All the Wild Horses: Choosing Connection over Control
Success to me is not about driving the nice car, having the big house, going on lavish vacations, rather it’s about the depth of the relationships around me. I want to have relationships centered on connection, and I don’t want to sacrifice that for the sake of completing a task. One of my greatest life teachers on this subject has been a horse, not a human.
Roland is a sassy quarter horse, who’s registered name at birth was “tornado kid” if that tells you anything. He had been passed around to several owners until I laid eyes on him, my rescuing archetype kicked in and the rest is history.
Wild Child
I got Roland the same year I got married. My word of the year then was “love.” Six years with this horse, six years with this husband. I have been bucked, thrown and charged at by Roland. He would lie down in the field while I was riding him and eat grass lazily. I had judged him as stubborn, without turning to myself for where my own naivety and fear enabled his poor behavior. When he would act out, I would think “hmm he’s just having an off day, we can be done for today…have some treats buddy.” Roland took charge in the absence of my confidence, and would make decisions for us both, moving my feet, leading to a constant yielding of me to him, and deepening patterns of mistrust in both of us.
Early in my work with Roland, I mistook my rescuing him as connection, when it was really control, driven by my own anxieties. Because I chose him I had a false sense of indebtedness and never asked anything in return. I have been faced with my own insecure attachment patterns of wanting to run when it gets hard. I would move the goal post when things weren’t working and say, that’s ok, we can try a different goal and that will be enough for today. I would run in fear when he would run towards me. The more I accepted and made excuses for the behavior, the more I enabled him, and the more I reinforced the belief that my requests in relationship weren’t important or valid.
When only one side is yielding in relationship, in the absence of a shared leadership, there becomes toxicity and stiffness. Roland learned to connect through control, to try and get control of my emotions. If he could make me feel scared, frustrated or confused, he didn’t have to learn how to control himself. As a horse, he had learned in previous ownership that the biggest one wins. Others had likely beat him into submission and compliance, but that was never an approach I could get behind, rather I slid into what I thought was patience, but was really passivity.
I realized several years into working with Roland, that part of the appeal was the challenge. I had been on vacation trail rides before on a totally checked out horse, devoid of any connection. I don’t want a “broke” or “bomb-proof” horse that will never react because he is so dissociated. I want a horse that I am connected to, that is alive with a vibrant, thinking, and feeling in relationship—a horse that is choosing to be in partnership with me. A horse sees the most transparent version of a human, even when we try to hide it from the world. I want to be solid enough in myself that I am someone a horse will trust. The horse will react to the thoughts, feelings and emotions of the human. Horses communicate through posture, movement, vocalization and they value congruence. Roland has taught me that I can’t just blindly control those around me to try and manage my own feelings, I must shift that locus of control within and regulate myself regardless of what is happening around me. Part of my work with Roland has been to earn a secure attachment, and to think about how I can make and respond to requests while recognizing and honoring we are each our own being, with sensations, feelings and thoughts. Roland taught me to step into courage, I taught him to think and connect.
Connection over Control
During a year of covid quarantine, I undertook training in Natural Lifemanship for equine assisted psychotherapy, and Roland was my horse partner. The training involved turning in self-recorded videos of Roland and I working together, building a connection. For my level 2 training, one of our tasks was to complete a video culminating in me being a partner with whom Roland theoretically would choose haltering, saddling and riding. Every task in the process was meant to be done with connection. I found myself so caught up in trying to get the video done, that I haltered Roland, even with him backing up saying “no” just to get the filming complete. I went into task overdrive at a cost to the relationship between us.
I wanted to hide the video I had recorded of me and Roland trying to get this task done, but instead I shared with my group. I tried to hurry Roland’s timeline of growth to bend to the deadline of my assignment, trying to get things to be “perfect.” In rushing to check off a task, I ended up controlling Roland, and both he and I were afraid. It was tough feedback to digest, especially as a general perfectionist when it comes to most academic pursuits.
Watching the video back was humbling. I saw myself using coercion and control over connection and realized how often I slide into this in relationship with my loved ones. “Do the dishes this particular way or it’s not good enough,” hurts my husband and our relationship. Being type A got me through two very elite universities, has earned me tons of certifications and accolades, but does not work when it comes to intimate and familial relationships.
