That Beating Heart

Horseman Mark Rashid writes:
...it is the horse that allows us the opportunity to listen to that beating heart, to feel the ebb and flow, and ultimately, to get back in touch with the spirit that is harmony...
(Nature in Horsemanship, Skyhorse Publishing, pg. 205-06). 

March was a crazy month for me, mainly because the hard drive on my laptop crashed. This led to several weeks of drawn out repairs (ordering a system restore disk, waiting for technicians to fix it, finding out my hard drive was so far gone that all data was lost, re-downloading all my programs/ data onto new hard drive). Then, all this downloading led to exceeding our data limit (bill to come...), so I have been trying to minimize on-line time. I'm still not really caught up from this month of technical difficulties. In short, I've realized how extremely dependent I have become on my laptop: like many, my professional and social life rely on Internet connection and, as a writer, my laptop is also essential to my daily writing/ editing/ brainstorming/ researching routine.

I found it disorienting to not have this connection/ access. I was less productive, grouchy and restless. I also started to make other absent-minded mistakes (lost my keys for two days). 

I have never really consider myself a "tech-dependent" person, but I certainly am! I've realized I am now totally dependent on my computer for what I consider "normal" daily life. I would now rate my laptop as more essential than a working oven (lived without one for the past six months), a television (gone without for years at a time), and probably even items of personal hygiene like a toothbrush (you can always improvise). 

As of today, I think I am totally reconnected: functional computer, Office 2013 installed, and the first day of a new month of our nearly unlimited data plan (which we've never even come close to exceeding in the past). This feels so good! Writing life begin again!

So - is this a long, drawn out explanation for why I have not been blogging? YES! It is also, though, a personal confession of how much technology now influences my thinking, communicating and ability to function. I just hadn't realized!

If there is a connection to horses in all this (and for me there almost always is!), it has to do with the fact that they (thankfully!) can't log in. Facebook will never be an option for communicating with horses (OK, never say never, but highly unlikely). Social media is wonderful and plays a big role in my life now, but I am ever-grateful for the more intuitive, personal, nonverbal, non-image-based communication skills that I practice with horses and try to instill in my riding students on a daily basis.

I can no longer deny my dependence on (and affection for) on-line communications, but I don't want all the communicating in my life to be based on clicking a link or typing a short, quip-y comment. I want to understand and practice a level of communication that involves listening from my heart, processing in my gut and relaying my intentions with empathy, presence and clear signals. Working with horses is the perfect opportunity for practicing nuanced communication skills. 

(I can now report with certainty that the Technical Services Staff at our local Staples would benefit from practicing some of these deeper interpersonal/ communication skills, which interacting with hard drives and system restore disks apparently does not foster...)

It's a grounding and authentic experience to communicate with horses, whether on the ground or in the saddle. As my own life becomes more and more technology-dependant, I am thankful that keeping horses in my life requires me to practice deeper level communication skills. I echo Mark Rashid's perfectly chosen words: the horse "allows us the opportunity to listen to that beating heart."

Because my laptop may have a lot to offer, but it does not have that!

Barn Work

Though I work with horses at least five days a week, it's not so often that I actually do "barn work" - cleaning stalls, sweeping aisles, dropping grain and refilling water buckets. For the past several years, I've been fortunate to teach at EAAT facilities where this work is done by paid barn staff, who are assisted by wonderful volunteers. Most of the time, I show up as this work is being finished, and teach.

However, this weekend, a friend is out of town and asked if I'd feed her horses and tend her barn. Horse care is hard work (I don't want to downplay that!) and doing it well requires knowledge, training and skill. Caring for my friend's horses this weekend, I have been reminded there are also many pleasures of barn work.

There is something rewarding about being the first person in the barn in the morning, the horses waking up to your footfalls, beginning to nicker or paw for their feed. There is something rhythmic about scooping and dropping grain, then going about the tasks of removing blankets, dressing turn out boots, fly-spraying. There is the slight adrenaline rush of turning out very large and energetic animals who are especially eager to greet a still-damp pasture on a quiet, sunny morning.

Finally, there is definitely something meditative about cleaning stalls - the slow and careful act of removing piles and pieces of manure, sweeping up the pee spot, spreading the bedding. It is a great time for thinking: just enough physicality to distract you from your problems, not so physically difficult as to be unpleasant. There is the wonderful smell of barn dust, settling over your hair and clothing.

Of course, I recognize that this is the glorified version of morning barn work. I don't do it often, so it feels special and fun. But I was grateful to be reminded of the pleasures of being in a barn and not asking the horses to work. Just taking care of them, appreciating and hopefully meeting their needs. I've missed that! 

A Look Back...

