Riding Far, LLC

June is shaping up to be a busy month.

Whether you're looking for conversation, competition, hands-on learning, or simply a chance to spend time around thoughtful horse people, we'd love to have you join us.

We're looking forward to welcoming Pippa Callanan later this month and heading to Oak Spring Equestrian Maryland Working Equitation schooling show - we're taking Artie and Kola - if you're going to be there please come and say hi, we'd love to meet you.

More information and sign-up links can be found in the Events section of our page or in the Linktree in our bio.

We look forward to seeing you this month.

One of the things we enjoy about creating intentions each week is that they help guide our attention.

Not to what we can control.

But to how we want to navigate whatever the week puts in front of us.

These intentions came from today's Facebook Live conversation about gratitude, artistry, and the reality that life rarely unfolds exactly as we expect it to.

This week's intentions:

Dr. Paul's intention is openness to all possibilities.

Justin's intention is to explore the art in my day-to-day.

What intention will guide you through the week ahead?

📸 Erin Gilmore Photography

Psych Saturday: The Child in the Saddle

I was four, maybe five years old. We were at church, which, as any four year old could tell you, is not an experience designed with four year olds in mind.

I could not sit still.

Quite honestly, I am not sure I was actually capable of sitting still.

When the family returned home after services, I found myself in time out. I know my parents were well intentioned, trying to teach me self control. Yet it had a different impact than they intended.

What I did not understand then, and what I would spend a good portion of my adult life working out, was that an expectation had been set that I simply could not meet. Not because I was defiant. Not because I was bad. But because of my level of development and maturity on that particular Sunday morning.

The bar was set at a height I could not reach, resulting in pressure. Pressure to control the behavior. Pressure to contain what could not be contained.

I have been thinking about this a great deal lately.

Several clients this week found themselves in similar territory, tracing the patterns of early relationships forward into their present lives and, in more than a few cases, all the way into the saddle.

It is one of the quieter revelations in this work. The way we learn to relate to authority, to expectation, to the gap between what is asked and what is possible, does not stay in childhood. It travels with us.

It shows up in how we respond when our boss sets an impossible deadline. It shows up in how we feel when our partner needs something we do not know how to give. And it shows up, reliably and sometimes painfully, in our relationships with our trainers and how we ride.
When I reflect on my early years with horses, I can see it clearly now. I spent a great deal of time trying to control behavior that was not controllable. I set expectations that did not account for the nature of the horse in front of me, for their age, their experience, or their particular nervous system on that particular day.

When they could not reach the bar I set, I applied more pressure.

I was not being cruel. I was doing what had been modeled for me, in church pews and elsewhere. Control the uncontrollable. Contain what cannot be contained.

What I was inadvertently doing was recreating, in the arena, a dynamic I had first experienced as a small child.

Different players. Same script.

This is not an indictment of our well intentioned parents, nor is it a reason for self criticism. It is an invitation for curiosity.

The patterns we carry are not character flaws. They are strategies we developed to navigate a world that sometimes asked more of us than we could give. They made sense once. They may not make sense now.

The question worth sitting with, whether you are in the saddle or not, is this:
Whose expectations am I riding with today?

Are they mine?

Are they my horse’s?

Or do they belong to someone, or something, much further back down the road?

Your horse will tell you if you are willing to listen. They are remarkably honest about what is being asked of them, and whether it is something they can actually do. ~ Paul

I never really liked to teach. Well, not until recently.

Early on, I didn’t feel like I had much to offer, so I would overcompensate. I’d try to leave someone with a month’s worth of work in an hour, and none of it would stick. I would see an opportunity for change, then try to force that change to happen. In horses and in life, that doesn’t work, but it can be hard to remember when you’re green and lack faith in the process.

It’s been the long list of teachers in my life who have brought me to where I am today. They inspired me and sparked the excitement of sharing information, to the point where teaching has now become one of the most important parts of my daily life.

Each day, my assistant, Averi, and I spend a lot of time discussing the big picture, the process, and doing the work. Each week, I teach as many as six lessons to owners of horses in training, along with four or so more to those trailering in.

The joy I find these days is not in feeling like I know it all or needing to put what I do know onto others. What I love is being able to nurture relationships, plant seeds, and watch them grow over time.

Every day, I try to practice a beginner’s mind. I put pieces together for myself and study in the lab of daily life, applying what I’ve learned from teachers and books with the horses I get to work with each day.

When I teach, it is the joy of learning that I wish to spread. The love of horses. A sense of gratitude and awe for the life we are fortunate enough to live.

If I have been fortunate enough to cross your path, whether in the past, present, or future, know that this is my wish.

Take care and enjoy the ride.
~Justin