The Magic of Groundwork

Zephyr and I walk to the paddock, out of sync. I am two steps ahead, energy too big. He plods behind, his head chopping up in response to the neighing of horses in the paddock behind us. He is not sure how to trust me, or me him.

My mind questions–how do I do this? how do I build a relationship? But it is so quiet compared to the knowing. Feeling him, feeling that sweet, nervous, wise, cautious, curious gentleness. He has never done this before; we have never done this before. Beginners mind. We enter the round pen and I take him off lead, feeling his uncertainty. A little bit of fear. Who, what, why, his energy communicates. I am confident, and naturally drop into my breath. Why? Because the voices of doubt have no home here. Because I am the leader, and he, like anyone else around me, can feel me and responds to that feeling. Hierarchies are formed, and keep both of us safe. Intention is communicated, energy is transferred.

When doing groundwork with a horse, they feel it all, one eye always watching you, four limbs moving powerfully through the space, discerning what to do next. Trepidation crops up when I feel doubt rise and my mind takes over, breaking the spell. I act, he reacts. I soften, watch, listen, let the exchange of cues guide me, and he responds. The mind has no domain here. I guide him to circle around me, back arm guiding his left hind quarter, noting the grace of the instep. Our eyes are always trained on one another, our peripherals taking in the scene unfolding. I raise my energy, deepen my breath, he quickens to a trot, and we live together in that space of communication–a oneness, held and suspended and there. Fully there.

I stay in that space the same way I would hold a pose in yoga, breathing, feeling, watching, allowing, holding myself in that place of heightened intensity, watching and waiting for that feeling that indicates it is time to come out. I feel his temperament change, from nervous and choppy to directed and smooth, ears alert, eyes bright. The communication is clear, he is being guided, the moment is intriguing, and he needs only to go from point A to point B to point C.

Then, he takes an off step and I lose focus, my breath gets choppy, my confidence wanes, and so does his. In a moment’s uncertainty he dips toward the left, and I suddenly regain that sense of knowing, my energy directing him back on the path. For a moment there is tension, and then he turns and trots on again, tossing his head. We find that place of connection again, of active ease together, and he circles a few more times. And then, sigh. I exhale and let my energy drop, the intensity of my eyes softens. He slows to a walk, his mouth chewing, integrating the series of interactions and requests. Then I stop rotating and my arms arc slightly down, coming to rest by my sides. I inhale and exhale, sigh again, and he stops, softens, turns in, and looks at me. I stand facing him, inviting him, my intention saying hi there, i am open. We watch one another, held by each other’s presence, some invisible web being spun between us. Two bright–eyed, curious, strong, gentle creatures coming together to connect over being.