SERENITY

SERENITY

During the COVID lockdown I decided to start a vegetable garden in the open area near my husband, Randy’s, pole barn two miles from our home.  Randy hired a local farmer to till the yards of rich, fertile soil had hauled in. At a local auction, we found and then filled a 225-gallon water tank. We bought weed mats and plants.   Finally, we erected a 40 x 40 chain-link fence that was conveniently being discarded from property Randy’s sons recently acquired. 

One sunny late August afternoon I was happily barefooted in shorts and tank top weeding my many, many, many tomato plants (Randy talked me into buying double in case some died, so we had 30 plants!).  My dog, Kunigunda (Fluffy) was safely out of the sun, curled up in the shade under the water tank.  I was absent mindedly listening to a podcast by marketing guru and award-winning author, Seth Godin.  Seth was interviewing Chip Conely.  I was familiar with Chip’s 2010 Ted Talk, “What makes life worth living worthwhile”. 

Chip was first known for his boutique hotel chain, Joie de Vivre.  Then, in his fifties he was looking for something new, so he joined Airbnb, a start-up at the time that was being run by a leadership team of 20-somthings.  That led him to write the book, Wisdom at Work:  The Making of a Modern Elder. Today, Seth was learning about Chip’s latest endeavor, MEA, Modern Elder Academy.     

One day on a run in 2018, Chip loves to tell about his “Baja aha moment”.  He asked himself, “Why don’t we have a school to help people going through the transitions of life?”  He shared with Seth that he, and his co-founders Christine and Jeff, had just purchased Saddleback Ranch in New Mexico.  MEA Santa Fe would be dedicated to reframing aging and regenerative principles, using horses.   

I stopped my mindless weed pulling and dialed my full attention into the podcast.  Santa Fe was near my daughter, Carlye, husband Gabe, and coming soon, my first grandchild.  WoW! Was this too good to be true?  Could I REALLY be an equine-assisted learning facilitator with an internally recognized organization 45 minutes north of where my future grandchild would be living?! I reached out to my Experiential Training and Development Alliance friend and colleague, David, who lives near Santa Fe.  Through his local connections he had been in contact with Christine; she was leading the MEA Santa Fe development.  David thought she might be open to learning more about my work.  That’s all the encouragement I needed to research the crap out of everything Chip, MEA, and Christine.  I located the history of the property, Christine’s background, and reacquainting myself with all of Chip’s work.  I must have listened to Chip’s “Aha in Baha” a half a dozen times!

I emailed Christine and she told me they had an exclusive agreement with a local NM equine expert, Kelly Wendorf.  Not to be deterred from the vision I now had of being part of this amazing personal growth community, I signed up for their inaugural Santa Fe session, “Spirituality + Health in Midlife and Beyond”. 

I decided the best way to identify whether I was a right fit with MEA was to be a student first.  There was no good reason not to:  I had the resources (the course and flights would be in the several thousand dollars) and I had the freedom (Randy agreed to watch Fluff).  Best of all, the program was scheduled a month after my grandchild was expected to arrive in this world.

I signed up and committed myself to attending with a “Beginner’s Mind”.  Beginner’s mind is the Zen Buddhism practice of approaching tasks, studies, or life with an attitude of openness, and curiosity, even when one is an expert. This was a critical promise on my part, as it would instill an intentional ritual of serenity.  As a facilitator, I always have a running dialogue of judgement whenever I am participating in a facilitated event.  I recognized I was attending this workshop because I had an “agenda” of wanting to be recognized for my equine prowess.  Instead of focusing on that as a desired outcome, I decided to actively work toward simply being myself, trusting the process, allowing for spirit to guide me. 

At the opening reception, I approached Christine to introduce myself.  I reminded her that she responded to my email inquiring about equine-assisted learning.  She said she didn’t remember the exchange.  No matter, I was proud of myself for overcoming my insecurities and was glad I was confident enough to approach her. 

Day two we set our intention for the workshop.  I first pondered “being open”.  That didn’t feel quite right, so I mulled over “being present”.  Then, I thought of “notice what your notice”.  This phrase reminds me of my wise friend from Prescott College, Dr. Paul Smith.  I wrote in my journal that because that was my intention, I purposefully reflected on my reactions and judgments to the facilitation – letting go and working on noticing why I noticed what I did.  What was my story that said it “should” be done a certain way? Especially when there is no “right” or “wrong” just different.

At the reception that evening, Christine sought me out to give me a copy of Kelly’s book, Flying Lead Change.   I thanked her, then shared with her that I read that book about four years ago.  Instead of that comment opening a dialogue, she seemed offended.  She clearly hadn’t done any research about me and wasn’t curious.  I was being as authentic as I could yet struggled to make a connection with her.

After our evening campfire I returned to my cabin and removed my jewelry before going to bed.  Taking off my Centaur necklace, the brand for Paul Smith’s company, Centaur Leadership, I lightly kissed it then whispered out loud “Thank You Paul”.  The light in the bathroom flickered off and on.  Paul died approximately nine years earlier at that time of year.  His subtle presence helped ground me, keeping me attentive to the energies around me. 

Day five we travelled from the Chi Center to the new MEA campus that was still under construction.  Chip and Christine wanted our group to see what they were building, encouraging us to participate in future Santa Fe workshops.  They invited us to sit in white plastic chairs lined up in rows in an unshaded and very sunny courtyard.  One of their wranglers on the property, Linda, talked to us about the future equine learning programs they would be offering.

I shifted in my seat, wiping the sweat off my brow, wondering why Kelly, their “exclusive” provider was not here?  A better question was why were we not experiencing the horses? What the hell were we doing sitting here talking about EAL when there were equines on property.  Finally, after the thirty-minute dissertation, they invited us to visit the three horses and one donkey they had in a pasture near the courtyard.

