Some Thoughts about Friendship

Before I go on to the second in the series of posts called “One thing leads to another ..” -- a series that describes my own journey from horse-less big city dweller to exurb horse farm proprietor and caregiver to three horses -- I’d like to write about something else. And, since there's no one to stop me, that’s exactly what I’m going to do.

In my youth (too many decades ago) we had an expression - a “push button horse.” This referred to a horse that anyone, even the rankest beginner, could ride. No matter the lack of skill or experience of the person on his back, the horse would perform as desired with machine-like precision. This reliable, robot-like performance was a highly prized quality, particularly in "school horses." (The more egotistical riders among us --with deep shame I confess that I was one-- preferred to avoid these “easy” mounts in favor of the “problem” horses -- the ones prone to buck or bolt, or both, or to ditch an inattentive rider by cleverly and suddenly dropping shoulder while coming around a corner. These “difficult” horses gave us a chance to show off our riding “skills” -- which more than likely consisted of rough, harsh use of bit, whip, and spur ... but all this is subject matter for another entry.)

Back to the idea of a push button horse. Deep down, how many of us want this kind machine-like performance from our horses? How many of us want to ride a living robot? Don't predictability and reliability make us feel safe? Be honest, now.

Oh, you don’t like the terms “robot” and “machine-like”?

What if I take out “machine-like” and substitute “reliable” and “consistent”? How may of us want reliable, consistent performance from our horses? What about obedience? Don't we expect that as a matter of course?

And two more questions, how many of us dream of being friends with our horses? How many of us want our horses to like us?

I cannot speak with certainty for anyone else, but I suspect that many of us (whether consciously or unconsciously) harbor a desire for both a horse who “happily” does anything and everything we want him to do, who is totally reliable, compliant, and obedient AND one who is also our friend, who likes us, wants to be with us.

We go to great lengths to fulfill those two desires. Every year hundreds of millions of dollars are spent by horse owners chasing a dream of “harmony” and “unity” with their horses.

In every forum, at every clinic, in every “Ask the Experts” magazine advice column, you’ll find some variation of questions like: “How can I get my horse to....?” “What do I do if my horse.... ?”, as though this living, feeling being were an appliance whose trouble-free operation would be guaranteed if only we could get the proper instructions to follow, if only we knew the proper buttons to push, the right switches to flick.

We spend a lot of time, money, and energy hunting down the method, the set of instructions, the recipe that we hope will give us what we want. And there are numerous experts who promise that their method will give us that. But, I think that until we are clear about what we *really* want, until we find clarity and order our priorities, we are doomed to remain forever unsatisfied, unfulfilled, vaguely (or quite definitely) disappointed, even unhappy, in our interactions with our horses. As I see it, those two desires so many of us have are in direct conflict with one another. The perfect servant (or slave) -- or robot -- can never, really, be our loving friend.

So, the first thing we need to do is decide what it is we want in a relationship with a horse.

If, after carefully considering the matter, we decide that what we want is a reliable riding machine, there are numerous systems and methods out there that will more often than not get us that. Of course, this almost always comes at the expense of the horse’s soul. And they often cost him his health and soundness. These methods -- even the ones claiming to be “natural” and appearing “non-violent” -- usually break a horse physically and/or spiritually. If that doesn’t matter to us, then we can stop reading now and resume the search for the method that suits.

If, after carefully considering the matter, we realize that what we want more than anything else is a loving relationship -- a friendship -- with a horse; if his happiness and well-being are nearly as important to us as our own, then the next thing we need to do is: Stop looking for love in all the wrong places. And in all the wrong ways.

We need to forget experts and their methods. We need to go right to the source and spend our time and energy getting to know the one we wish to befriend.

Consider a great love affair in your life, or an enduring friendship. Did that relationship come to be because you dutifully followed certain steps mandated by some expert somewhere? Was that transforming relationship really no more than a perfect soufflé, achieved by faithful adherence to the perfect recipe? Of course not!

We all know, with that deep inner knowing, that no outside authority can tell us how to be in love or friendship with another. And yet, when it comes to horses, we human beings are constantly on the lookout for the guru (complete with books, videos and all sorts of special equipment) who will tell us (finally!) how to have a “good relationship” with our horse.

