The horse gives us all of the information we need in order to succeed in eliciting the highest level of movements and purest form of grace from him, if we but listen…

As riders, as humans, as members of society, listening is often a lost art. It is something we often long to receive from other people, that is the gift of them listening to us, and a talent we don’t often give enough attention to developing in ourselves. Listening involves more than our ears, it is not grounded only in the aural communication between one another, involves not the noisy chatter. Rather, listening involves every sense, those known and those unknown. Listening is the awareness of information and energy being conveyed to or near us. Listening is even self-directed, that is the awareness of our own energy, our own signals, movement, position in space and time. Our presence.

When we ride our horse it is easy to get locked into the habit of telling, of talking, of being the lead communicator. Dictating, directing, steering, controlling. Rarely do we simply listen, simply exist without our own input. We do not regularly surrender ourselves to dedicated observation. It could even be said that we have some fear of it. We do not understand fully that which is unknown - the listening. We fear what could happen if we relinquish our control and instead depend upon the horse’s input. So rather, we set down our listening, our observation, our awareness…, and pick up a new tool of constant chatter, constant output on our part, constancy without fluidity, without movement.

What happens when we listen? We transform the invisible into the blatantly obvious. We begin to see new depths of understanding that were not present during our chatter. The horse, like us, longs to be listened to. When he is listened to, he gains the confidence and encouragement to talk more, to give more of his energy, of his presence, of his beauty and grace. He transforms, as do we in our listening.

We are all capable of ‘hearing’ different elements, components of what is ’spoken’. We are all in need of hearing these things in a certain manner, a certain order, and what we hear is appropriate for us at the time. All we need do is listen. We listen when we carry an infinite mind, one which is not limited by time, order, arrangement, expectation, presupposition, demand, goal or thought. A mind which lives only in the present moment, is listening only to what is being given right now.

I think of a phone conversation with a very good friend of mine, we were unfortunately having an argument at the time, and he made the statement that he was a good listener as a friend, a statement which I could not agree to at the time. He asked how I could say such a thing, and I told him I wanted to tell him a story if he was willing to listen. In the moments it took me to compose my mind to arrange the story I wished to tell him, he was practically chomping at the bit, breaking into the silence with the question, “well aren’t you going to tell me the story?” Of which my response was that I would if he would only listen. Again, there was silence as I had been disrupted in my mental organization. Just as I was about to open my mouth there was another break in the silence as he remarked, “hello? I’m listening.” I chuckled a bit, though slightly upset that he once again stopped listening, to which I said, “I’m just waiting for you to listen.” This went on, back and forth for almost an hour, before he finally stopped and listened for about a minute’s length before breaking into the silence. I talked to him about it, I said that there was much more I could say without words, but he wasn’t willing or able to listen enough to hear that which I cannot give with words alone.

I think about this moment, with myself in the horse’s position. Just at the time I was ready to put forth effort and energy, willing to give a story, I was stopped, halted by the lack of listening. Stopped with chatter. Unnecessary chatter to convince me to tell a story I was on the verge of telling already. I think of my horses, I think if I but listen long enough they will give me their energy, their beauty, grace… their story. But if I stop listening for a moment, I stop it in it’s tracks. I prevent the horse from giving me just the thing he was prepared to but a minute ago. If I do this long enough, why would he ever consider telling me the story, if every time I only stop him to confirm that ‘I am listening,’ despite the obviousness that I have just stopped listening. I prove myself wrong.

So, to my horses I endeavor constantly to be the listener. The watch without time, that simply ticks on with consistency, fluidity, marking only the present for there is no measure of the past or future. To wait for the words that cannot be spoken, that which cannot be given with words. That which is only heard if I am listening.