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Clinic Report

(posted with kind permission of author)

By Gretchen Gogesch

Finding the Path

“True Horsemanship Through Feel”, by Bill Dorrance and Leslie Desmond, was a book recommended to me at a horsemanship clinic several years ago. Reading it has been a process of trial-and-error, and re-reading, and re-trying. It’s all good.

But reading the book is one thing. Experiencing “feel and release” is quite another. Could the “aha’s” be any bigger than on the page? Absolutely.

I found Karen Musson via Leslie Desmond’s website, in a desperate search for help with my mares. I had hit a wall and knew I needed guidance. We set the date. Two weeks of solid rain. Then two piercingly blue, blue-sky, sunny days.

It’s exactly what being stuck, unlearning, and re-learning felt like. Thick clouds that suddenly cleared into bright wide open space. The open mind and open heart of learning.

Seeing With New Eyes

We started the journey of understanding Feel by simply looking at how one of my mares, Airielle, stood in the arena in front of us. Karen pointed out things I thought were par for the course for every horse; at least, it’s what I saw around me every day. Just standing, Airie’s feet were sort of randomly placed, with the back left leg dropped back behind her. Her shoulders slumped. Her head drooped. Her neck was braced. Moving, she didn’t pick up her feet to walk so much as just shuffle them to get by.

Karen began waking up Airie’s awareness of her shoulders and her hindquarters and asked her to release the root of her neck. Amazing transformation across Airie’s entire body – the brace disappeared, and “life” came back. Next, she showed me how realigning the feet in their naturally balanced position would reconnect Airie with actually being able to really move versus shuffle along. This was done working with diagonals through Feel.

Releasing into a New World

No pressure was used at any point. Just release. This is a very simple but profound shift from the pressure+ release approach I had learned; release is about encouraging and then using the natural lightness every horse is born with. Looking back, I now see that pressure caused my horses to shut down, become cautious and maybe even a little distrustful. They were dull, and did not give their all. Release asks for, and rewards, the life within them.

At the same time her body was coming to life, Airie’s mind was doing the same. That disengaged, faraway look was replaced with a razor-sharpness and curiosity. She wanted to see what was next!

The next step was asking Airie to move out in a circle in a way that lifted her shoulders, freed up her feet, kept the root of the neck “alive”, and very importantly, kept a float in the rope. This is where I began to see all the particles of Feel coming together. Doing it for the first time felt like directing traffic at a London intersection. Lots of moving parts on her, lots to make sure doesn’t get taken away from her, i.e., the permission to move and the freedom to do so in a way that uses every muscle made for what she was designed to do: move without micromanagement. It was amazing to see her move out with lightness!

I thought it was remarkable that all we were doing was simply working together with Feel. There were no flags, or sticks and poppers to drive Airie, no system that yields a “compliant” horse that goes through the motions, no sales pitches, no crops, no lunge whips, no spurs, no twisted bits, no side reins, no making sure Airie “didn’t get away with” anything. I had already been down that path and saw the results: brace-iness, resistance in mind and body, and no real partnership compared to how Feel brought Airie to life. Just me, Airie, and Karen working with Feel. It’s not for the faint of heart. I began to see that maybe this work is the most deeply authentic form of communication us humans might ever experience. It demands honesty – to self and horse – and the guts to change…you, not the horse.

It was even more amazing to ride Airie. After the groundwork we saddled up and I got to experience the connectedness that Feel makes possible from the saddle. “This is not the same horse!” I called out. There was a spring to Airie’s every step that I had never experienced since rescuing her three years ago. This was a 14-year old Hanoverian whose professional “trainer” had viciously beaten her with a shovel and broken her sinus cavity at age two, and also injured her in a way that caused chronic damage to her left shoulder. While Airie could go through the motions of what you were asking, she was never with you, and never giving her all. To this point I didn’t know if she could ever come back. I had my answer.

I had lots of work to do to change my seat, and Karen was terrific at re-engineering my posture. I was sitting the horse like I would a chair, so I was riding Airie too far back and my legs were not hanging naturally below me. My position was compromising her movement and balance. Another self-aha.

The groundwork carried through to the mounted work: keeping the float in the reins, working through release, feeling for and of each other. I had to learn new ways of communicating – no more kick, squeeze and nudge with the legs and feet. Only release; it demands excellent balance and sharp awareness at every moment. This was profoundly different from anything I had learned, but it made a huge difference from the start. Right away, Airie seemed to appreciate not having her ribs poked and her every move micromanaged.

At the close of the day, we took Airie back to the field and released her for an evening of rest and relaxation with pasture pals. She strode away light and proud, her body relaxed. Airie was awake and alive inside her body after 12 years of being shut down. Karen and I watched her stride elegantly over the ridge, in silence. It was moving to see this creature who had endured a horrific indignity at such a young age, become whole again. This is the power of Feel.