On our way to the where the horses where grazing in a pasture, Christine turned toward the group of us and asked, “Who wore the horse socks?”  I was close enough to hear her, though I didn’t reply.  I was so angry she would ask that question; I could feel the flush of blood running through my body!  Thankfully, all my fellow compadres who heard the question, answered, “Tracy”.  Who else could it have been?  I was the ONLY person whose entire wardrobe included horse nearly every day.  I literally stopped, then took a deep breath to center and calm myself.  

When we reached the fence, I was one of the last people to join the group of thirty plus people ringed around the railing. They were all encouraging the horses to come to them, hanging over the fence, making clucking noises.  I looked directly at the horse they nick-named Fabio (because of his flowing mane), and mentally said to him, “I see you.”  He turned toward me, moved from the center of the arena, slowly walked past every other person, and straight to me. Everyone turned their head in my direction as they witnessed the invitation and Fabio’s physical response.  Magical.        

Our closing ceremony included a tribute by “A secret Compadre” which we had randomly drawn two days earlier.  The compadre and their tribute giver faced each other.  My Compadre, Michelle, wrote, “Dr. Tracy is a business guru, a horse whisperer, and leadership expert…she has a heart as big as the Atlantic & Pacific oceans combined…When I think of her a saying comes to mind – still waters run deep.  Underestimate her power & passion at your own peril, because she is a force to be reckoned with.  And her superpower?  She notices what she notices, and she has no doubt been noticing all of you.” 

Once the Compadre read their tribute, Chip

Also, at our closing ceremony Chip invited me to share my horse wisdom in the future as part of the MEA equine team.  When I got into Christine’s car to drive from our dinner at Chip’s house back to the Chi Center, she turned to me, then said, “We’ll be in touch”.       

The thing that brought me the tranquility and peace during my MEA experience, wasn’t the daily visits of serendipitous messengers or even the eventual acknowledgment by Christine, it is best captured in my final journal entry, “  As a horse person you seek validation the horse gave me yesterday by coming right toward me when I opened my heart and sent him the message, ‘I see you’.  My serenity came from both Fabio’s actions and the parallel experience of my MEA Compadres teasing me about that experience, calling me a “Horse Whisperer”.  Thank you both for seeing me!”    

P.S.  Kelly still has an exclusive with MEA, though I haven’t given up yet on being TRULY seen!

Recall a time when you were in a beginner’s mind.  Did you experience the serenity and peace of not actively working toward a specific outcome?

What were the conditions that allowed you to stay present?

Is there something you can tell you future self which will give you more serenity? 

SPIRITUALITY

SPIRITUALITY

Following a hearty and delicious breakfast of fresh fruit, including bright green and orange melon, black, red, and blue berries, homemade crusty sourdough bread with whipped butter and a spread of bacon, sausage, and scrambled eggs, the first session of the International Equine Summit began.  It was a classroom session with a “death by power-point” presentation on laminitis by a very passionate veterinarian explaining in great detail this severely painful equine disease. 

Thankfully, I was up next with a session entitled, “Head, Heart, and Harmony” where we would partner with our horse friends.  Ten women, including the owner of the Apache Springs Ranch and one of the founding mothers of equine assisted services, Barbara Rector, were in the group that decided to join me.  I was feeling confident, yet with a little trepidation, because such “royalty” had decided to participate in my session.

We trudged up a dusty hill to find three very anxious horses running around a metal pipe-fenced pasture.  Each horse bowed their bodies, heads turning to the right and left, kicking up dust, tails high in the air, snorting.  I took one look at the horses, then turned around to face the clump of my waiting participants. We all recognized it would not be safe to enter the pasture until our equine partners calmed down.  Rather than solve this challenge by myself, I humbly asked the group what they would do in this situation if they were the presenter.  By inviting them to share their ideas, I created an experience where we were equals, no longer presenter/participant.    

Each person responded, taking turns sharing their ideas about how to best support our four-legged facilitators.  One person suggested we begin by grounding ourselves.  Another chimed in that we could add deep breathing.  A third suggested that we spread out around the pen, so our energy would be dissipated, expanding the space where the horses could feel our calming invitation.     

Affirming theses were all great ideas and before we spread out, I asked Barbara to guide us through her well-known safety agreement.  She asked us to repeat after her, “I agree to take responsibility for myself today and by doing so I contribute to the safety of the group”.  In unison, a harmonious song of confident female voices proclaimed our commitment to ourselves and each other.   

Next, I invited the participants to spread out around the outside of the fence.  The eleven of us stood with our arms out, shoulder to shoulder, palms facing forward, projecting a loving energy toward the horses.  I invited the group to close their eyes, imagining they were breathing through their heart space.  The participants complied, closed their eyes, then took several deep breaths, summoning mother earth’s energy. 

As if by magic, the once spirited horses, all stopped and turned toward the half-circle of jean clad, boot wearing women.  The horses now stood calmly, nostrils slightly flaring as their heart rates slowed down back to normal.  I invited my guests to open their eyes and see what I was sure each of us sensed.  Together, we had made a deep, spiritual, connection with each other and our horse partners.  We did this through offering compassion without an work-related agenda. 

Collectively we decided to spend the last half-hour of our time together deepening our exploration of this shared experience.  People organically broke off into smaller groups, sharing ideas, while they scratched and loved on the calm and welcoming horses.    

After another delicious healthy lunch, we exited the lodge, walking out into the bright sunshine to find three calm horses lazily wandering around the open-air arena on a warm October day.   Onlookers, the other fifty participants and speakers, sat on metal bleachers, shaded from the sun by a reddish-brown faded tin roof, surrounded by Arizona desert. 

Host, Shelly Rosenberg, introduced Michelle Holling-Brooks from Unbridled Change, as our next presenter.  Michelle and I met the day prior and immediately formed a heartfelt connection.  She and I and another presenter, Willow Vetch, became somewhat of a three-some, seeking each other’s company throughout the Summit.  Michelle and Willow were (are) very spiritual and empathic, much more than me.  They both shared stories of experiencing their human lives, not as simply humans; rather they felt they were more horse than human.  They could read energy in a horse-like sense, telepathically and in pictures not words.  In their equine-assisted learning work they would then use those sensations to guide others through a path of transformation, helping clients connect to their true self—body, mind, heart, and soul.

