Drawn like magnets, humans want to be near animals so badly. We can’t help ourselves, but we are a little scary. Animals should look at us cautiously. Consider their wry skepticism an honest survival instinct. We have only good intentions, but our love is red hot and we start young. Haven’t we all seen toddlers carrying pets who look nervous? Maybe the child is gamboling across the yard, half strangling a cat with one arm, giggling and running to show everyone. She catches a toe like all toddlers do, and they both take a tumble. Now there are tears and cries, scratches and blood. The cat has bolted, and the child doesn’t quite know what happened.

This is a great example because the youngster is cute to some of us, while others are horrified for the cat. A great example because so many of us act like children around animals. With the best intentions, we clutch them to our bosom or tease them or dominate them. Their behavior becomes a referendum on our pride. If the animal lets us walk up, if we can touch them, we beam and brag as if it’s hard proof of our superhuman worthiness. Look, the grizzly bear likes me.

This connection we want most is the nebulous part. I ask my clients about their goal or what they want to do. Do they want a tidy canter depart, or maybe it’s time to drive the mini? You know, something visible and quantifiable, like clearing a jump. But no, everyone wants a better relationship with their horse. Nebulous because it’s apples and oranges. Relationship is a human construct, a concept only existing in our minds. Horses are more concerned with safety in the real world, as any beautiful, intelligent flight animal should be.

Is sharing breath with a horse relationship? Or is it about trusting each other with our lives? Is it lace-dress-at-sunset romantic or is it being reliable when trouble arises? Do we pamper our horse like a lapdog or do we try for another nebulous goal like building their confidence? It would be simple if a partnership was something that you could buy off the shelf. Sure, there are training programs that promise a trusting relationship in a quick three-step process. Send the check today.

Packaged answers don’t work because each pair, horse and human, are so unique. Some horses have personalities and behaviors that frustrate us until someone mentions the horse is just like us. Then we have to reconsider if we might be in our own way. Other horses are just so quirky and different that we feel lost. They say opposites attract, and that might have been the plan when you got the horse. It’s a little overwhelming a few months later when your horse is still ignoring you. But none of that matters. Breed, purchase price, riding discipline… A skinny auction horse or high dollar competition horse, it’s all the same.

How to begin a conversation with an alien creature who doesn’t speak English and won’t leave the herd? How do we form reality out of the nebulous? Think both of you are undomesticated. Because we behave better with wild animals. We use our senses more and take less for granted.

The thing we call relationship is easy for horses. They live a cooperative lifestyle in a herd. There is no dominance battle for alpha nonsense, another human construct. And remarkably, after centuries of humans being less than humane with horses, they still volunteer to engage with us. Clearly, any issues are ours.

Relationship is harder for humans because we like to be right. It means we must care more about who they are and how they feel, more than what tasks they can do. We have to do it when they are insecure or confused. When they need to feel safe, even if it’s inconvenient for us. But this is the best part. We start that conversation toward safety with a task. “Can I help you relax in your canter depart? Can we ground drive over a tarp?” Nebulous but partly familiar.

It isn’t what we ask that’s different, it’s what happens next. We enable them to have a voice. You’d think this was easy, but it means that we shut up and linger in the nebulous. It isn’t fair to cross arms and judge everything that happens. Instead, we say yes. Whatever they answer, even if it seems they don’t answer, they are right. It sounds like a cliche, but this is what they mean when they say lay down the ego. We don’t think we have an ego until the horse refuses what we think is a simple task and the desire to throw a tantrum crosses our mind.

That is the perfect moment to blossom. When we learn it’s okay that we don’t always get to have our way. The forced predator brow releases, and every horse within a mile blows. Negotiation makes us softer.

We accept there will be things that are imperfect in the animal and in us. The secret is to focus on the best. We must practice radical acceptance because only then will our bodies convey that the animal is safe. We give up fighting, not that we become doormats. It’s more that we demonstrate the behavior we hope to see. We mentor good habits rather than force compliance.

Recently, someone asked me to recommend a horse training book that helped me. The books I read before aren’t necessarily what I would recommend now. No criticism, but if you are asking me personally, I’ve been looking for inspiration in fresh, unexpected places. The best horse relationship book I’ve read lately is Raising Hare by Chloe Dalton. It’s about respecting the autonomy of animals.

Partnership, this connection we dream of, work toward, wish was visible every moment, is an inside job. Not so much about the animal at all. When we let go of our clutching need, freedom emerges. I’d love to say all goals are easily possible. Just like real life, some work out and some don’t. We accept horses are a nebulous collection of individuality, experiences, and emotions. Perhaps not the answer we hoped for, but even that is a statement of trust between you. An honest “I can’t do it” is as good as a gold medal because you have risen above a primal language of predator and prey.

Comes a day when you can’t separate yourself from your horse, you see through his eyes. It’s deeper than understanding. Maybe they didn’t meet your expectations or maybe they changed you instead. Reaching the goal might not look like you expected. Partnership means it was never up to you.

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