There’s something about picking poo that opens the mental floodgates—some of my best thoughts seem to come either on the loo or while hauling a wheelbarrow through the field. Today’s pondering? That tricky balance between releasing pressure and staying focused, between letting go and showing up, both for ourselves and our horses.
Let’s face it—many of us carry a sense of obligation when we approach our training. We feel like we have to work on this or that, or accomplish something in particular. But horses are excellent barometers for pressure, and the arena? That enclosed space often holds tension from centuries of performance and expectation. It’s no wonder we and our horses start to feel the strain.
But what if we let ourselves—and our horses—off the hook?
I don’t mean giving up. I mean giving in a little, relaxing the grip, and replacing the word work with play. What if you went into the arena not to drill, but to explore? To listen? What if instead of saying, “I’m working on piaffe,” you said, “I’m playing with the idea of piaffe”?
This shift is subtle, but powerful. It opens a door to lightness, and to better results. Because play invites curiosity, and curiosity keeps us and our horses mentally and emotionally engaged.
If your horse says “not today,” that doesn’t have to be a roadblock. Maybe the trails aren’t available, but can you wander around the arena? Can you put down some poles and make a labyrinth? Can you hop off and do something in-hand, or even let your horse canter loose to get the endorphins flowing?
This is how we let ourselves off the hook without losing the thread of what we’re working on. We can still stay on point. Sprinkle bits of your intended exercise—like seasoning in a recipe—into the playful activities. Over the course of an hour, you might find you’ve accomplished just as much as if you’d set out with full focus from the start. Except now, both you and your horse feel good about it.
This mindset lets us recreate that feeling of freedom—the reason most of us fell in love with horses in the first place. We remember the open trail, the sun on our face, the joy of movement. We bring that into the arena, instead of tension.
So that’s what I’m playing with today. I’m taking my horse into the arena, I’m listening closely, and I’m asking: what does he need? What do I need? And how can we still gently orbit the thing I’d like to explore together?
Let us know if this resonates. And if you enjoy our Poo Pick Ponderings, please give us a thumbs up, subscribe, and tell a friend. You can also explore more at our Helios Harmony online course.
Until next time—play more, pressure less.