After Shelly’s introduction, Michelle began her session by explaining that bonding, trust, respect, willingness, and focus were critical parts of horse communication.  That being able to communicate in this manner brings well-being to your soul, and to the horse’s soul, where you will discover your true nature.  In her session, she would help a volunteer connect to the very heart of the horse.  This, she explained, would assist the person in understanding how to use horses as our guides for self-realization.

 Michelle looked out into the bleachers, then invited me into the arena by “voluntelling” me to volunteer.  I felt nervous being watched by my peers and I wondered why she asked me, “Are you ready?”  As the activity unfolded, I came to appreciate the friendly nudge to be vulnerable and experience her wisdom. 

Michelle gave me a long piece of switch grass, used to extend my touch, she then instructed me to pick a horse.  I moved away from Michelle and toward the horses, that were just standing nearby expectantly waiting to see what was going to be asked of them.  I turned and faced them, selecting the mare closest to me, a draft horse cross with a flowing mane, full forelock, and thick blond tail.   I pointed my switchgrass in her direction, extending my arm its’ full length.  I squared myself, targeting my energy at this mare, willing her to acknowledge my invitation by coming toward me. My inner voice was overthinking the process, flashing ideas of “What’s the right way to do this? Am I doing it all wrong?  Oh, man, what if I screw this up in front of everybody?”. 

I tried to getting this beautiful mare to pay attention by silently directing her to turn, come toward, me or even just acknowledge my existence.  She continued to keep her head down and rather than make any suggestion she was aware of my presence, she turned toward the other two horses, a bay mustang mare and a black quarter horse gelding.   

When she rejected me, my inner dialogue shifted into high gear, warp speed, as I heard the “tape of failure” in my head.  I also heard the inner struggle, of there is no such thing as failure, only learning. What I didn’t realize at the time was that by facing her with such a bold stance, I was actually pushing her away with my energy rather than inviting her in.  I was commanding, not inviting. 

I turned toward Michelle seeking her input and advice.  She suggested that I pause. Listen. Regulate myself first. She further advised that I inviting rather than insist. She told me to find the one place where I could receive a genuine yes from the horse.  Get curious instead of judgmental.  It was as though Michelle had read my thoughts. How did you know that my self-talk had been so critical, I wondered.

On the second try, I started by grounding myself.  I took a deep breath, accepting that I could fully connect with a horse through my whole body, not just a shallow attempt of “thinking” my way into the relationship.  I slowed down the interaction, removed unnecessary pressure by turning my body slightly to the side, not aiming my pelvis directly at the horses.  I did this with the intention of allowing choice, inviting connection, meeting their energy with grounded leadership instead of force.  Instead of just picking the horse closest to me, I gently scanned the three horses, sensing who would be open to an invitation to connection.  The black gelding, ever so slightly, flicked his right ear in my direction.  He then turned toward me and SAW me.  I burst into tears, feeling a sense of pure love, acceptance, and acknowledgement through his loving gaze. 

By giving up my own personal agenda, I could clearly sense the voice of the horse.  I felt as if I had stepped into his harmonious world because I was willing to wait for him to connect with me on his terms.

I looked at Michelle and she smiled.  Then slowly nodded knowingly.  It occurred to me then that the reason she chose me, starting with the question, “Are you ready?” was because she was inviting me into the world she knew.  The invisible world of sacred connections.  Through our conversations as well as her intuition, she recognized my spirituality.  While I may not be as fully attuned as she and Willow, I am still a conduit, vibrating on a higher level.

For horses, presence is everything. They live entirely in the now. When we join them there the quality of the relationship deepens. The experience becomes fuller, richer, more peaceful because we are truly with them. It’s how horses communicate with each other. When the horse instinctively understands our intentions, responding without hesitation or confusion magic happens.

She asked me what I felt.  Through my tears I sort of choked out the words “Pure Love”.  My friend and teacher, Michelle, affirmed my feelings were real.  Really real. 

What subtle ways might I be holding myself back from being fully present with Spirit/God/Budda?

What actions can I take to enhance my spirit and spirituality?

In the future what spiritual teachers will I seek out?

ABUNDANCE

ABUNDANCE

What started as a one-horse hobby by one of Josphine Loiselle’s four daughters grew into a 40 horse, 40-acre Morgan horse training, breeding, and showing tax shelter, a nine-mile, thirteen-minute car ride from my childhood home.  The business owner, Jo, was known as “Mrs. L”, a very formidable perfectly quaffed blond-haired mother of six.  She was 7 years younger than my mom, Ada, who was in fifty-two when I started horseback lessons at the age of twelve.    

The trainer, of horses and people, was Mrs. L’s son, Pierre.  Pierre was ten years older than me, only twenty-two, when I took my first lesson. Pierre had a very deliberate way of doing things.  His tack room was perfectly ordered, with all the bridles lined up, each of the leather pieces neatly tucked into their keepers.  The throat latch looped around the back, coming together in the front to form a perfect circle.

Beyond the tack room, the barn, grounds, wash rack, and observation room were also regularly cleaned and well-organized.  The abundance of life lessons I experienced at JL’s extended beyond a strong work ethic, determination, and commitment to a shared vision; it included experiencing life and death decision-making, as well as making choices that challenged a teen-age girl’s ego and self-of-self.    

My first riding lesson horse was a gentle, mature, short, black Morgan gelding named Greg. Nailed to the white aisle cabinet next to the crossties where I groomed and tacked Greg, George hung a black block lettered on white hard plastic sign:  I am a great believer in luck, and I find the harder I work, the more I have of it. I must have read that thing 10,000 times over the five years JL’s was part of my life. 

