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It’s
Not About the Horse
"My name is Wyatt," he says to the seven people in front of him. "Welcome to the Equine Experience." A sweet,
musty smell of horse lingers in the air, and for no reason at all, a 1,300
pound chestnut gelding named Monsoon rears and tears off in a farting,
sweating gallop. This is his way of welcoming people. Monsoon’s massive
body, thick mane and tail fly through the air and he releases a high-pitched
scream that rips into your eardrums and rattles your insides. By the looks on their faces, these people are ready for an experience of joy. They don’t appear to have felt it for some time. They miss the feeling and that’s why they’re here. Wyatt starts the session by telling these folks that he’s not here to change anybody’s life. "I don’t have the power to do so," he says. "I don’t have your answers. I’m not here to argue with or discredit traditional therapeutic modalities. I’m not accusing anybody of doing a shitty job or saying that traditional psychotherapy isn’t helpful. But I certainly hope that we can add to whatever already exists in the therapy world as you know it." Wyatt then shares what Logan, the counselor who helped save his life, his mind and his very soul 22 years ago told him: If you’re to achieve the peace, joy, and spiritual fulfillment that you want so badly, it depends upon one thing and one thing only–your willingness to simply do something different. Wyatt has been a practicing therapist for a number of years, but his tools don’t involve a leather couch and his helpers don’t arrive in suits or high heels. "You’re going to clean some hooves," he tells the group, "and you’re going to groom the horse. "How you relate to this animal will tell us what you’ve learned over the course of your lifetime concerning how you relate to all living things. Your basic training has come from learning how to treat people." He pauses and adds, "Remember one thing: It’s not about the horse. I can teach you a few basic skills that will keep you safe in any barn in the world, but what we’re here to look at is what you’ve learned over the course of your lifetime that either works for or against you in your relationships." He stops for a second and then continues. "Keep in mind that you’ve been conditioned to be externally focused in all of your relationships. This is one of the true impediments to our being able to learn anything about ourselves. Let me ask you this: How much time do you spend during the day wondering what others are thinking and feeling, and concocting stories about why they’re behaving as they do? See, as long as I’m focused on you in such a manner, it will be impossible for me to connect with you because I’m not present with myself. "So, what I suggest you do is pay attention to what you’re thinking and pay attention to what you’re feeling. Know that these two things dictate the way you live your life. By focusing your attention internally as opposed to externally, you’ll be able to be present enough to connect with any other living thing, which will also cause you to take responsibility for your life and how you live it. "I won’t judge you, but I will observe. I pledge to tell you the truth, to be kind, but sometimes to be blunt. Together, let’s examine the stories you’re making up to see how many of them are based in reality. Personally, prior to the age of 36, almost every story I had was based in a lie." He makes
it clear that the person dealing with the horse is the one who tells the
story. And Wyatt turns to the group and says, "We’ve been imprinted. We’re born being called ‘bundles of joy.’ Well, that’s true. Babies generally are full of joy—they’re born happy and remain so unless they’re hungry or experiencing some discomfort. Once that’s alleviated, they’re right back in the joy state. They’re at one with everything when they arrive on the planet. They run on pure emotion. "They don’t know what it means to doubt themselves or to be afraid until about five days into the trip, when they begin to soak up the energy of the adults," Wyatt says. "Then they feel the inconsistency. At this point in time, welcome to a world full of scary people. "Every culture I’ve ever been subjected to appears to be frightened," he explains. "I’ve been working as a psychotherapist for 20 years. If I could boil down every problem that ever walked through any office that I’ve occupied– and this includes when I’ve been alone in the office– every human being suffers from two things in varying degrees of intensity, two things that are taught to us. They’re called self-doubt and fear. "There’s
the fear of physical harm and of emotional harm. There’s the fear
of not being good enough. There’s the constant fear of being discovered.
Anyone who really wants to grow, expand and know who they are has to travel
uncharted territories all the time. So that kind of person has Wyatt shakes
his head and tells a story about what he learned from Monsoon about a
year "I was
about to move into a canter for the third time, and again I felt that
I was off balance. This time, I was determined to win. I said, ‘The
hell with it,’ and cued him anyway. Monsoon shifted his massive frame.
I was so off that most of my weight shifted forward, which in the horse "In that humiliating, spirit-crushing, bone-aching, ah-ha! moment, a light bulb went off in my head. I thought to myself, I finally get it. Anytime I’m in a relationship with any living thing and I have the need to win, the possibility for connection and closeness is over. All I ever wanted was that closeness and connection. In fact, I think we’re all homesick for it." He goes on to explain that he’s never had that same issue with Monsoon again. "I’ve had that problem with a few people," Wyatt laughs, "but I’ve been able to reign it in because when I find myself trying to win, it’s time to stop. Because somebody has to lose. This whole culture is set up this way. We’ve got to win, which means we’re going to lose. It means that we cannot even hope to connect with each other." For Wyatt, it’s all about connection, and the first step to healing is connecting with a horse. The issues that show up when we move to connect include mental, physical and emotional abuse– not limited to marriages on the rocks, parent-child relationships gone bad, and much worse concerns including rape and abandonment. The group is brought into a large arena and each person is told to choose one of the six large, inquisitive horses waiting for them. Next to each animal is a small bucket with tools to clean the horses’ hooves and various other grooming utensils associated with preparing a horse for saddling. Wyatt tells everyone to approach his or her horse and greet the animal at its shoulder. He takes one young man aside and suggests that he stop rubbing the horse for dear life. "Try to leave a little fur on the horse, because the sun is gonna come out and I don’t want him to get burned," he says quietly to the young man. "You also don’t need to sweet-talk him." "I’m trying to get him to like me, so he’ll cooperate," says the man. "So," Wyatt asks, "is this one of your learned behaviors? Is your motto: If I’m nice to you, then you must be nice to me back?" "I guess I always try extra hard to get people to like me," says the young man. "I figure if I’m the nicest person in the whole room, people will have to be nice to me back." "Let me suggest to you the fallacy behind that one," he explains. "You’re not really being nice to anyone. You’re being manipulative. You’re only acting nice in the hopes of preventing people from rejecting you. True kindness comes with no charge. Later on, the universe just pays you back." The mini-dramas being played out on this sandy desert floor can easily become much more serious, though. For example, Katie, a young lawyer whose parents abandoned her and sent her to live in various foster homes is afraid of her horse because she’s scared to death of being rejected again. "If you walk through your fear that something must be wrong with you, then what you always find on the other side is that there’s nothing wrong with you. And there’s nothing to be afraid of," he tells her. "What happens then?" the woman asks, sobbing. "When
you get to that other side, there’s only one thing waiting–
joy." |
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