TRINE BØHNSDALEN AWARE
The power of horse-human interactions
SHORT STORIES
TrineBøhnsdalen AWARE
Kolofon Forlag AS 2023
2ndedition2024
The project is produced on behalf of Trine Bøhnsdalen
All rights/responsibility for the content of the project are attributed to Trine Bøhnsdalen Enquiries beyond ordering the product should be directed to Trine Bøhnsdalen
ISBN 978-82-300-2G13-7
Production:KolofonForlagAS,2023
The book can be purchased in our online bookshop bokhandel.kolofon.no or in bookshops. The book can also be purchased via: www.trinebohnsdalen.no/bevisst
Cover design: Sveen and Emberland
Photographer:TrineBøhnsdalen(exceptforimagesonpage17andpage130/131,here the photographer is Samirah Hohl)
The material is protected under the Copyright Act. Without express consent, copying, such as printing and other copying, is only permitted when authorized by law (copying for private use, quotation, etc.) or by agreement with Kopinor (www.kopinor.no). Utilization in violation of law or agreement may result in compensation and criminal liability.
To Tres and Shilo, Haywire and Kong Gla, to the Haida stallion, and to every other horse I've met.
These stories are about you, by you and for you.
Aware
The ability to register, experience and sense what is happening in the environment. and in yourself
Introduction
What happens when a horse and a human meet?
One a predator, analyzing and assessing, the other a prey animal, sensing and feeling. How can the interaction between two such different species, bring to the surface so much of the unconscious that goes on inside us humans? Do we understand the horse's behavior as it is, or do we create our own interpretation of what it means? Can understanding the horse better help us be better with ourselves? These are some of the questions the stories in this book explore.
This book is for anyone who loves horses and wants to understand their interactions with them better, whether you've been working with horses for years or find it best to admire them from a distance. It is also for those who are interested in the psychological perspective of the interaction between humans and other animals, and for those who are curious about how being aware, or not, affects this interaction at any given time.
Ever since I was a child and went to riding school, the interaction with horses has fascinated me. From the first time I met a pony characterized as "grumpy" when it stood in its stall, I've wondered about what the horse is really trying to communicate with its behavior. The search for answers to this question has influenced much of my life and led me on journeys in many different directions. From running my own stable and training horses, to working for trainers abroad in various western disciplines, and starting young horses.
I have also met many talented horsepeople through my time as a journalist and have valuable experiences with my own horses to look back on. With every new insight I gain about horses, humans, and behavior, it's like a new layer is revealed and the two lines under the answer need to be erased.
Jac Panksepp was an Estonian-American neuroscientist and psychobiologist who coined the term "affective" neuroscience, the name given to the field that studies the neural mechanisms of emotions. Panksepp's studies showed that the various emotion systems found in the human brain are also found in other mammals. This means that we share many of our basic emotions with the horse. In addition, the horse, as a prey animal, has a strong need to feel safe. Through its total awareness, and ability to observe and sense tiny changes in others, the horse can perceive the activation of other beings, and can often respond to, regulate, or mirror these sensations.
Could it be that these abilities enable the horse to recognize what is going on inside us humans? Does this mean that by understanding more about the horse and how it responds, we can develop a deeper insight about ourselves? Can we, by becoming more aware of what is happening in ourselves, experience a better understanding of the horse?
Stories about meetings
In this book you'll find a collection of short stories about understanding oneself in the interaction with horses, and about what it's like to be a horse in a man–made world. There are stories about all the things the horse perceives completely differently from us, and how we often attribute our own feelings and interpretations to horses and situations. There are also stories about how the relationship with the horse can be linked to the relationship we have with ourselves and others.
These stories are from encounters with horses and horse people throughout my life that have taught, inspired, and sometimes frustrated me. Some of the stories are descriptions of my own experiences with horses, specific situations between horses and people, or encounters with horse people as a journalist, instructor or trainer, others are reflections on how the horse perceives the world, and personal texts about trying to understand more of myself. Some texts are directly written to the horse, or to you, the reader.
What each text has in common is a glimpse into the interaction between horses and humans, and some of the challenges that can arise in this relation. The texts are thematically divided into eleven chapters, which provide an overview of the main theme of the texts, yet many of the themes overlap throughout the book. Some of the stories are from decades ago and some are recent experiences. They are not written in chronological order. Each chapter begins with a poetic text written to the horse. The stories in the book can be read in any order you like, but I would recommend reading them over time, for example by reading a story or two, putting the book down and reflecting on what you have read. Maybe you want to go out to your horse afterwards and observe the behavior in a different way than before? Or maybe you want to look at the interaction between a horse and a human with new eyes? When you change the way, you look at a situation, the situation often changes too. This is perhaps one of the most important messages of the book.
Ever since riding school, every day of my life has been filled with horses, both as a lifestyle, a passion, and a livelihood. The driving force has always been to understand horse behavior and to communicate better with the horse. I have a degree in psychology and behavioral analysis, which ties together my fascination about understanding behavior in both horses and humans. In addition, I have further education in equine-facilitated psychotherapy and learning. In recent years, I have held clinics, teachings, and lectures all over Norway in the field of horse-human relationships and the theme of this book.
I also have a degree in journalism and photography and have worked as a freelance journalist for many years, focusing on equestrian sports. The illustrations in this book are taken from my own photographs (with the exception of those in which I am depicted), and many are directly related to the text they illustrate. They range as widely as the stories themselves, from herds of wild horses on the move, to horse training, cattle herding and small moments of connection between horses and people.
The stories in this book have all given me a greater awareness of how closely intertwined the understanding of horses and humans really is and has given room for reflection and contemplation on the importance of being aware. I hope they will be able to do the same for you.
- Trine
CHAPTER 1
About THE HORSE
Difficult horses
Perhaps You are not really that difficult, but perhaps you are experiencing something difficult?
Another beginning
It's the first morning ever that I can't find her in the pasture. She's not standing with the other horses. My headlamp sweeps across the lower part of the pasture, but it doesn't reflect in her eyes. Is she sensing what's about to happen, or is it a coincidence? I walk back towards the stables.
Where could she be?
She's standing at the back of the shed and comes out when she sees me. "Hello, my girl!" I greet her. She lets her muzzle move over my hands, like she always does. I give her a nugget. And another one. I put on the halter. The lump in my chest grows. The trailer is ready, standing outside the stables with the parking lights on. There are lights inside the trailer, and the driver has put up a net of hay. He takes the lead rope from me and tries to lead the mare firmly into the trailer, as if not giving her time will make the operation easier. But she stops and sticks her head on the outside of the trailer ramp instead. The driver pulls her head back.