In Quiet: The Power of the Introvert in a World that Can't Stop Talking, author Susan Cain claims that to discover your larger purpose in life, you should "...think back to what you loved to do when you were a child."  About five years ago, I went through significant career change, and my therapist also asked: "What did you love best when you were a child or adolescent?"  My answer: horses, horses, horses! 

I recently went through some old pictures, and realized I was destined from a very young age to become a horseback riding instructor.  Here they are!

(1) That's me leading (age 13), Kris riding.  I like how Kris is smiling at the camera, but I am completely focused on Sudora (our first horse).  I also like my jeans (where did those come from???) and the fact I'm wearing my helmet - ready to hop on at any moment if needed!   

 

(2) One year later! Sudora and I are at the Southern Rhode Island 4-H Horse Show.  You can see how unlike in the first picture, where I am racing to keep up with Sudora, here she is focused on me and walking in step with me. This concept - keeping a horse attuned through the use of intention, specific body language and personal energy- is the essential skill that we train Volunteer Horse Handlers in therapeutic riding/ EAAT. Somewhere between age 13 and age 14, I learned it well - from my spunky Morgan mare Sudora. She was a great teacher and it's an important skill to have when working with horses (maybe the most important)!

 

(3) This is my first official riding student - MH - on our wonderful Quarter Horse cross gelding, Al (Yes, it was the mid-90s and yes, Al was short for Aladdin... our "diamond in the rough"... making this the first and last time I will name a horse after a Disney character).  MH went to many shows with us and rode in the Lead Line division, winning blue more than once. (I'm proud to say she was often the only competitor who could post! Plus, what a cute pair they were!) That's me leading - not sure if you can see my face clearly enough to realize how seriously I was taking her (our?) success.  But little MH looks pretty serious, too!
 

So, in my case anyway, Susan Cain's advice proved true.  I loved horses as a young teen, and as an adult I become unhappy if I have to go even a few days without being around them. Cain lists two other principles for finding one's important life projects: (1)"pay attention to the work you gravitate towards" and (2)"pay attention to what you envy." Although I only read Cain's book recently, I see how these concepts were also relevant when I was exploring what I most wanted to do with my professional life. 

Notes from Becker's "a good and perfect gift"

This rainy week, I read (and loved!) Amy Julia Becker's memoir a good and perfect gift: Faith, Expectations and a Little Girl Named Penny (Bethany House, 2011). Becker writes honestly and poignantly about the life-altering experience of first time motherhood, made more complex when just after delivery, she learns her newborn, Penny, has Down syndrome.

Becker's reflections on the diagnosis and on parenting a child with special needs were eye-opening to me, even though I spend lots of time interacting with people with special needs and their families! For parents, the experience of having a child with special needs is surely as unique as their individual children; however, I'm so grateful for the general insight I gained from reading Becker's sensitive, honest portrayal of parenting her daughter. I think it brought me a shade closer to understanding, a deeper empathy and heightened awareness of parenting in general and specifically of children with special needs.

Two of my favorite points from Becker's text:

• "Can she [Penny] live a full life without ever solving a quadratic equation? Without ever reading Dostoyevsky? I'm pretty sure she can. Can I live a full life without learning to cherish and welcome those in this world who are different from me? I'm pretty sure I can't." (123)
• I attended a conference where we heard a child development specialist speak about "responsive parenting." He said most parents of kids with disabilities focused on their child's weaknesses. Instead we should try to identify Penny's strengths and help her grow into those strengths... [this way] we would recognize how capable she really was." (158)

In an identifiable voice, Becker also discusses the very nature of special needs diagnoses and how damaging 'scientific' understanding of limitations imposed by diagnoses can be. A talented narrator, Becker lets the reader get to know her wonderful, charming, intelligent daughter so personally that it breaks preconceptions about Down syndrome, doing for the reader on the page what working with individuals with special needs has done for me in person.

It's such a strange, humbling feeling to realize that one has imposed limits on someone because of preconceived notions related to a disability: one feels so foolish but also so very pleasantly surprised. I have experienced this as a teacher for people with special needs (and am glad to say it has broadened my heart, mind and awareness!). Becker presents this experience (of being pleasantly surprised and learning from it!) from the perspective of a parent, and it's a viewpoint so personal and intimate that one feels honored to be included as a reader.

Fair warning, Amy Julia Becker writes from a decidedly Christian perspective (and Bethany House is a Christian publisher). However, while Becker's faith is on every page, I never found it stifling or overbearing, despite being of a more "generic" spiritual persuasion myself at this time. Becker is down-to-earth and comfortable in her spirituality: it is central to her life and she shares it as open-heartedly as she does her experience of being Penny's mom. I have a feeling she would say the two are inseparable. 

