprinkled throughout the world, perhaps, just like me, wondering where their people are.
(You do you!)To find them, you must be true to your authentic self. It takes a little discomfort at first, a bit of bravery to live your truth. But when you are able to put that authentic version of yourself out into the world, you will attract like-minded people. When you encounter someone on a very different path, acknowledge that to yourself and move on. Remember, you can’t change people who don’t want to change. When (and if) they are ready, they will find you.
If you haven’t realized it yet, this lesson goes far, far beyond our work with horses. This is a life lesson. If you are not able to be true to your authentic self, and unable to find a confidant on your journey, you will struggle greatly to find true inner peace and happiness. In the working world, this looks like job burn out. In relationships, this looks like hiding parts of yourself to please others. If you are changing yourself into something uncomfortable for you, in order to “fit in” to a place, job, relationship, social group, etc. please take a step back, and ask yourself why. Are these people part of your tribe? Are they worth giving up a piece of your true self for?
So often we give this power over our expression of authentic self to strangers who don’t matter anyway. People outside the arena wondering what you’re doing with your horse, or people reading a blog post that wasn’t written for them. Other times it’s people closer to you like your riding instructor, trainer, or barn owner. Sometimes being true to yourself means moving on to people and locations more in-line with the person you wish to become–that acknowledgement could be your opportunity to move on, to grow.
Finding your tribe, and living true to your authentic self is a journey. Wherever you are on the path, you will someday look back in wonder at who you used to be and look forward with curiosity at who you will be when you fully become who God mad you to be. You got this. Keep on keepin’ on. You do you and the rest will fall into place.
As always, Peace and Love, gentle friend. Cheryl
Please like and comment below. You may also sign up to receive future posts directly in your inbox! Just enter your email in the box and hit “subscribe” (I promise not to SPAM you!). Also, stayed tuned! Cover reveal for my new book, Follow Me, Friend, coming soon!
Email Address:
Subscribe!
[image error]Pexels.com" data-medium-file="https://peacehorsejourney.files.wordp..." data-large-file="https://peacehorsejourney.files.wordp..." src="https://peacehorsejourney.files.wordp..." alt="" class="wp-image-660" srcset="https://peacehorsejourney.files.wordp... 1024w, https://peacehorsejourney.files.wordp... 150w, https://peacehorsejourney.files.wordp... 300w, https://peacehorsejourney.files.wordp... 768w, https://peacehorsejourney.files.wordp... 1880w" sizes="(max-width: 1024px) 100vw, 1024px" />Photo by Jean Alves on Pexels.com