Then she looks at me. She pulls towards me. It feels like she is asking: Why are you just standing there? with a silent look and big, dark eyes. I'm the one she knows, the one she has a relationship with. But I remain passive on the outside. Why?
It's almost like the driver senses the wordless dialogue between us. He hands the lead rope back to me. I take a deep breath and straighten her forelock. I look at her overgrown mane, which neither of us at the farm fixed. I had never trimmed a fjord horse mane before but said that I could give it a try. But I never did.
Now it was too late. It was decided that she did not fit in at the farm where I worked. She wasn't suitable for use in the therapy sessions. When I started working with her, I didn't think our relationship would end the second it actually began.
I take a deep breath and let it out again. I ask her if she wants to take a step onto the trailer ramp. Hesitantly, she says yes. She takes her time with the hind legs, but then she realizes that the same principles apply now as in all the sessions we've had together. She feels the pressure in the lead rope and hears the familiar clucking sound. She then walks forward and right into the trailer. I give her all the nuggets I have in my pockets.
She stands alone inside the trailer, on this early morning in January. Many hours on a trailer along the narrow, winding roads of western Norway awaits her. She's going to a new place, with new people and horses. She will leave behind the other fjord mare she had become such good friends with here at the farm. The two mares had supported each other during their time as newcomers. I've learned that horses can form lifelong friendships.
She will probably never meet her fjord mare friend again. Nor will she see any of the other horses or people on this farm. Like many horses, she'll soon be on her way to a new place, with new relationships and new rules. Just as she did when she arrived here this summer, she will try to adapt to a whole new life. It's a change she has not chosen herself.
The trailer disappears in the darkness down the road, past the fields where the other horses are standing. The mare on the trailer whinnies. I never see her again.
Wild horse fighting
The sun has not yet risen over the Pryor Mountains, a mountain range in northern Wyoming in the USA, where several hundred mustangs live. The sky is pink, and in the first soft morning light, two foals are playing. They run after each other between the other horses. A dun-colored horse keeps an eye on them.
The dun horse stands for a long time on the top of the plains without moving a muscle, while the sun slowly climbs up the back of the Pryor Mountains.
A penetrating whinny is heard from further down the valley. The dun horse lowers his head, puts his ears back against his neck and nods his head up and down in the direction of the small herd. It's time to move.
As the herd starts to move across the dry plains, another whinny is heard. This time closer. The dun horse leaves the herd and strides downwards. He holds his head high and walks with quick steps. Some way down the valley he stops and waits. A slender, grey-colored horse emerges from the plains. He walks directly towards the dun horse.
Soon the two horses are standing so close that the whiskers on their muzzles are touching. Both horses are breathing heavily. The grey horse takes a step forward and they press their muzzles against each other's flanks. The horses tense their muscles and exchange loud snorts. Theenergy builds up. Theystart moving synchronously across the plains. The dun horse makes sure that the rivaling horse does not have the opportunity to come between him and his herd waiting at the top. He stops abruptly and lifts one foreleg high in the air before stamping it into the ground. His energy fills the whole valley. It's as if the entire wild horse range is his kingdom, and he is a king that cannot be defeated.
Shortly afterwards, the grey horse's energy decreases. He starts to focus on a different direction and slowly moves away. He stops to scratch his jaws against his knee. The dun horse stands still and follows him with his gaze.
The grey horse continues his trek across the hilltop and disappears, while the dun horse strides up to the herd waiting at the edge of the forest. He leads them down into the valley on the other side and up to the next hilltop. In the light of the day's first rays of sunshine, they stop and graze; the dun-colored stallion, his two mares, the yearlings, and the foals.
The stallion lifts his head and shakes his whole body, as if he's covered in a layer of dust he wants to remove. He snorts deeply, followed by a grunting sound, and even more snorts. Then he swings his tail, lowers his head and continues grazing.
Waiting for you
A few years ago, a young girl contacted me regarding her colt. She explained that he had become difficult to lead. "He has so much energy," she said, and told me that he often reared and jumped at the slightest thing. He pushed into her and often kicked out, so she had to make sure no one was around when she led him from the paddock.
The girl hoped I could help teach the horse to respect her more, so that he didn't do all these things and instead followed her calmly and obediently in from the paddock. I understood her desire. It didn't seem safe at all to handle the horse the way she described him.
At the stable where she boarded the horse, he stood alone in a square, graveled paddock at daytime, with an electric fence around it. The girl was afraid that he would hurt himself if he was to share a paddock with another horse. Besides, the rules were such that each horse had its own paddock. So, the young horse lived alone in a small paddock. There were several rows of these small paddocks, and on each side of the young horse there were horses in their own paddocks. There was a small gap between them, so that the horses could not reach each other.
Her horse was a beautiful, long-legged four-year-old gelding that had just been started under saddle. He had a dark grey, smooth coat, a groomed tail and a freshly cut mane. As we stood outside his paddock chatting, I asked the girl if it was possible for the horse to gallop anywhere. The paddock he was standing in barely allowed for one canter stride before he met the electric fence on the other side. The girl shook her head.
I then asked her if she could let him loose in the riding arena from time to time, but the girl replied that she didn't dare. She feared the horse would hurt himself.
I asked if he could have a horse friend to stand with outside, since physical contact, including scratching each other, is one of the most important behavior needs for equines The owner replied that it was not usual for horses to stand together on this place, and she didn't think anyone would want to put their horse with hers.
I then asked if the horse could perhaps be given a little more outdoor space, environmental enrichment, or something else that stimulated him during the day, besides lunch feeding and her coming in the afternoon to ride him. Otherwise, he just stood there, on this flat, fenced-in patch of gravel. Unable to move naturally, like a prey animal like him is designed to do, and unable to socialize with other members of his specie, like such herd animals have a strong need for.
In fact, the young horse was completely unable to occupy himself with anything during the twenty-four hours of the day, a third of them which he spent standing on the gravel outside and the rest in a small box in the stable. He had nothing to do with his young horse energy other than waiting. Waiting for food. Waiting to be led outside. Waiting to be led inside. Waiting for her.
It was perhaps not surprising that he had become a handful to deal with. He only really had three opportunities during the day to express himself physically: when he was led out to the paddock, when he was led in from the paddock and when the owner came to train him.