At various times during my JL’s chapter, the people working there bonded through little sleep or downtime, high stress, and winning horses.  We also exhibited elements of a high-performance team, such as a shared language. Pierre’s nickname was George.  Mine was “Chip” because when I smiled, George said I had chipmunk cheeks.  Liz, one of my good friends, was nicknamed “Boober” for obvious reasons.  Eventually, even my mom earned a moniker, she became “Spider” because of our last name Weber. 

I learned generosity from JL’s in both small and large doses.  I loved and appreciated the toasted tomato sandwiches Mrs. “L” made in her small camper, which we hungerly gobbled up in truck stop parking lots on long trips to Ohio, Pennsylvania, and Oklahoma.  I still make these yummy snacks, preferably with garden fresh Michigan tomatoes on Spatz bread served with a generous smear of Miracle Whip on both sides. 

The grooms, including I, rode illegally in the gooseneck part of the nine-horse trailer.  We laid on top of tack, primarily blue canvas bags, tied with white cotton draw strings, holding leather bustles.  Bustles are harnesses worn by horses in their stalls to help “set” their tails, a desirable atheistic in the show ring.  It’s a testament to how tired we were that we could sleep on those lumpy, bumpy things made from hard leather with stainless steel or brass rings, snap clips, and buckles!   

If we heard any trouble in the trailer where the horses were, one of us would sneak out of the gooseneck through a small door, to climb precariously on the brown pipe dividers which separated each horse.  We had no way to notify the people driving in the trucks, as this was before cell phones and for some reason we didn’t use walkie talkies.  If there was a horse that wouldn’t stop banging or was caught up in their hay net, our options were to help the horse or wait until the truck required gas or a driver stopped to pee.  Thankfully none of us ever slipped, which could have pinned us between a horse and the divider or worse slide under a 1,200 lb. horse.

In all my time at JL’s I only had one incident that sent me to the hospital.  We were at a rather large show, the Michigan Futurity at the Detroit Fair Grounds.  The show was over, so we were packing up all our stall decorations.  Standing on a tack box, I was using a staple remover to unhook the staples from the bright blue velvet drapes surrounding the owner’s lounge.  I jumped down from the box, catching my underarm on a harness hook.  A harness is hook is chrome-plated stainless steel, four-pronged “flesh-eating monster” (not really, well, sort of) for hanging equipment or apparel. 

I screamed as it ripped through my clothes, tearing my skin.  Arria, Pierre’s sister, came running to see what was wrong.  She grabbed a dirty groom’s towel that was nearby, to apply pressure. 

“You’re going to the emergency room”, She told me calmly. 

The thing I remember most is how painful it was to have the nurse scrub the wound with iodine soap before the painkilling shots kicked in.  Thankfully, I missed the muscle, so no permanent damage.  Just two layers of stitches to hold the flesh together until it healed.     

In Pennsylvania the show ring, warm-up ring, and painted white bleachers were down a long honeysuckle lined, steep gravel road.  The barns, on the other hand, where the horses were was a football field away up that wicked hill.  I credit this bloody incline for my practice of over packing, stashing essential items in a variety of locations, and scenario planning.  I hated running up that hill if I forgot a hoof pick, a pair of chains, or some other “necessary” item that George wanted to use to “tune up” a horse prior to entering the show ring. 

My whole time at JL’s, I had two favorite horses, outside of mine.  Sennie and Icky.  Sennie was Wittmorr Sensation.  A kindhearted, beautiful gelding whom I adored.  Icky was Bonnie Lee’s Exquisite, an amazing park mare who was stunning to watch.  She seemed to love to show, exhibiting a confidence and posture that demanded attention.

We were at the Goldcup in Columbus, Ohio when Icky started showing signs of colic. The initial approach when a horse colics is to walk them, keep them moving so they cannot twist their gut.  I can not count the number of hours I walked that horse, talking to her and praying that she would be okay.  I remember the responsibility of keeping her moving, not letting her stop to nibble grass or roll, which could have meant death.  In the cool June night air, a somewhat loose cotton lead rope in my hand, we went in circles around the pasture beside the barn, behind the barn, across the gravel road, around the trailers, through a gate and back again. 

On one pass, Liz waived to me from the front of our row of stalls, which were decorated in branded blue curtains, tack trunks in between each stall door, matching directors’ chairs, surrounded by potted plastic ferns. She was signaling to me that the show vet finally arrived.  I turned to my beloved Icky, scratched her long beautiful black neck and kissed her lightly.  I whispered, “You got this girl and I’ll be right there with you”.

The show vet was able to fish the soft, lightly greased plastic hose down her nose.  She then pumped the warm water from a steel metal bucket into the hose, sending it down to her stomach, helping to move whatever blockage she had, ending her painful stomachache.  Horses can’t throw up, so when something bothers their digestive system, it has to work itself out the back of the horse.  There is nothing that makes a horse person happier than when a colicking horse finally poops. 

After the vet finished the procedure, Pierre, Liz and I took turns holding Icky, keeping her standing and upright.  Thankfully, it wasn’t long after the vet left that Icky lifted her long black tail, to send a cascade of horse manure from her butt to a mushy, watery pile on the ground.  George, Boober and I smiled, high fiving each other, breathing sighs of relief.  Our beautiful girl would live to show another day!  We were overflowing with joy and delight.

Working for JL’s was not all work; we worked hard and played hard.  One of my favorite memories is of the bleachers in Pennsylvania.  Yes, the same show that taught me to remember to plan ahead, as mentioned above. The show ring was a white boarded fence surrounded by sections where individual farm owners could reserve seats for horse owners to watch their investment in the ring.  For each area there was a sign with the name of the farm indicating this was their space, while wooden folding chairs lined up facing the arena.

Liz and I got the clever idea that we would tape over the “T” on the Thorny Hills Farm sign.  Horses fed and watered, humans also fed sitting in canvas bag chairs outside their decorated barn, we’d sneak back down the hill to the bleachers tape in hand.  We covered the “T” nightly, then excited wait to overhear people talk, trying to figure out who the pranksters were as the show days continued.  We never got caught or “busted”, a small claim to fame!