I realized how often I seek task completion even at the expensive of relationship and connection. When we make success just about checking off boxes, we end up boxing ourselves in, with limited choice for alternative definitions of what success could be.
Roland has taught me to balance relationship and task. I don’t want to get so caught up in my myopic multitasking that I lose sight of what really matters. I often manage my own emotions through lists, striving to check things off and often not giving myself the space or time to stop and appreciate the process. However, my work with horses has challenged me to shift this mindset and to bring back the importance of holding space for relationship in any task that we expect to complete.
Facing Fear
The morning of my 30th birthday I had visited the Navajo nation and had been honored to stay in a Hogan. I woke up with the sunrise and walked out on the hot sands. I was greeted by two wild horses, one red, one white. I walked just a step or two forward and the red one ran towards me playfully. I froze, suddenly terrified, and felt my legs turn to jelly. I didn’t know these horses; I wasn’t at all in control of this interaction, and I viscerally felt afraid. Yet it was magic. Some of the best relationships, throw us to the razors edge of vulnerability. When we let go of control, we get connection. The more connected we are, the less in control we must be. Had someone walked up with two haltered horses that morning, it would have been much more controlled, and way less connecting. I want to choose to stand in the fear of the unknown, at the edge of vulnerability, on the precipice, greeted by the wild horses at dawn on holy lands.
Often when I work with couples, I invite them to stand back-to-back, equal parts holding themselves up, equal parts leaning, adjusting their height and weight differentials. It can be vulnerable to lean on a partner and to trust them to carry you. Each person has a different capacity for what they can carry in a shared relationship. I can’t carry Roland physically, but I can carry him emotionally being a source of grounded co-regulation for him. Each person in the exercise has a 180-degree perspective on what they can see, half of the responsibility, and together they form a full picture. When we assume our half is the complete view, we miss the mark.
Horsemanship has been a great humbling for me and has taught me more about marriage and partnership than anything else in life thus far. Our partner always knows, sees and feels more than we can ever know. They always have their 180-degree perspective. Our feelings are valuable, just as valuable as our partners. We can never have a complete view of the picture without their lens too. Can we assume positive intentions of our partners and allow for the process to be a gentle unfolding?
Roland and I have each had to practice giving each other tough situations and opportunities to get regulated. Can I move your feet to keep you safe, with the least amount of pressure?” I ask him? “Can you control your own emotions and approach me in confidence without fear?” he asks me. We are in constant conversation with each other, negotiation, connection and holding tight to that intention for love. To climb up on Roland’s back and ride is a deep and intimate relationship where we are both very capable of hurting each other and both extremely vulnerable. He can throw me, and I can hurt him. But to be in sync, in rhythm, is profoundly connecting.
After a year of vulnerability, practice and self-control, laying the groundwork, being on equal footing with him, being terrified, knees shaking, asking for space, asking for connection, we finally had the ride of our lives. Roland invited me on his back and together we traversed hills and valleys, tight turns, crossed creeks and bridges, and he and I both stayed beautifully connected. We still hit road bumps from time to time, we are still working on trusting each other, but we are showing up to have the conversations necessary for ongoing connection.
Intentions in Relationship
Virgina Satir said if we look at the state of our families, we will know the state of the world. How many families and couples are crumbling, when one member asserts their will at the expense of the other, without connection. If we want to heal the world, one place to start is in our own relationships.
I want to connect with Roland without controlling. I want to stay regulated when I feel abandoned. I want to offer coregulation, not rescuing, when I want to help him. I want to have the stamina to not take his actions personally, instead to meet him with compassion without contempt. I want to hold space for his being, without enabling. I want to offer feedback without blame, and appreciation without judgement, to join with him without smothering, to invite without demanding, to help without offending, to take space for myself without guilt. I want these intentions to flow through my marriage and all my relationships and partnerships.
Love is about the messiness, not the perfection. Every encounter in life is full of learning. It is not a sterilized hallmark plot, it’s raw and deep and tender and lonely and full of joy and delight. It’s like scooping up water from a waterfall, it splashes all over you in the process. Love is the water; we are the cups. It flows over, and that is beautiful.