I really wanted to help the girl with the challenges she outlined, but it became clear that the handling was not the main problem. I explained to her what I thought might be the reason why the horse had become difficult to handle, and what was important physically, mentally, and socially for a young horse, in order to be healthy and balanced.
I realized that this was not what the girl wanted to hear from me. She looked around restlessly, as if she was wondering why no one else in the stable was having the same problems. Why couldn't I just help her make him more respectful when she was leading him? That was in fact what she had contacted me about, wasn't it?
I gave her my best tricks for the further handling of the young horse. A form of first aid. It didn't do anything about the actual cause of the handling challenge. I knew that very well.
I think the girl knew it too. But the price she had to pay; changing the horse's environment and living conditions all those hours of the day when she was not present, was currently too high to pay
That's why the young, long-legged gelding still stands alone. In a square, graveled spot with an electric fence around. He still has nothing to do with his energy, other than waiting. Waiting for food. Waiting to be led inside. Waiting for her.
Behavior is language
On a warm autumn day, someone had called me repeatedly on the telephone. When I finally got around to answering, there was a desperate voice on the other end. The lady explained that she had just bought a horse from the Netherlands for herself and her daughter. It was sold as safe and childproof, but when the horse came off the transport, they were met with something completely different: An insecure and tense mare, who trembled and kicked at those who tried to remove her transport boots
The lady felt misled. She said that she and her daughter had been looking forward to getting to know the new horse, but it didn't turn out quite as they had imagined. In the box, the mare was uninterested in contact. When they walked up to her, she pinned her ears and turned her hind end towards them. She bit at them when they tried to groom her. She also bit when others in the stables tried to put a rug on her. This, however, was under control, the lady explained. They tied her up to put a rug on her, so she couldn't bite. They also tied her up if they wanted to saddle her, to avoid any biting behavior.
The others in the stable had clear ideas about the mare's behavior and had explained to the lady that the horse was playing tricks on them. Now the mare had learnt that she was the boss of her and her daughter. This was dangerous, they said. Many suggested that the lady should make it very clear to the horse that it was not allowed to bite people. Or threaten. Or step around in the box when she was being brushed.
The lady explained on the phone that she had tried this. She had slapped the horse for biting, put her foot down and said "No, that's not allowed!", "Bad girl!" and "Stop!" repeatedly. But on the phone, she confided that it didn't feel like it helped at all, quite the opposite. It was as if the mare just became more and more insecure around her and her daughter, the people who were supposed to be her safe people in this new place.
The lady went on to describe how difficult it had been to shoe the horse the first time. At the time, the horse was cross tied in the specific place used for shoeing at the farm, one of the places in the stable where the mare was least comfortable. At the same time, a feed trolley had driven past in the stable aisle, and some of the other horses had started neighing, pawing and kicking the stall wall. People came and went, and the mare had become increasingly tense. The farrier only managed to shoe two of the horse's legs. "Next time we must drug her," the farrier had told them.
The lady had called me, hoping I could help them changing the mare's behavior. She wanted help to get the mare to stop her aggressive behavior and listen better to her and her daughter. She wondered if it was true that she had to "show the horse who was boss" when it exhibited this type of behavior.
Like so many others who contacted me, the lady seemed to think that she was doing something wrong, or that the horse was doing something wrong, and that a trainer might be able to help fix what was wrong, so that it became right again, and the horse stopped the unwanted behavior. Still, I heard how the lady herself noticed several things about the story she told. Nuances in the situations she described. There were small details that made me realize that the lady was wondering if there might be other explanations.
Was the horse happy, for example? The lady didn't really think so. Did the horse feel safe where she stood in her stall, with metal bars between her and the neighboring horse, which she used to rub her teeth up and down against when it was feeding time? Did she lie down and sleep in the shavings at night? Was she in pain? What if the mare's behavior was an attempt to say something about being in pain? The lady and her daughter gave the mare hay as often as they could, which they thought calmed her down. The lady didn't think the mare could have ulcers, as her manure seemed normal. When I suggested that the symptoms of ulcers could be as diffuse as everything she had described so far in our conversation, she fell silent. It almost seemed as if she was getting some kind of confirmation of something she had wondered about herself. Maybe this wasn't just about bad manners or being disrespectful. Maybe something was really wrong?
Towards the end of the phone call, the lady's voice was no longer desperate. It was firm. It was like her gut feeling had been confirmed.
"I think I'll start by getting hold of a veterinarian first," she concluded.
"That sounds like a very good idea," I replied.
Her perspective
The big, brown riding horse stops in the middle of the road. His ears point straight ahead. He tightens his muscles and lets out a snort. Then he tries to turn around.
"Come on now, stop being silly!" says the girl on his back. She quickly grabs the other rein and turns his head back in the same direction again, so that he must look at what's in front of him.
The horse arches his neck and widens his nostrils. He does not blink.
He's not quite sure what's in front of him. He uses all his senses to orientate himself. Is the shiny, moving mass in front of him dangerous – or not?
The horse gently stretches his neck down, but the bit that he carries in his mouth stops him from bringing his head all the way down to the water. The girl holds the reins firmly. She doesn't want him to jump over the pond, but she doesn't want him to walk around it either. He should just walk straight over it. There's nothing to worry about, in her mind. It's just a pond. She squeezes with her legs and clucks loudly.
The pressure from the girl's legs pushes the horse's body from an orientation response to the first, active defense response. His heart rate increases, and his body prepares itself, without him being consciously aware.
What could be hiding under the surface of the water? How deep is it? What if he falls in? What if there's a tenacious and bottomless bog underneath, so he gets stuck and can't get out? Or what if something is lurking beneath the surface? Something that will attack him?
He doesn't have these conscious thoughts, but his body senses a possible threat and prepares itself. The safest solution is to not enter the water. The horse sets his body in motion towards the side of the pond.
"Come on now!" The girl is starting to feel irritated. What kind of nonsense is he up to now? It's just a puddle! A puddle in the middle of the dirt road on the way to the forest, a road where he's walked a thousand times before. She tightens the reins. The horse certainly isn't going to get his way by going around the pond. He may be big, but she's the boss. She is.
The horse's heart rate increases. The body's first defense strategy, moving away from the threat, is not working. What should he do now? Automatically, his body prepares itself for a second, active defense strategy – resistance. If he can't move away from the threat, he must try to move the threat away from him. But the threat now is not the pond itself. The threat is the messages from his rider that he must go into the pond. His heart beats faster. The blood drains away from his face and down to vital organs instead. Stress hormones are released in his body. The muscles are getting ready for use and his senses are sharpened. It's the sympathetic nervous system that's in control now.