I felt, and still feel, the most alive in a field or a barn filled with horses.  There is nothing quite like the sound of several horses breathing, snorting, munching on hay or listening to their soft lips brush the feed bucket seeking that last morsel of grain.  For me it is, still, one of the most calming sounds on earth.  We’ve learned from science that a horse's heart generates a powerful electromagnetic field, roughly five times larger than a human's, extending in a 30-foot radius.  Thank you, science, for proving my feelings of contentment were more than just my imagination!

Share a time you have experienced abundance.  Abundance of what? 

Have you sought to replicate the feeling of abundance in other aspects of your life and/or work?  How?

If you could magically produce a large quantity of anything, what would it be and why?

STABILITY

STABILITY

 At twelve years old, my daughter, Carlye, and her friend, Lexi, helped Amber, Sara, and me design a weeklong horse camp in partnership with YMCA’s Camp Timbers.  LASSO was designed for 10 – 14 years old girls to explore valuable life skills through working with horses on the ground, creative expression through crafts and games, and horseback riding.  LASSO recognized the uniqueness of individuals and provided participants with opportunities to tie horse skills and life skills together.

 The majority of each day was divided between horse activities, which Sara and Amber facilitated and non-horse experiential games that I ran.  Two one and a half hour sessions the kids were integrated with other campers for typical camping experiences, such as high adventure activities including the climbing tower and the zip line, along with activities such as fishing, kayaking, and other sports. All the LASSO campers were assigned to the same lodge, so we could have a shared space. 

 Each day was themed:

 Sunday:  The Loose Noose LASSO Introductions

Monday:  Leadership:  What it is and What it is Knot

Tuesday:  Diversity:  Braiding Different Ropes Together

Wednesday:  Self-Awareness:  Life’s “Loopiness”

Thursday:  Teambuilding:  Making a Rope Bridge

Friday:  Lassoing Family and Friends

 Sara, Amber, and I were “campers” too so were required to follow all the rules that applied to anyone staying on property.  One of those rules was to pass a swim test because the camp includes Piper Lake.  To pass the test, you needed to swim breaststroke or free style from one side of the lake to the other, staying within your marked lane.    

 Amber, Sara, and I put on our suits and prepared to swim the length of the lake.  I grew up with a built-in pool in my backyard my entire life, so knew passing the swimming test was not going to be a challenge.  What I didn’t know was that I was going to embarrass myself by swimming diagonally, instead of in a straight line, nearly bumping into Sara who was in the lane next to me.  My directionally challenged paddling created a fun memory, starting out our camping experience with a solid shared experience for the three of us.  This firm foundation would be helpful in guiding each of us through a week of new challenges, learning opportunities, and memory making! 

 Camp Timbers horse staff person was Kate.  She worked with Sara and Amber helping with equipment and answering questions about the 18 different camp horses.  Sara and Amber loved the challenge of working with diverse horses; they had a ton of fun discovering the different personalities of both the horses and the kids. 

 We started out the horse part of our program by letting each participant pick which horse they wanted to partner with for the week.  A very soft-spoken and somewhat shy girl named Ellie, wandered around the pasture, moving around all the horses, trying to find the right one.  She reached the back of the paddock, picking the only horse that had an active case of strangles.  Strangles in horses is a highly contagious respiratory infection resulting in fever, thick nasal discharge, and severe swelling/abscessation of the lymph nodes in the throat. It often affects younger horses, causing difficulty swallowing or breathing (hence "strangles").

 I knew Ellie’s mom through her participation in Frankenmuth’s Multiple Sclerosis (MS) Society Walk.  She was wheelchair bound.  The fact that her mom had a debilitating disease and Ellie selected the only horse with an active disease did not seem to be a coincidence.  Amber, Sara, and I had often experienced the attraction of a person to a horse who shared something in common.  The connection could have been a previously abused horse being selected by someone who had also shared they survived an abusive relationship.  Another time the selection was a person who was a performer in some way, choosing a horse that had been a winning show horse earlier in his or her life.  These “invisible ties” are not always known, they may stay unknown, only as a felt-sense of belonging and connection.    

The activities we designed for the kids naturally invited the horses to also engage.  Camp horses are typically asked to just be “bomb proof” or safe for the rider. 

This week of LASSO camp invited the horses to come alive through new non-riding experiences.  One that they really embraced was being led through a maze of hay bales by a camper on each side with a lead rope attached, one to the right and one to left of their halter.  The girls’ goal was to work together to reach the end as quickly as possible.  The campers struggled to move the horses forward down the designated haybale lined path, as each horse bent their necks, opened their mouths, reaching out to sneak bites of hay. While the girls learned about the importance of effective communication, focusing on the goal not the distractions, and collaborating instead of competing, the horses had a little extra bounce in their step from engaging in something new, rather than simply trail riding.        

There was one young lady, Maureen, who had a know-it-all sort of personality.  Amber, Sara, I recognized this as a coping mechanism. She was a larger girl, so when it came to riding she was only able to choose from the three draft horses because of her size.  She was also the kind of kid that wasn’t willing to take direction.  Sara, Amber, and I noticed her anti-social behavior prior to any horse activities and suspected that she was going to face some real-world challenges from our equine partners. 

 Wednesday’s program was focused on self-esteem, grooming, and appearance.   The campers had now been together for four days, so we could see who sat next to who during meals and other activities. Maureen didn’t have a close buddy or best friend, she was a bit of an outsider. 

 For the horse activity that day, Maureen was on Jed, a large Belgian draft horse with a sweet personality.  He had really come alive during the week, showing more and more of himself getting playful and brighter eyed daily.  The girls had saddled up and were walking their horses inside the outdoor arena.  Sara and Amber were in the middle of the arena making sure everyone was safely moving forward.

 Then something weird happened.  They noticed that the campers/riders and their horses were all stopped around the arena. Turning, they saw Jed literally sitting on the ground with Maureen plopped on the dirt next to him.  Calmly, Amber asked Maureen what happened.  In a pouty sort of way, Maureen responded, “I don’t know how to do this.”