Is that because we believe that building a relationship with a horse is fundamentally different than building a friendship with another human being? Do we think it is more like “building” that perfect soufflé?

Certainly, there are many ways in which horses and humans are different from one another. We “speak” a different language, our cultures are very different. Does that mean we cannot be friends?

Let’s consider what we mean by friendship. At the very least, friends basically like each other... and that liking can, with time, evolve into deep love for one another. Friends have a desire to know each other better -- they spend time together sharing not only activities, but thoughts, opinions, feelings. They trust one another. Everything that friends share is freely given. Affection, trust, effort, respect, time together -- none of these are demanded or commandeered from one another; they are freely offered in the spirit of friendship.

And here we are at one essential difference between a friendship involving two human beings and one between human and horse. The horse is our captive. He is not free to choose where he lives or with whom he associates. So, if we seek to become friends with our horse, it is up to us as the captors (and as the ones seeking the friendship) to go the extra mile NOT to exercise our great power over the horse. We must be extra polite, giving this being we want to befriend as much space, respect, and autonomy as possible. We must go out of our way to solicit his opinion, to let him have his say, to learn to understand his language, to listen to him, to accept his “no”, to give his preferences and feelings precedence.

Some might say there are a number of factors that conspire to make all this much more difficult to do with a horse than with another human being. They point out (again) that horses have a very different language and a very different culture from ours. That is true, of course, but it is also true that among human beings there are great differences in language and culture. Consider modern Europeans and Amazonian tribes, for example. How much language and culture do those two groups have in common?

My dear friend Cloé has referred to her beloved horse, Thunder, as “my Chinese friend.” The language, customs, and proper etiquette are quite different in China than in Quebec, but who among us would argue that a friendship between a Chinese person and a French Canadian is impossible? It is similar between human and horse. But, because a human being -- simply by virtue of being human -- holds so much of the power in the relationship, and because he is the one seeking the friendship to begin with, he is the one who must assume responsibility for making the relationship work. He is the one who must make the extra effort to accommodate himself to the culture of the horse. The human must learn the horse’s language and the rules of polite behavior as the horses see it.

In short, we human beings must learn to behave like a friend to the horses in our lives -- whatever that involves. This will vary according to individual circumstances and even from day to day. Despite all that there is for human beings to study and learn about the horse, we must remember that there is no “recipe” for moment to moment interaction. We are building a relationship, not a soufflé.

Imke Spilker has said that a dialog with a horse cannot be rehearsed in advance. That about sums it up. No one can tell you ahead of time what to "say" to your horse, or presume to know if or how he will respond. Go to horses as you would go to someone you love: be fully present with an open heart, pay attention, and give your best. See what happens.

One Thing Leads to Another: Pt. 1 - Taking the (First) Leap

Horses have been my main interest, my passion -- some would say my obsession -- from the time I was a young girl. From the time I was 7 (when I started riding lessons) until I was 17 years old (and left Chicago to attend college in New York) they were also a huge part of my life. Though I did not have a horse of my own, I spent every spare minute at the livery-cum-boarding stable where my riding instructor taught. I mucked stalls, groomed horses, cleaned tack, exercised absentee boarders' horses, took groups out on trail rides -- whatever it took to get some extra riding time, some extra time with the horses.

That ended when I went away to school. Except for the occasional birthday treat of an hour-long trail ride in Central Park, my life was horse-less for about 20 years. In those years I finished college, built a career, married, divorced, married again, bought and renovated a small old row house in Brooklyn.... and spiraled ever deeper into despair. My life, full as it may have seemed from the outside, felt hollow at the core.

It took me a long time to realize the reason for the great emptiness I felt, but once I did, my husband and I sold the the city house and moved to a “horse-y” part of New Jersey that was still in commuting distance of our jobs in the city. The idea was that I would “get back into horses.”

Three years passed after our move to New Jersey and I still was not back into horses. My job was demanding, requiring a lot of travel and client meetings -- all very time consuming. But the bigger, albeit unconscious, reason for my inaction was that I “knew” at some level that having horses in my life again was going to be a Major Change. Many things would be different, including how I spent my spare time, the people who would be in life...