The horse's jaws clench, his muzzle tightens, and his gaze hardens. He shakes his head and whips his tail. Then he paws the ground with his front leg.
The girl taps him on the hind end with her whip. He threatens to rear up and then he starts to back up. The girl squeezes and clucks, pushes and taps, but they still end up backing further and further away from the puddle.
The girl's heart rate also increases. She doesn't want the horse to win this battle, but the situation makes her feel unsafe. What if he doesn't stop backing up? What if he throws her off? What if he stumbles into the ditch and injures himself? Different options race through her head as quickly as the horse goes backwards.
The horse no longer responds to her reinforcers. He's completely looked down. The girl looks at the whip. The long, black dressage whip, the one she always rides with. She has given him a tap on the hind end. And another.
But she knows there's a difference between a tap and a lash. There's a clear and distinct boundary between that and what she will do to the horse. The girl sighs and jumps off.
"Look here then, I'll show you."
The horse stops. He lowers his head and sniffs at her. The girl pulls the reins over his neck and leads him towards the puddle. The horse hesitantly follows. At the puddle, she stops and steps into the water with one leg. Only the heel of her boot gets wet. The sound of the water makes the horse jerk backwards and snort loudly. He stares at the water with big, round eyes.
Gently, he lowers his head and blinks. The girl gives him time to investigate, and during this time changes occur in his body. Unconscious changes, that he does not control of his own will.
His body deactivates the active defense responses it was in: Resistance is no longer necessary. Movement is ready as a response if it is needed again, but for now the horse is alert and activated, without being over-activated. His nostrils dilate and take in the smell of what is in front of him. His eyes are wide, his body tense.
The girl gives the horse long reins. He lowers his head and touches the water with his muzzle. The girl walks through the puddle and over to the other side.
Before the reins are tightened, the horse takes his first step into the water. The signals from his hoof, which hits solid, safe ground just below the surface, travel through the body and up to his brain. There, the sensation is associated with other similar experiences. Firm ground. Safe. The horse gets the green light and takes another step. Then he hurries over the whole puddle, after the girl. She smiles and pats the horse on the neck.
The horse takes a big sigh. His body completely deactivates its defense responses. All the energy in the horse's body is released or changes shape. The heart beats slower. The sensitive skin around his mouth tingles and itches as the blood flows back to his muzzle. He puts out a foreleg, lowers his head and scratches his muzzle against the leg. He then shakes his whole body.
The girl picks up the reins and jumps back into the saddle. Then they continue their ride towards the forest. She thinks about how she didn't really lose, even though she got off. After all, she got him through the puddle eventually.
Wanderlust
It was the hour before sunset, and the sun was casting almost horizontal rays through the mountain birches above the cabin named Hestsetra in Søkkunddalen, in the very south of Rondane. It covered the valley in a soft, peculiar light.
I spent the summer up here in the mountains with my two horses, Tres and Shilo, and my dog, Colt, far from people and cell service. Every evening, just before dusk, we would all go hiking together in the big fenced–in area around the cabin. I had no agenda about where we were going on these hikes, I just wanted to be with the horses before the gnats emerged from their hiding places, making it impossible to be outdoors for the next few hours.
One such evening, we all stood at the top of the marsh on the south side of the cabin. Shilo had found herself a small pit where she gnawed on a mixture of roots, bog water and soil. Tres was grazing close to me, as if my legs were hiding the best grass around. Colt was busy doing his own thing further down the bog. There were only a few meters of soft soil at the top where the bog began. On the other side was a dry hill that continued next to the bog. I walked across the soft marsh cushions and looked around. It didn't seem as if the horses had been over here yet.
Tres followed me across. He was curious, wandering here and there, sniffing the bushes, and nibbling on tufts of grass. It seemed as if he didn't realize I was there, but I knew he was aware of my every move. Shilo also decided to come along. She had always been wary of wet areas and spent a lot of time finding the best way across the soft ground. It was a great skill in the mountains.
As soon as Shilo had crossed to the dry hill, she sniffed her way to a small patch of lush mountain grass close to the fence. After a while, she wandered on determinedly, as if she was late for an important meeting. Tres and I followed as best we could, but soon she was out of sight, disappearing further down the valley. We picked up the pace after her.
These walks were not about words, wishes, or demands. Rather they were about the feeling of connection, regardless of the distance between us. There was also a feeling that it was somewhat random which of us controlled where we went. Someone took the initiative, and the one who took the initiative and was followed by the rest of us was the one who led. For the most part, it was Shilo who led, as she often had the clearest intention of us. I had also noticed that she usually had the best ideas about where there was juicy grass, or where it had been a long time since they had last grazed.
At about the same height as the cabin, Shilo turned and walked down towards the bog, which now lay between us and the cabin. The bog was much wider down there, and there were a narrow bridge not suitable for horses. Shilo moved purposefully into the marsh next to the bridge and walked slow and softly across without stepping through. Soon she was over on the other side and trotted up the field.
Tres followed, although skeptical about where Shilo had crossed. I saw how the stress in his body built up as Shilo disappeared further away. It was the same stress that often caused him to make some slightly hasty decisions when we were riding in the mountains.
He didn't exactly choose the most strategic place to cross and plumped into the bog so his hindlegs disappeared down to his hocks. In the past, a move like that would have stressed him even more, but this time I could see that he had learnt something from all the time we had spent in the mountains. He arched his back, like a cuddly cat. His steps became long and slow across the marsh. It was as if he realized the value of positioning his hooves so that he didn't step through the vulnerable top layer. He took big steps, lifting his front legs high with his shoulders and taking his time to set them down in the right places. His head was lowered to the ground, as if he was sniffing out the best way forward. As he reached dry land, he galloped full speed to find Shilo.
I chose the narrow bridge. When I arrived at the cabin, Shilo was grazing in one of her favorite spots, just behind the barn. Tres, on the other hand, had built up a lot of stress in his body, which he needed to release. He lay down and rolled a couple of times before jumping up and galloping off, kicking out with both his hind legs and front legs. When he reached Shilo, he gave a good snort and started to graze next to her.
The first gnat of the evening introduced itself, so I thanked the horses for the walk and went into the cabin for the evening. Although our walk together was over, the horses were getting ready for round two of their evening walking. It had taken a while for me to realize that the way they moved continuously around every single evening just before dusk, was actually a clever tactic to avoid the gnat. As long as they kept moving, they were gnat-free.