 Amber took a deep breath then replied, “Well, you’ve been doing it all week.  So, why don’t you just get back on Jed.” 

 Jed had stood back up, a small cloud of sand rose as he shook himself off in a sort of “reset”. Maureen looked around, realizing no one was going to come to save her, she stood up, dusted herself off and grabbed the reins that were hanging from Jed, who was standing quietly, patiently waiting.  My team and I share the belief that “When the student is ready, the teacher appears.”  Maureen did not seem open or willing to talk about what had just happened, which is why Amber did not ask any questions or do any additional probing about the experience.  What could have been a teachable moment for Maureen was not because of her unwillingness to be curious or vulnerable.          

 Because of the contagious nature of strangles, we decided that we’d have to clean everything before we got home.  Both Sara and Amber were the owners of two young horses who would be very vulnerable.  Sara, having been a medical equipment representative, confidently researched what cleaners we should use to ensure that we wouldn’t bring any disease back to the farms. 

 In order to make sure we weren’t taking anything home on our clothes, we decided to make a game of buying new clothes.  At the local Walmart, Sara, Amber, Lexi, Carlye, and I all agreed that whoever bought the ugliest clothes would win a prize.  We laughed and laughed at all the fun choices.  I ended up winning with my sponge Bob square pants bright yellow shorts and multicolored Bob Seger concert t-shirt.  The others looked almost as ridiculous in fairy princess shirts, looney toons shorts, leopard and tiger prints, and a variety of unfashionable and quite ugly choices. 

New clothing secured, we headed to the white brick outside car wash.  Thankfully, it was a warm sunny day, so we were able to use the sun as a second line of defense in killing any germs.  We set up system where the girls, Carlye and Lexi, would take things out of the truck and line them up.  Sara and Amber had the spray disinfectant, so it was their job to spray each item, making sure they got in all the crevasses and cracks.  My job was to follow after them, turning all the items over so Sara and Amber could come back to cleanse the other side once they reached the end of the line.  Saddles, bridles, props, all dried without much trouble.  The ink on all the workbooks and papers bled, creating new artistic designs.

 The steadfastness of our relationships, equine and educational knowledge, and connection were the foundations for LASSO.  Sara, Amber, Carlye, Lexi and I modeled tying life skills and horse skills together co-creating a braided, secure state of being for all involved. 

Recall a time when you were able to maintain your balance, avoiding external forces seeking to upset your equilibrium?

What were the conditions that helped you maintain your stability?

How can you replicate those lessons learned in the future situations?   

SELF-CONFIDENCE

SELF-CONFIDENCE

The Saginaw County Business and Education Partnership (SCBEP) offered a summer youth program that gave at-risk Saginaw County students a hand up in choosing a career track.  They partnered with local businesses to provide short-term summer jobs so the kids could gain valuable experience.

During the school year, junior and senior students’ sixth hour class focused on increasing academic skills with certified teachers, specialized in their accreditation, such as math. The students then stayed a seventh hour after school hours to learn employability skills and responsibility with hands-on activities for career preparation.  In the summer, because the students had already completed their skills classes, SCBEP looked for businesses to assist in job placement that would get the students ready for the workforce. The students were placed by career track and worked for six weeks, 25 hours per week, at minimum wage.

Jessica, an African American student from an inner-city school dreamed of becoming a veterinarian.  SCBEP was unable to find a veterinarian partner for her summer program, so Kathy, the Executive Director, asked me if I would be willing to allow Jessica to work at my farm for the summer.  I confidently said Yes, not realizing that I was going to learn as much from her as she would from me. 

When Jessica got dropped off at the farm her first day, I opened the door welcoming her warmly.  She shyly asked where she could put her brown bag lunch.  I pointed to the refrigerator, explaining that she could help herself to anything she found around the place.  Because we often had visitors, I always kept out a bowl of candy, pop and other beverages in the fridge, and snacks in the cabinet next to the fridge.  What was a “normal” business practice for me, surprised Jessica; not only that there were so many goodies available, she seemed blow away that she could just help herself.

After a quick barn tour, I invited her to sit in one of my high-top chairs at the custom-build kidney shaped blue countertop island.  My plan was that we would start by getting to know each other, setting some goals for the summer.  I quickly realized that she had not had a lot of life experiences.  She had never been outside the city of Saginaw.  Where she was today, a city 15 miles from her home, was the furthest she’d ever travelled.  She also shared with me that the reason she wanted to become a vet was because she wanted to be able to help all the stray cats and dogs in her neighborhood.  This career focused class just became a life-skills class, as I decided I was going to build her confidence by exposing her to as many things as possible during our time together.

This was early in Kaleidoscope’s history, so one of the projects I assigned Jessica was to paint meaningful quotes I had stenciled on walls, doors, tables, etc.  After Jessica finished painting the quote, “Too often we give our children answers to remember, rather than problems to solve, in gold paint over the windows looking into the arena, I decided to reward her by taking to lunch in town at DaVinci’s Restaurant. 

Jessica told me she had never been to a sit-down Italian restaurant, so she was pretty excited to go.  When our bill came at the end of our meal, I asked her to figure out the 20% tip.  Jessica, a high school senior, sheepishly told me she didn’t know how.  I was stunned.  In hopes that I wouldn’t embarrass her, I simply walked her through the process, asking her if she could tell me what 10% was.  She could, so I explained that 20% was that number twice.  She did the math. I left the tip. Another life lesson learned. 

Stacie’s friend, Diane, and her husband owned a robotic dairy farm.  Stacie mentioned to me that Diane was hosting a “farm day” for local 4-H groups to come out and see their mechanical milking operation, bottle feed the new calves and visit their goats and chickens.  Stacie was bringing her two new foals, Beauty and Annie, so the people could also meet them.  It was a perfect opportunity for Jessica, as she had never seen a cow up close, let alone the other farm animals. 