Part of me was unconsciously resisting this change. I had not made much of an effort to find a way to ride regularly. My biggest step in the direction of “getting horses in my life again” was to occasionally read the “horses for sale” ads in our local paper, though I wasn’t even thinking about getting a horse of my own. It was my husband (known as Nippy to his friends) who gave me a metaphorical nudge as I was standing at the edge of this emotional precipice, and urged me to “jump.” He did this by announcing out of the blue one day that he was going to buy me a horse for my birthday.... but that I would have to pick him out myself because he (Nippy) didn’t know anything about horses.

!!!!!

A horse of my own....

Wow...

That was a childhood dream of mine -- a dream I had not forgotten, but had given up on as “impossible.” Yet here it was, apparently about to come true.

The horse of my childhood dreams was an Arabian.

There were no bridles or saddles in my dreams, no ropes, or spurs... The Dreamhorse was with me because he wanted to be.

He and I wandered the countryside together. Sometimes he carried me on his back ... mostly we walked and ran together, each carrying ourselves, enjoying each other’s company, exploring our world.

As I set out to find my birthday present from my husband, it came to me with great clarity that I was looking for an Arabian gelding between 5 and 7 years old. I called the local Arabian Horse Association and worked my way down the long list of breeders they recommended. Oddly, no one had a gelding for sale. Then, one Sunday, I picked up our local paper (the Asbury Park Press) again and turned to the classifieds. There, under “Horses for Sale” was an ad for a 7-year old Arabian gelding (bay). I *knew* this was my horse.

Within a matter of days I had met Khemo (I knew who he was before we were introduced. I picked him out as we were coming up the driveway of the barn where he lived -- there were several bay horses in the paddocks-- and I said to Nippy “I hope that’s him”), had a vet check done (everyone said I should), paid the purchase price, found a wonderful boarding farm just 5 minutes drive from our house, and made arrangements to have him trailered there. On Labor Day week-end, 1991, Khemo arrived at Whipporwill Valley Farm, the place that would be his home for the next ten years. Both our lives were about to be radically transformed.

The moral of this part of my story: Remember your childhood dreams in the most vivid detail you can manage; don’t give up on them. They’re important. Oh, and be sure to tell them to at least one person who loves you....

To begin ...

...I suppose introductions are in order. Meet my Master Teachers...

This is Khemo.

He died in May of 2008 of an inoperable tumor in his gut. He was 24 years old. We had spent almost 17 of those 24 years together. It was not nearly long enough, but I am deeply grateful for the time we did have. I would say that Khemo was my dream horse, except ... he so resoundingly surpassed even my best dreams that calling him that would diminish him. I didn’t dream big enough to envision Khemo; when he came into my life I was blessed with way more than I had asked for.

Khemo taught by example and direct transmission. From him I learned about patience and perseverance. Forgiveness. He taught me to find humor even in serious situations. Nothing and no one has ever brought me so much pure, unadulterated Joy. My love for Khemo is what (still) inspires me to do whatever I can do for horses. Passing on what I've learned from him, translating books that might spark a step forward in the horse-human relationship, helping to get good work more widely known -- these, among other things, are my ways to honor his nobility and generosity of spirit.

And here is Kochet.
In his 16 years with me Kochet has taught me (among other things) about the depths of the fear and anger I carried around with me. He taught me about the damage that selfish expectations can do to a relationship. He teaches me continually about courage -- how it is not the absence of fear but the act of feeling the fear, confronting it, and moving through it. In being with Kochet I have learned what it means to be aware, to be fully present with a horse, and what powerful connection and communication occurs then. And I have learned how easily that connection can be broken by a stray thought or an unconscious feeling.

And this is Desna...

Desna, too, has taught me much about courage. And change. She has also given -- and continues to give -- me lesson after lesson in communication... the first one came before we ever met. Her ability to get along with others is inspirational. Some might say she is low horse in the pecking order, a submissive type... but that would not be wholly accurate. She leads her little herd when necessary and has very strong opinions on things.

And, here is the newest member of our family, Khe-Ra.

Even though Khe-Ra is four months away from her fourth birthday and she been with us only 11 months, she has already begun teaching some unexpected lessons. More about that soon. You would not recognize her from these photographs. That's because who she really is, is still a mystery.... to her and to me.