This was one of those things that was hard to understand if I just stood inside the cabin and stared at them from the window. But it was one of the many things that made sense once I spent time with them outside, being present myself and taking part in their world, rhythms, wants and needs.
Trying to understand
A lady sent me an e-mail about a mare she had recently bought for her daughter. They had only had the mare for two weeks, stabled at the riding center where her daughter had attended riding school for several years.
"The problem is that she doesn't want us to brush her. If she's loose in her stall, she just turns away and puts her head in the corner. And if we try to touch her udder, she threatens to kick. We must be able to touch her there. My daughter is getting anxious, and we don't know what to do. We don't understand what she's trying to tell us. Is she trying to be the boss of my daughter?" the mum wrote in the email.
When I arrived at the center to meet them for the first time, I greeted a mother and daughter who were standing outside the stall belonging to a small, red mare of warmblood build. The mum asked if I wanted to go inside the stall and greet the mare. I looked at the mare who was standing with her butt towards us and her head in the far corner.
"No," I replied.
Both mum and daughter looked at me in confusion.
"There's nothing about her body language that indicates that she wants to say hello to me."
They continued to stare at me as if they didn't understand anything I was saying. They had never questioned whether they should enter the horse's stall or not. I saw the situation in a completely different way, but they couldn't know that until I explained what I saw.
I therefore talked about body language and signals from the horse, things that were completely unknown to them. I explained that the horse's calming signals, such as turning its hindquarters towards something or someone, like their mare was doing, often could be a way for the horse to signal that what is happening, the situation or the pressure we are putting on, is too much for it to handle. I knew that this was contrary to the traditional way of viewing this behavior, where it was often seen as threatening and aggressive. Of course, it could be indicating this as well, but then there was often a different context, a completely different energy, and many other signals from the horse, which were not present in this situation.
Turning its hindquarters towards something could also be a way for the horse to communicate that it didn't want any conflict, something most horses try to avoid as much as possible. I also mentioned that two weeks isn't always that long for a horse to feel comfortable in a new place, and that the udder, for most females, was a vulnerable place they protected if they felt unsafe. Perhaps the mare just wasn't confident enough yet to allow being touched there?
The mum's eyes softened as she looked at the horse. It was as if she had never thought about horses this way before. She looked at the mare with wide eyes, as if she was only now realizing what kind of animal was standing in the confined stall in front of us.
We ended up taking the mare out of the box and the stable. I asked the girl to bring her grooming kit and the mare in a halter with a long rope, and to groom her on the outdoor arena instead, while holding the mare by the lead rope. Then I suggested that she pay close attention to the mare's small signals and try to see when she expressed that something was uncomfortable. By giving the mare the opportunity to move as a signal, we gave her an alternative to communicate instead of aggression, which she was forced to use if she was tied up or felt confined, with no possibility of movement.
If the girl noticed that the mare started to move or otherwise signaled that she was uncomfortable, she was to stop what she was doing and adjust her actions. Use a softer brush, don't brush as hard, or perhaps move the brush to a different location on the horse's body. In this way, the girl could also communicate with the mare, letting her know that she was trying to listen.
A week later, I sent an email asking how things were going. The mum replied immediately.
Hi Trine, thanks for your help. We've learnt a lot since your visit. We have a completely different horse now, who thinks it's okay to be brushed, in the stable too. My daughter often brushes her on the outdoor arena, so she has the opportunity to move around if she needs to. We see her in a completely different way now than before. And we realize that everything she does with her body is just her way of communicating to us. We try to understand a little more, every day.
CHAPTER 2
About PEOPLE
Understanding myself
Imagine if it's not really about understanding you better?
Perhaps it's all about understanding what it is that you sense in me?
Then maybe understanding myself is the answer, no matter the question.
Not about the horse
It was the last lesson of the day at a stable just outside Oslo, and I was standing in the riding arena with a lady and her Icelandic horse. In front of us was a horse trailer with the ramp down. The lady wanted help with trailer loading, and she had just handed me the lead rope. As I handled the mare, I talked about reading her small signals, gaining control of her hindquarters, and asking for a step forward. Not all the way into the trailer. Just one step.
The little Icelandic mare seemed relaxed in front of the horse trailer. She had a gentle look in her eyes and followed all my suggestions for movement. I felt that if I wanted to, I could just ask her to go straight into the trailer and she would say yes. I turned to the owner.
"Do you want to take over, so I can see how the communication is between the two of you?"
It was starting to get dark, and I didn't see the look on the lady's face when she took over the rope. Maybe I would have realized it then? The lady walked over to the horse trailer with the mare and stopped in front of the ramp.
"First of all, it's all about finding calmness," I said. "Just standing still in front of the trailer, without asking anything. That's the starting point."
But there was anything but calmness between the two of them. The mare moved restlessly around and pulled on the lead rope. She stared back at the stable. The owner stood completely passive, as if she was unable to move.
"How do you feel right now?" I asked quietly.
She fell silent. Then she burst into tears. I grabbed the rope as she sat on the ramp and put her face in her hands. She sobbed softly.
"It's like I can't breathe," she said.
"I feel really sick. I hate this. I don't want to ask her to go on a trainer ever again!"
She then told me about the drive when the mare had been so scared on the trailer that when they stopped and opened the back door, the mare had fallen backwards off the trailer by pushing herself under the hind barrier. The lady had told the story before the lesson begun as well, but this time she told it the way she herself had experienced it, in her own body. That's where it was hiding, all the fear. It wasn't the horse that feared the trailer. It didn't really seem like this experience had traumatized the horse in any way, even though such experiences often does.
No, this time it was all hiding inside the horse owner’s body. On a conscious level, she had been sure that the Icelandic mare no longer wanted to trailer load because of the traumatic experience, but it wasn't the Icelandic mare that had stored the memories as traumatic, it was the lady herself.
Tucked away in her subconscious, almost impossible to access, were the intense memories of the accident hiding, still unprocessed. But her body remembered. Through its own language, her body talked about what had happened and how important it was not to end up in the same situation again. As it turned out, this was a language the little Icelandic mare, or any horse really, understood very well.
Under a tree
He was a horse trainer I had admired for many years because of his impressive training of the wild Mustangs. He had been champion multiple times, standing in the spotlight and receiving checks and trophies. I had been so excited to interview him and had driven through several states in the USA to reach his ranch.