Jessica arrived at Diane’s farm wide-eyed and curious.  After observing others feed the calves, she confidently accepted the bottle when the girl she was watching handed it to her to take a turn.  She moved forward, putting the black rubber nipple through the wire fence, placing it in the open and eagerly expectant mouth of a black and white Holstein-Friesian calf.  The calf suckled excitedly, milk dripping down either side of its’ mouth.  After a few minutes, Jess pulled the nipple out.  She turned, showing a bright white ear-to-ear smile, then gave the plastic bottle to the little boy waiting behind her.

While I am not a regular horse-back rider, I recognized letting Jessica ride would be a unique experience, helping build her self-esteem.  I committed to periodic riding lessons on Charlie, our most reliable steed. 

We started each riding lesson with grooming.  Grooming a horse before you ride is a critical first step in the process.  It offers the rider the opportunity to make sure their horse is sound, checking for any injuries or sore spots.  Grooming also invites a physical connection through touch and exchanging energy.  It centers both the rider and the horse, especially with a seasoned veteran like our old man Chuck.  He knew that being groomed in crossties was likely going to lead to being ridden. 

Charlie’s personality was one where he enjoyed having a job.  When we would partner with him in some equine-assisted learning activities where the sequence of events didn’t follow a familiar order, he would cock his head inquisitively and look at me as if to say, “Lady, what in the world are you asking of me?”    

I began with a longe line clipped to the side of Charlie’s halter underneath his bridle.  I started Jessica’s lessons by inviting her to walk in circles.  I had her practice turns by asking her to lead Charlie around different obstacles placed throughout the arena.  Once she was confident with walking and I was comfortable she would be able to safely stop, we moved on to her trotting, still on the lead line.  Next, we sequenced to walking then trotting without the lead line.  We never graduated to a canter, as she wasn’t that confident and we basically ran out time to safely advance to the faster gait.

On Jessic’s last day, I invited her to celebrate by having her mom and sister tour the farm.  I, naturally, prepared a spread of goodies for snacks, filled a gift bag of horsey related items, and waited for them to arrive.  The allotted time came and went.  No Jessica.  I called her home.  She answered and embarrassingly explained that her mom wasn’t interested in coming.  Mom told Jessica that all she did at my place was “shovel doodie” and she had no desire to be around smelly stinky horses.  I told Jessica I was really sorry to hear that.  Then, I shared that I had a present for her and if she liked, I would bring it to her house.  She gave me the address. 

As I drove there, the houses gradually got more and more broken down.  Uncut lawns.  Boarded up windows.  Trash in the yard.  Cars up on blocks next to the driveway.  I began to wonder if going to her house, by myself, was good idea.  I chose not to turn around since I was almost there and Jessica was expecting me.  I took a deep breath, said a little prayer and confidently looked for the house number on the mailbox.  Finding it, I pulled in the driveway, grabbed my giftbag, locked my car, walked up the uneven concrete sidewalk and knocked on the weather-worn front door.  Jessica opened it.  I handed her the brightly colored horsey gift bag.  She thanked me.  Ever the hugger, I asked her if I could give her a hug.  She shrugged and said sure, somewhat surprised.  I hugged her lightly, thanked her for trusting me and wished her good luck. 

Later that week, I received a gold and pink flowered three-dimensional thank you card with the inscription, “You always do things that make someone feel very special and that is appreciated.”  She also sloppily wrote, “2: Tracy thanks for making me feel so good about horseback riding.  I really enjoyed it.  I’m looking forward to see you again.” 

I never saw Jessica again, though I learned through Kathy that she really appreciated her time at Kaleidoscope.  She had a job working at a fast-food restaurant and started classes at a local community college.  Our brief time together opened my eyes to the often-invisible barriers facing many people.  My time with Jessica reminded me of another quote painted on my arena wall, “What would you do if you could not fail”.    

Recall a time when you were completely outside your comfort zone, confidently moved into this new and uncomfortable situation.  What were the circumstances that helped support make that happen?

Have you replicated those circumstances in other situations?  What were the results and what did you learn?

Is there something in the future that you’d like to have more self-confidence?  Do you have any ideas what the next step is and how you might increase your confidence?      

CONNECTION

CONNECTION

Our third stakeholder demonstration for Detroit Horse Power (DHP) was initiated by Nicole sending out a detailed invite, bringing together seven high-powered decision-makers from the city of Detroit.  The group arrived open-minded, engaged, and willing to connect.  For example, the pre-assessment closing question, “Tell us something the other participants might not know about you”, revealed that Elana was an adoptee.  Darrin shared that he was also an adoptee, making an unknown connection between them known.  We also learned they all had strong relationships to either/and/or DHP’s mission, David, or Nicole. 

We made our introductions in our usual Kaleidoscope Learning Circle (KLC) way, inviting our guests to pick one of three open ended questions.  1) Briefly share a favorite place, explaining why.  2) If you were a song, what would it be and 3) If you were/are a superhero what is your superpower?

Danny, credit union CEO, kicked things off explaining he couldn’t pick just one song.  He’d be a playlist with a variety of songs, based on his mood that for that day.  He then started to answer the other two questions, when the entire group interrupted him.  Somewhat embarrassed, he apologized, telling us he didn’t see the “Pick One” instruction.  Everyone else took their turn, including our DHP hosts, David and Nicole.  Their involvement cemented their role for the day, that they could be both hosts and participants.

It was a beautiful September day, bright blue sky, puffy white clouds, with a soft warm breeze.  Stacie and I decided to try something she’d found very successful, yet we’d never done before.  We invited our group to a grounding activity.  We all stood out in the pasture, as eight horses and a cow (yes, a cow) wandered around us. We were guided by Stacie’s soothing voice to notice our bodies.  Notice our breath.  Listen.  What sounds did we hear? She suggested we notice the thoughts coming into our minds, then let them move on, clearing our busy brains to fully experience the space we were in now. 