A wonderful read, especially for anyone who loves, teaches or cares for a person with special needs and abilities!

Madonna's Eye



This picture sits above my desk in my home office; when I glance up from working or writing, I see Madonna's eye.  Madonna was a horse I knew for many years, from when I was twelve and she was six, until she died when I was 30 and she was 24.  My sister, Kristen White, took this photo one summer and on the back, signed it: "Love, Kris."  Somewhere along the way, I saved some pieces of Madonna's tail hair, and they are curled between the picture and the back of its frame. 

I have lots of pictures of this mare - some of her grazing, some of me (and others) riding her, some of her and her only filly, who the breeder called Pebbles.  But I like having Madonna's eye on me - just her eye. It's a reminder to be my best self, the person I want to be when she is watching.

As young teens, my sister and I spent many long afternoons at the barn together, and we fought (a lot!).  I remember once I slapped my sister when Madonna was nearby.  The horse flinched with her whole body.  I felt so badly afterwards, in part for slapping my sister, but more because Madonna had seen me do it.  I didn't want her to be afraid of me or realize that I was capable of violence.  I loved this horse so much, and I believed I needed to be my best self in order to deserve her.  In this way, Madonna taught me the consciousness needed to manage volatile emotions. 

Madonna taught me so much. She was very spirited and over the years, it was a challenge to find people to ride, own or care for her when I wasn't able to do so.  She connected me with so many wonderful people - most notably JH & JH-Z who owned her before me, and MT, MB and AB who took care of Madonna in her twenties and found her a retirement home.  I am forever grateful to MT, MB and AB: my own life was very complicated during Madonna's later years, but they showed both Madonna and me compassion and made sure she had a safe place to retire.  They also recognized and loved her beautiful, sensitive spirit. 

In working out homes and training for Madonna over the years, I also met people who were dishonest and/or truly ignorant about horses. Having to deal with these situations and at times stand up for my horse taught me a lot, too.

Kathleen Lindley, horse trainer and writer says, "I would try to be, everywhere, the way I wanted to be when I was with the horses."  This photo reminds me of Lindley's words: I realize if I can take a deep breath, have honest intentions, and stay present, focused and kind around horses, I should be able to accomplish this around the humans in my life as well. 

In part, the photo connects me with this purpose.  On the other hand, the photo sits on my desk because just a glance at Madonna's eye reminds me what it felt like to be 12, grooming a gentle but curious mare, free in her stall.  How she would turn her head to look at me, maybe to nuzzle my arm.  It reminds me of the soft look in her eye when I would sometimes pull a bucket over and sit down outside, but within reach, of her stall door.  She would stretch her head over the door and rustle my hair with her muzzle, making me feel safe and important. 

I liked how she watched me, then. 
 

Notes from Riding on the Autism Spectrum, C.Pelletier-Milet

I was excited to read Riding on the Autism Spectrum: How Horses Open New Doors for Children with ASD by Claudine Pelletier-Milet (Trafalgar Square Books, 2012). Originally published in France, the translation of this text supports evidence of strong interest in the U.S. about the connection between individuals with autism spectrum disorders (ASD) and horseback riding. 

Ms. Pelletier's narrative details her inspiring work with horses/ riding and the autistic population near Paris, mostly very young children.  Her text is a useful historical record: Pelletier has been exploring how horses can facilitate positive changes for those with autism for over thirty years. Unfortunately, much of the theoretical basis for Pelletier's work is antiquated; she writes: "the crisis in an autistic child's life is triggered by the separation from the mother at birth: it was too sudden and too violent" (90).  This is a psychoanalytic theory largely dismissed in contemporary autism research (which tends to be neurologically based).  In fact, even the publisher, Trafalgar Square Books, acknowledges in an introductory note:  "...the French school of thought and related research pertaining to ASD differs in depth, perception and terminology from that in the United States and other parts of the world. We are thankful that the United States is a world leader in advancement of ASD theory and treatment" (8).

I suppose that part of my frustration with Pelletier's narrative is that it reads as if the author has stumbled onto the innovation of working with horses to serve those with autism: in reality, this practice is widely in place at therapeutic riding centers all over the U.S., many accredited through the Professional Association of Therapeutic Horsemanship International (PATH Intl.).  As a PATH Intl. certified instructor, I have access to a collective body of knowledge that colleagues in the field have developed, explored and relayed through mentoring and accredited trainings. Teaching those with ASD, I can practice these methods (which emphasize safety, sensory integration, social/ learning goals and basic riding skills); then innovate from there to develop the right approach for each individual. 