Now the man showed me around the ranch while he told stories of the Mustangs, each standing in their own paddock, eating hay. At one time, they had all been wild horses, roaming freely, unaware of this human world. Looking at them now, this seemed like a lifetime ago.
I followed along, nodding politely while taking notes. As we rounded the stable and his large log house, I caught sight of a horse standing on top of a small hill. It was tied to a large tree.
"What's going on up there?" I asked, pointing to the hill. The man froze in his tracks
"Oh." He cleared his throat. "I didn't think you'd see that."
"That's where they start the taming process. They stay there until they give up... you know, fighting." He took a deep breath and smiled faintly.
"But you don't need to include that in your story."
I looked at the tall man in jeans and cowboy hat. In the competition arena, he showcased beautiful, responsive, and safe Mustangs, which carried him through challenging obstacle courses without any equipment. Horses that had once been wild, living in small family groups in the country's wild horse reserves, where there was only yellow-brown grass and no shelter from the biting wind.
The man walked between the paddocks and talked about his plans for the next mustang championship. He talked about the spectacular acts he was going to make his new mustang perform, if he made it to the finals.
I turned around and looked up at the horse at the top of the hill. I realized that when the lights were turned off in the show arena, and the man drove home after an eventful show weekend, the horse was still up there waiting for him. Still tied to the tree, on top of a small hill, behind his big log house.
Calmness training
A tall fjord gelding stood cross-tied in the stable, his ears peaked and his eyes alert. The girl next to him told me that she had owned him for almost three years, and that she wanted to focus on calmness training this lesson.
As she stood there telling me how the horse found it difficult to calm down and always seemed to be doing something, I carefully watched the horse. He was standing still and breathing quickly. As soon as the girl moved, he locked his ears on her and tried to communicate things with big movements. Could she be so kind and scratch his belly, please? Or maybe loosen him from the tie-down hooks? Or how about letting him into the stall with the open door? He lifted his front leg to paw the ground.
The girl explained that it was often like this. Every time she loosened the ropes that tied him to the stall walls on either side of the aisle, he would lower his head to scour the ground for leftover hay or take a bite of the blankets hanging there. If given the chance, he would grab the lead rope and chew on it. The girl had initially thought this was just young horse behavior that would pass, but now it seemed like it had become more of a habit for the horse.
I had never met them before, and I listened to the story the girl told about the horse. At the same time, I was also listening to something else. All the things that weren't told by the girl, but by the horse, and the interaction between the two. It was the little signs the horse made with his body, from how often he blinked to how tight the skin around his mouth was. It was how he tried to communicate, and whether his owner noticed this or not. In addition, I picked up the energy, and all the environmental variables in the situation. All of this came into play when I was trying to form an impression of the interaction between them.
While I stood there, I also tried to sense what was happening in myself. Sometimes I found that I felt many different things when I met horses and people like this. In the beginning, I concluded that what I felt was my own feelings, but over the years I realized that wasn't always the case. Sometimes it was as if my body acted like a radio tower that picked up the frequency from different stations. It could be from the horse and the human, just the human, or just the horse. I didn't always understand which stations my body was picking up, and I was still working on sorting out these sensations.
We eventually moved towards the riding arena. The girl was talking to me and didn't realize that the horse was slowing down and pulling his head to the side to get a few mouthfuls of grass. She pulled his head up and kept going. I walked behind and watched the whole thing. The horse repeated the same thing twice.
When we entered the arena, the horse had many thoughts. He wanted to scratch. He wanted to bite the rope. He wanted to come over and say hello to me, see if I had any sweets in my pockets. He wanted to go out to the fence and eat grass. The whole time the horse was constantly doing something. It was like he couldn’t just stand still and lacked the ability to find calmness in the situation
I suggested that maybe the girl could stand a little further back by his side, around where the saddle went, so it wouldn't be as easy for the horse to reach her with his muzzle. I explained that she could pretend to be glued to his side, and if he needed to move, she could let him walk in a circle, while still being glued to his rib cage. The goal was just for them to stand still together, without doing anything. I found this to be an important starting point in any horse-human interaction.
The girl nodded. But when the horse started to back up, she completely forgot to glue herself to his side. "He thinks I'm asking him to back up now," she explained, and then the horse had backed up so far that the girl was standing by his head again. He nibbled gently on the lead rope, which he then took ahold of. The girl went back to his side and immediately began to scratch him. He showed his pleasure by making his upper lip long, then he lifted a hind leg and turned his head to point to the next place he wanted her to scratch.
I felt a restless feeling in my body and asked if I could feel the horse for a second. The girl handed me the lead rope and took a few steps away.
As I received the lead rope, the feeling of restlessness rose, and I felt a strong need to ground myself. It wasn't the first time that feeling came when I took over the lead rope of a horse I didn't know, and I realized that my body, the radio tower, had picked up a frequency from another station. Was it perhaps from the horse? I took a deep breath, shook my body loose and felt how I was standing balanced, with my legs firmly planted in the sand of the riding arena. I remained standing there, grounded.
The first thing the horse did was to see if I had any treats. Then he tried to bite the rope, and I made sure that the rope was not as easily accessible as before. When he got tired of chasing after the rope, he turned his head to try to point with his muzzle where I should scratch him. I politely declined his initiative and ignored his continuous pointing with his muzzle. I also declined to engage in any of his further suggestions. I exhaled, calmed myself down completely, and stood grounded next to him, doing nothing.
The horse walked around and looked at the girl. He tried to go to her, but then the lead rope became tight. He walked back to me and tried to lean on me. I didn't make a big deal out of it.
Finally, he stopped, took a deep breath, and let out a long sigh. He lifted a hind leg and rested it on the ground. His mouth went still, and his eyes softened. He stood as still as when he was resting in the paddock, and we stood like that for quite a while. In theory, it seemed so simple, this exercise where horse and human should just stand still next to each other, safe, attuned, and present. Yet, I kept realizing that it was one of the most difficult exercises for both horses and humans.
"He's never stood so still with me," the girl exclaimed. We talked about what could be the reason for this, and I told her what I had picked up from the horse. This feeling of restlessness and the constant need to do something, and all these feelings I had felt in my own body, which I was pretty sure I had picked up from the horse.
The girl fell silent. It was as if she was connecting something she hadn't previously thought could be related. She said she was recognized everything I said I had picked up in the horse. She said she recognized it in herself.
"I'm being assessed for ADHD this week," she said, and looked at the horse, still standing calmly next to me.