Now fully present and mindful we invited the participants to meet and greet the horses.  After giving them plenty of time to mosey around the pasture, we circled them back up; then asked them what struck them about the experience.  Danny again showed his willingness to be vulnerable.  He shared that he was more afraid than he expected.  As a leader, he didn’t anticipate that he would be intimidated by these animals.  His comments were a perfect segway for us to ask about times when we were with people and we felt anxious.  Everyone made the connection from horse experience to human experience, agreeing that we might be fearful with strangers or being in a strange place.

The next activity was thumb wrestling.  Thumb wrestling exposes and explores our implicit assumptions about competition and collaboration.  It invites discussion about how our mental models can create unintended consequences, if we are not fully present.  After pairing people up, the instructions are to get as many pins as possible.  After a minute, I called the activity, asking everyone how many pins they earned.  Danny and Rebecca 76.  Darrin and Chris, one each.  Tarsha and Elana, five and seven.  Adam and David, two and three.

I asked Danny how they got so many?  He shared that he had participated in a similar activity with arm wrestling pins, so he knew that if you worked collaboratively instead of competitively you would earn more pins.  He convinced Rebecca that they had to take turns pinning, to reach the stated goal. 

The last activity, Billiards, would take place in the arena, a smaller, better-sized place than the pasture.  We selected three horses to partner with, deciding to work with ones the group was already familiar.  Lacey is a big beautiful draft, which Nicole brought into the arena.  We tied her to the loop on the wall, knowing she would stand quietly until the other two horses were brought in.  Noticing that she was standing on three legs, not putting pressure on her rear left leg, I asked David to go over and check it.  He didn’t feel any heat or see a cut, so we concluded her problem was likely an abscess.    

Because billiards required moving the horses into pre-established “pockets” of two pvc pipes, we decided to partner with another horse instead of three-legged Lacey.  Stacie brought in Shocky, holding her while David and Nicole brought in the last two, Stormy and Lexi. 

Once we put up the pvc pole barrier, we let the horses loose.  Shocky pinned her ears, pushing Stormy and Lexi away from the people.  We waited a bit for them to sort themselves.  They settled down when Stormy and Lexi noticed the round bales of hay being stored in the back of the arena.  Hay being much more interesting than people, they both headed towards the grub. 

Shocky, on the other hand, seemed pleased to have the people all to herself.  We learned later from Charlotte, Starz Equestrian Center owner, that Shocky is normally the last one caught because she is the lowest of the herd hierarchy.  The unusual set of conditions, her being alone with the people, gave her a confidence she did not normally display.  Charlotte was quite surprised to hear that Shocky had connected so strongly to the people, willing to “claim” them, by pushing the other horses away. 

We lined the people up, asking them to sort by eye color.  Darrin shared that he was color blind, so would need some help.  Discovering someone’s inability to see different colors never occurred to me.  His vulnerability to share led to Elana acknowledging that her husband was also color blind.  Once they decided on the line up, we invited them to stand between two buckets filled with water.  The consequence they chose if anyone talked when it wasn’t their turn was to bark like a seal three times while clapping their hands. 

Elana took off, wrapped her arm around Shocky’s neck moving her in to the “pocket” space of two pvc pipes angled fairly close together.  Her three minutes up, I shouted, “time”.  Next up was Darrin.  He pretty much followed Elana’s lead, getting the mare nearly inside the pvc pipe pocket.  Tarsha was next.  She was not as confident about being around horses, so pretty much just walked along side Shocky, not moving her into the pocket.  Adam took his turn, again moving Shocky into a pocket, this time the one on the other side of the arena which I purposefully spread really far apart.  Intermittently, I’d remind those on the sidelines to “stay between the buckets.”   

During her turn, Rebecca asked if as the leader she could talk.  Up to this point, no one had taken advantage of their ability to talk when it was their turn.  Classically, focusing on what they couldn’t do, rather than what they could.  I confirmed that she could talk without a consequence.  She turned to the whole group, standing between the buckets, suggesting that they work together by picking up the buckets and making one long line. The group snaked towards the horses, when I shouted “time”.  Danny followed her lead and they all moved as one.  Lastly, Chris asked if they could move the pvc pipes.  I asked him if I said they couldn’t?  He responded, “No” so they picked up the pipes and made them as large as the arena as time ran out.   

Because we were ahead of schedule, Stacie, Nicole, and I debated as to whether we should do another activity.  Nicole suggested a leading activity, since we hadn’t done that yet.  Stacie, started spit balling some ways we could make it work.  I felt like throwing the activity in just because we had extra time was the wrong answer.  After mulling it over, I suggested we invite them all to journal the day.  Creating the space for them to make their own personal connections to the work, each other, and themselves.  David agreed, and later admitted he was afraid they would all just get on their phones after writing a few sentences.  Instead, he witnessed some deep and thoughtful journalling.   

We all moved into the conference room for lunch.  Darrin, a university professor studying entrepreneurship, asked Stacie and I our origin stories.  We gladly shared our humble beginnings.  He mused that wasn’t incredible to realize that if my 1998 Master’s degree at Rochester Institute of Technology had not included the experiential “red barn” experience and the facilitator hadn’t told me about the Association of Experiential Education that none of us would be connected here.

After rich discussion about equine-assisted learning and DHP’s future programming, we closed the day with my Kaleidoscopian Processing cards.  Going around the room, it was Darrin’s turn.  He started to well up, getting tears in his eyes.  Unable to speak, he asked to pass and come back to him.  Tarsha went next, then Rebecca.  Now it was Danny’s turn.  He too, became emotional when he shared the card he picked and its’ profound impact. 

The connections made that day were magical.  In reflecting on what was the “secret sauce” that made this possible, David, Nicole, Stacie, and I all agreed that there were several factors that contributed to such a heartfelt experience for seven strangers in four hours.  A reminder that sometimes, being in a space with others who are willing to be authentic and vulnerable can lead to seeing others and being seen.  

Recall a time when all the conditions aligned and you lived through a magical experience?

Have you replicated, or tried to replicate, those conditions in future settings?  How did that work or not work out?

What lessons have you learned that you can take into future adventures?