It frustrates me that Pelletier's book does not acknowledge that PATH Intl. has certified over 4500 instructors worldwide, and Centers serve over 54,000 people a year (not all with autism, but among those served are many on the spectrum).  I had a similar reaction when I read Rupert Isaacson's Horse Boy: I thoroughly enjoyed the narrative, which is a poignant account of Isaacson's personal experiences with his son, who has ASD, but I am frustrated Isaacson doesn't even acknowledge the opportunity for those with autism to ride horses at Centers that are accessible, affordable and safe. 

I know this sounds highly critical!  I have to add that both Pelletier's and Isaacson's texts draw positive attention to the potential that Equine Assisted Activities & Therapies (EAAT) have for those with ASD.  Overall, I'm glad they are in print for this reason and because they are wonderful narratives in their own right.  I learned from reading both of them... I just believe that what we do at PATH Intl. Centers is also worthy of a book-length narrative that is published and distributed on a wide scale. 

Of note from Riding on the Autism Spectrum:

• "Autistic children have a natural riding ability with poise and balance, and a riding seat that is often better than that of my other riding students" (64).
• "[When working with those with ASD]... I am very careful about my bearing, about how I show emotion and affection, about the tone of my voice and my choice of words... I do not rely on the artifices of normal modes of communication; I feel I get back to a more primitive, but purer mode... I am always calm and I use simple words that describe objects and a situation in the most direct way possible" (74).
• "There is an Argentinian doctor... who has proposed the theory that the very act of riding has an indirect effect on a person's jaw, specifically the bones near the base of the tongue, and possibly parts of the brain, because of the rhythmical motion of the horse that affects the whole human frame..." (107).  Interesting! I'd like to read more about this man's theory!

Overall, a complete book about horses/riding and autism is always an exciting read! 

 

Interesting Book about Dyslexia

In My Dyslexia (W.W. Norton, 2011), Pulitzer Prize winning poet, Philip Schultz writes about living with dyslexia, the language processing disorder with which he was diagnosed only late in life.  Schultz writes:  "This much is clear: the mind of a dyslexic is different from the minds of other people. Learning that my problem with processing language wasn't stupidity seemed to take most of my life..." (24).

Schultz describes intense difficulties learning to read, his anxiety in both learning and social situations, and even explains how language processing problems affected his ability to take part in his religion. (Schultz is Jewish and experienced frustration and anxiety over not being able to learn Hebrew.)  On the other hand, Schultz emphasizes how the unique thought patterns of dyslexia, and the coping strategies he was forced to develop, facilitated his development as a poet, teacher and creative thinker.  He writes: "There's no little irony in the fact that the very things I couldn't do have helped provide me with a profession and means of knowing myself..." (112).

I consider the universal truth of Schultz's concept: our lives are defined by both what we can and can't do, whether we have specific learning disabilities or special needs or not. 

Due to my background teaching and tutoring college writing and adults with reading difficulties, I've had a lot of opportunity to meet adults with dyslexia in learning situations.  Almost always these individuals are brilliant (business owners, tattoo artists, beauticians, chefs...) in one creative, intuitive subject, but struggle with learning in traditional classrooms and suffer subsequent social and learning anxiety. In My Dyslexia, Schultz is careful to make the point that when one is taught from an early age to accept, cope and even celebrate one's unique thought patterns, this anxiety about learning differences can be greatly reduced.

In Equine Assisted Activities & Therapies (EAAT), I have also had the chance to work with riders with dyslexia.  Horseback riding is an opportunity for those with dyslexia to engage in a "right/brain - left/ brain" activity, and there is evidence to suggest this type of activity is beneficial to those with dyslexia or other language processing disorders.  Riding is also a kinestetic activity and those with dyslexia often show proclivity for hands-on learning.  Throughout My Dyslexia, Schultz writes about the imposed difference of growing up with a learning disability (especially since he was undiagnosed) and the subsequent anxiety and low sense of self-worth.  He writes: "One's self-image is a very fragile and private thing.  On the most intimate level of all, the level of self-worth, every dyslexic owns a history of self-rejection and regret" (76). As a challenging but accessible kinestetic activity, horseback riding can become a successful learning experience that increases an individual's self-confidence in more universal learning situations.

My Dyslexia provides insight into a brilliant poet's struggles with the disorder.  I was interested in how Schultz's experience with dyslexia was defined not only be phonetic difficulties with the written word, but also with oral language and daily tasks (He writes: "If I had trouble learning to read a clock, know my left from my right, hearing instructions... how could I trust my own thoughts or anything about myself?" (37))  As a teacher, I was also struck by how many of Schultz's insights could apply not only to those with dyslexia, but also perhaps to those with ADHD, other learning disabilities or autism spectrum disorders.

Schultz's book contains important insight for those of us interested in supporting the holistic success of learners whose brains may work differently from our own!