And then it wasn't so strange after all, what I sensed from the horse. This sentient prey animal, designed by nature to sense other individuals activated nervous systems. To connect, adapt, regulate, respond, attune or reflect. Maybe it wasn't the horse that needed calmness training after all?
Good horse people
Good horse people are everywhere. But they may not be at the top of the podium. Maybe they've never won a single competition. Or maybe they just weren't good enough this time.
Good horse people are everywhere. But you still must look closely to find them. They don't stand out from the crowd if they don't have to. They have nothing to prove, but everything to show, if you get the chance to observe them.
Good horse people are there for the horse. With empathy, understanding and attunement. They support, guide, encourage and feel. They are always there for the horse before the competition. And after the competition as well.
Good horse people know that the minutes in the show ring are only a small part of reality, and that the most important part of the horse–human relationship is built before and after. Good horse people also know that a yes from the horse has no value if no is not an option
When the lights go out and nobody's watching - that's when good horse people come into view. As guiding lights along a dark road, they inspire and fascinate. Their knowledge, care and understanding of the horse is exactly what makes them so good. Good horse people also know that even if something works, it's not always the right thing to do.
That's why good horse people make room for the horse to be itself, both with and without baggage. They listen to the horse, regardless of whether it uses small or capital letters. Good horse people accept the horse for the unique individual it is.
Good horse people know that it's not the color of the rosettes that determines good horsemanship. But neither do obedient, safe or sociable horses. That's why good horse people are there for the horse, no matter what it shows, or what it carries in its history.
Good horse people are everywhere. They stand out from the crowd with their unique awareness, and with their kindness and love for the horse. But you might have to search a bit to find them, these good horse people. Not everyone is able to pick them out from the crowd yet.
Breathe and feel
My phone rang. It was the horse owner coming for a lesson to the farm where I was working.
"I've lost the horse," she said in a high pitch tone. "I'm outside, but I don't know where he is!" I looked out of the stable and there she was, without a horse.
"He ran away when I went to open the gate to the riding arena. Maybe he's by the horses in the paddock we passed on the way here?"
"Yes, I'm sure he is," I answered, asking if I should bring a bucket of grain.
"No! Not food."
"No?"
"No!"
"I see, should I bring a halter?"
The lady had already started to walk towards the horses on the other side of the farm.
"No," she replied.
At the back of the main house, in the ditch between the fence and the road, we found her horse. It was a fjord horse with a saddle on.
"It's probably best I approach him, and that you keep your distance," she said. I slowed down.
Once there, she took hold of the horse. He looked anxious.
"Maybe we should stop here, and see if he can calm down a bit in the situation, maybe breathe out and ..."
"We did all that earlier," said the lady.
"Well, maybe just give him some simple tasks right here then?"
The lady began to send the horse around her, letting him walk behind her back while she changed hands on the rope. The horse's head went in a completely different direction and my heart rate increased. The owner couldn't see what the horse was doing behind her back, and she was just about to lose him once again.
"I wasn't thinking about lunging necessarily, but..."
"No, we don't do lunging!"
The horse waltzed around her, unfocused and full of adrenaline. He paused for a second, took a breath and checked in with her. The lady did not notice this.
"Why don't we walk over to the entrance to the riding hall, and I can open it for you?" I asked. Once there, I opened the small door in the center of the gate, instead of pulling the whole gate open.
"He can enter the big gate. He needs to learn it. That's when he pulled away from me earlier." She grabbed the lead rope with both hands.
"Maybe it's a bit much for him right now and it would be good to make entering the arena as simple as possible?"
"He doesn't need it. He should be able to go through the big gate."
"Well, you've just told me that this is the first time he's been outside his home farm, and the first time he's going into an indoor arena like this. Maybe it's a good idea to make it easy the first time he goes in here?"
She led the horse through the open door. Well inside, she turned the horse around and took off her jacket.
"I think we got off on the wrong foot, I didn't mean to be so harsh with you, but I know him, and I know he shouldn't react to that gate."
"That's perfectly fine. I completely understand that all of this was a bit overwhelming. How about you just lead him around and let him settle down for a few minutes before we start?”
"He's six years old now. I like to start them a bit late. If people only knew how much happens inside those legs as they develop... Did you knowI'm a dressagetrainer? Yes, I've been teaching for many, many years. Now I'm getting too old, nearly 70 years old. How old are you? 35?"
"Ehm, yeah, pretty close. How about you see if you can connect with the horse now, try to see what he needs? Maybe he could benefit from you giving him some simple tasks?
That will give him something to focus on other than his own insecurities. He probably knows you well, so maybe if you take a deep breath and ..."
"I'm not too sure about this breathing and feeling stuff that you practice. I knew you would focus on that, but I'm much more about discipline. And right now, he shows me that he is spoiled! He shouldn't be this close. Do you see that?"
The horse stopped so close to her that he had to turn his head to avoid squeezing her. He glanced out of the windows and looked at a group of seagulls circling the fields. The lady grunted and pushed the horse backwards with her fists closed. I noticed how the horse tightened his jaws.
"But if you think I'm one of those 'breathe–and–feel' people with the horses, and you don't care much for that, what can I contribute to this session then?"
She stopped close to me. I took a few steps back. She followed with the horse.
"I really just wanted to get to know you. I have a lot of experience with horses. I thought maybe that..."
She looked at me, her eyes glistening.
"We kind of met in the middle of a battle, didn't we? You probably think I'm really awful."
Awful?
"Here I am, not managing anything at all. And then I'm so harsh with you while you just stand there. You're just being nice. I'm not really like this, not at all."
"It's perfectly fine, I completely understand that it was an overwhelming start," I replied.
"Actually, this is what I know best, handling young horses. I have tamed many horses in my life. Mostly I've been involved in driving. I have another horse at home too. I'm a bit more into discipline and respect. I want them to have respect for me. A lot of horses don't have that anymore."
The fjord horse shook his head and pawed the ground with his front hoof. He glanced back and then lowered his head to the sand.
"I was thinking maybe you could stay on the ground while I ride him a bit. He's only just started his mounted training, you see. I thought it might be nice to have some company."
It would be great to have an environment here, to train together. Do you think there will be opportunities for that? I can't afford to pay for lessons every time, it's far too expensive. Maybe we can help each other out a bit?" She looked at me.
"I'm sure I can help you when you're in the saddle eventually, but not today. Perhaps the most important thing today is that you and your horse have a good first experience of being in a new place and in an indoor riding for the first time?"