Seeing What’s Inside of Me

The next day we worked with Gretel, a 16-hand Belgian/Thoroughbred cross. Another rescue of sorts, Gretel had been started with conventional, rough methods and had earned the reputation of being “dangerous” and “difficult.” At 9, she was very strong-willed and an unpredictable ride, at times a high drama queen. Karen sussed her as a herd leader and pointed out that, in the absence of leadership and confidence, she’d opt for what she thought was the better idea: her way.

We ran through the same process with Gretel, groundwork and mounted work. And this is where the biggest self-aha’s presented themselves. I learned that my mind was my worst enemy in working with Gretel; I thought, and therefore she was – difficult, dramatic, unwilling, a drama queen. I saw that I also lacked confidence in my riding skills. Why should Gretel have confidence in me when I couldn’t offer myself the same? It was a tough pill to swallow, but I got it. My mental meltdowns were causing her mental meltdowns.

So, full of the “What”, i.e., what’s really going on, I now had to deal with the “How,” i.e., how to change my mental patterns and behavior with Gretel. I was overwhelmed as Karen lunged me in the saddle. The butterflies in my head fluttering “what if she takes off?”, “what if I fall off?” made my pulse race. No surprise, Gretel bolted. My deep fears associated with this horse and past visits to the ER immediately kicked in. Karen did a masterful job of talking me off the ledge, and I opted to take Gretel on a simple walk around the arena to close our session with a small success. It worked. As I dismounted I was swimming in the How….How am I EVER going to work this out with Gretel? Am I even capable of doing this?

As Karen left the arena she made a very important comment, “Did you see that you never lost your seat – you were solid – when Gretel took off? You never lost your balance.” It never occurred to me. I was too busy being scared and passing judgment on Gretel. Yet another huge self aha.

It’s so easy to put all the blame, all the lame excuses, on the horse – she’s green, she’s difficult, she’s mean, she’s willful, blah, blah, blah. And I now see with the crystal clarity of the blue-sky day that it always comes down to me. It is always about my frame of mind, how I hold the horse in my thoughts, how I communicate those thoughts to the horse via my body and mind. How I Feel with her, and for her. Given the chance and a clear set of “asks” with Feel, the horse will give its heart in trying to do what you ask it to do. I was looking for easy answers on how to “fix” Gretel when all I really had to do was look in the mirror. Profound learning. A humbling chance to grow as a rider and a person. All, from a horse.

Gretel opened a path for learning, and I followed it. I transcended my fears and chose to ride Gretel the day after Karen left. I have developed a new awareness about my fears and have reached a place where I can manage them in the moment and offer something positive to my horse, by finding the sureness to blend with her when those fears come up. When she offers to move, I do not shut her down but blend with her and go. To my surprise, she rewards me by swiftly Feeling back to me. Once afraid to ride in the arena, we have now taken our partnership to the trail. She is an amazing teacher.

The Gift of Feel

The two-day intensive is over, but the work and the spirit of the work live on inside of me, and my “girls”. Airie can now canter on a loose rein and loves blazing across open fields together, which was once impossible. My big “crazy” Gretel comes running and bellowing (she’s very big in persona, too J) when she catches sight of me and pushes her way to the fence to be the first to work. My adorable Paint moves out like the wind on trails with joy and lightness.

I am transformed as well. One of the biggest aha’s! was shining a light inside my own head to see the thoughts that limited what was possible. Crazy big mare? Lazy Paint? Unwilling Hanoverian? Not at all. All proud and athletic partners eager to work with someone willing to put aside assumptions, ego, frustrations, and more, in order to Feel what was real inside of them.

I learned a new way of respect that, I believe, works hand-in-glove with love and compassion. For horse. For self.
I learned to suspend judgment in order to stay awake and alert in the moment.
I learned that maybe NOT having The Answer as to why a horse did what it did was nowhere near as valuable as staying with the question of “what’s real here? What is the horse reacting to/where are they coming from?” in order to co-create a solution with my horse.
I learned that devices and gimmicks are devices and gimmicks. For humans. Not the horse.
I re-learned that patience is gold.
I learned that if you put yourself in that blue-sky space of “What’s Possible?” amazing things will happen, and there is likely no turning back once you’re on the path of Feel.
I learned to ride with my whole self, through Feel.

I am grateful to Bill and Leslie for discovering and crafting this work, and sharing it with us all. I am deeply grateful to Karen for her endless energy, great listening skills, even greater observation skills, love of horses, terrific riding skills, sense of humor, and ability to sit through my meltdowns with a smile and encouragement.

Here’s to blue skies and happy trails.

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