"Do you only help people who have real problems? What do you actually do?
Are you riding at all, or is it just about breathing, and feeling things on the ground?"
"I ride as well. Do you think it might be better for you to work on your own today? Maybe you don't need my guidance?"
"Yes, you're probably right. Is that okay?" she asked
"Yes, that's fine," I replied.
"You know, I know everyone who works with horses in this area. They knew I was going to have a lesson with you today. They're so curious. If this lesson doesn't go well, you could lose a lot of potential customers in the area. It's important to follow up with customers. And you know what? Can I be completely honest with you?"
She stepped closer. I took a few steps backwards. She and the horse followed.
"I tried to call you this weekend, but you didn't answer. She'll probably call back the next day, I thought. But you didn't. What kind of customer follow-up is that, anyway? When I was teaching, I always called if there were new students, so I could find out a bit about them before the lesson. Imagine, you know nothing about me! I turn up here and you have no idea about me! And you didn't call me back. You should have."
She looked at me. The horse danced around, nudging her with his shoulder.
"No! That's enough! Cut it out!"
She growled at the horse, slapped him on the chest and pushed him backwards. The horse arched his neck and laid his ears back. I saw the wrinkles around his nostrils and in the corner of his mouth.
"He's spoiled, that's what he is. That's what he's shown me today, and I'm so disappointed! I had thought we would have made more progress and that we would be riding today. I've put on the saddle and..."
The horse exhaled and stood still for a few seconds.
"He seemed to relax a little better for a moment there," I said, nodding towards the horse.
"Yes, he's ready to be ridden now. Do you have one of those climbing stools?"
"I'm not going to help you ride today."
"All right. But he's just spoilt. He has no respect. You know, I've been all over the world with horses. Been fox hunting, even. I've seen a lot of ugly handling and riding. You know what the worst sport is? Western. What kind of riding do you do?"
"Western."
"Oh, yes." She paused.
"Do you like wine?" she asked
"Eh. Yes?" I replied.
"Then I'll get you a nice bottleof wine for Christmas. You're a good listener. You're not easily thrown off balance. I'll recommend everybody lessons with you!"
"That's very nice, but you haven't even experienced me teaching yet?"
"No, but for those who are interested in this breathing and feeling stuff, you're probably great."
Nobody likes you
The horse in the yard lowers his head into the water bucket, drinks until no longer thirty, and turns towards her. He puts hisears back and wrinkles the skin around his muzzle, then turns his hind end around and walks back to the pile of hay laying in the middle of his paddock.
At the gate, his owner is left with the halter in her hand. A faint, almost triumphant, voice proclaims that it was absolutely right. Do you see? Nobody likes you. Not even your horse.
Along with the voice comes the creeping feeling of shame for not being the horse person she wants to and should be. The feeling that, no matter how many thousands she spends a month on stabling, feeding, veterinary care, equipment and training, the horse doesn't want to come with her from the paddock to train if there's hay left in the paddock.
The horse's flat ears make her feel rejected, that she's not good enough. It's a feeling she has experienced a lot in her life. It's as if tenacious matter manages to seep into a small crack in her and make everything dark inside.
She realizes that she doesn't want to train anymore today. Maybe she should just go back to the stables and do the essentials, then get home and curl up on the couch.
No one else would have let their horses get away with such behavior. You should chase him away from that pile of hay now. Tell him you're in charge!
The voice is there again. Always talking to her as if it knows the answer. As if she knows the answer. Because isn't the voice herself? Inside her head? Nobody else can hear it, can they?
She feels a warm feeling spreading from her stomach up through her chest. Perhaps it would be the right thing to do, chase him away from the food, chase him so much that he would eventually change his mind and want to come and train with her? After all, she had been on a weekend clinic about this; making the wrong thing difficult for the horse and the right thing easy.
Yes! she thinks. That's what she was going to do. Simply train him here, in the paddock. If he didn't want to be with her, she would make it so uncomfortable for him that he eventually would want to be with her instead.
She starts spinning the lead rope, walks firmly towards the horse and clucks loudly. The horse lifts his head and looks at her. He puts his ears back and tosses his head in her direction. The energy hits her like a physical stone in her diaphragm She stomps brusquely towards him and swings the rope even faster. Any moment it will hit the horse on the muzzle if he doesn't move away. It's as if she's convinced that meeting his resistance with resistance in return will equate softness as a response.
Reluctantly, the horse backs away from the pile of hay and away from her. Encouraged by this response, she continues to follow, with the lead rope swinging ever faster. The horse trots up to the small forest at the top of the yard. She doesn't give him a break there either, following with a swinging lead rope and a brusque demeanor. The horse gallops down to the gate again and stares over it, before slowly turning around and looking at her.
She feels a satisfying feeling spreading through her body. There, yes. Now it's a much more pleasant contact than before. The horse hesitantly takes a step in her direction. His ears are locked on her.
"Hi there! Would you like to come out and train?" she asks the horse. He stands with his ears pricked up, watching her every move. When she comes up to him and shows him the halter, he sinks his head into it. She opens the gate and leads him out.
The training went well. The horse did as he was told. He always did as he was told. Yet there was something she felt today, but didn't quite understand. Her thoughts were churning, long after she had put the horse into the stall for the evening and
made her way home. It was as if she had finished a drink with a slightly bitter aftertaste.
Had the horse's behavior really been about her?
He wasn't thinking anywhere near as complicated as she was, she knew that. But what if he had just felt the want to eat his hay, or the fear that she would take it away from him? Could it be that simple? The thought hit her like a sudden change in the weather. Her whole body reacted.
Maybe the behavior the horse had shown today hadn't really been about her personally at all? Whether she was good or bad. Or whether she was worth liking or not. Maybe he didn't have the ability to think in such a rational way? Maybe it was just about what he was feeling at that particular moment? Maybe he didn't put that much emotion into it?
Or – maybe he put emotions into it, but didn't put so much meaning into the emotion? Maybe emotions, for him, were just a natural reaction in his body, telling him something about the situation he was in, or the association to similar situations he had been in before?
It was as if all the dark matter inside of her suddenly disappeared. Poof. Gone. She felt overwhelmed by the ruminations and the brain trying to construct answers, make conclusions, understand. Yet, it was remarkable how calm she felt considering these new options.
And that voice inside of her – the one that was always there to give her its best advice, but which always ended up making her feel miserable – was for the first time in a long time completely silent .