Under all the words people use, under all the appearance, status, clothes, makeup, power moves and power plays, there is this constant subtext of energy. I think we’re pretty good at picking up on it when it’s sexual, especially in movies, with a soundtrack to help us gather hints. However wouldn’t it be nice to have language that sharpened awareness of why sometimes we feel ourselves pulling back from “kindness?” Or coming forward towards “danger?”

I love working with horses when I have the luxury of remembering that to them, that’s pretty much all there is. They read me, they try to respond to the energy I’m giving off, and then they are almost comically confused (except it’s not funny if I get mad) when my cues are at odds with what I was clearly “saying” to them.

I’ve really worked hard, and will continue to work hard, at reading, or at least guessing, at my own “state of affairs.” Other people can read me pretty well, but I have this lamentable track record of ignoring what is pretty obvious to all the creatures - 2 and 4 legged - around me, and continuing to let my Mind just yell out her abstract and often irrelevant ideas and opinions.

Energy is very body-centred. It requires a physical presence, which of course is easier for animals (at least it seems that way) than us highly evolved walking Brains. Also, our Bodies play very nicely with our Hearts, thrumming along in a resonant way with how we really feel, even while those Minds of ours just keep on with agendas, plans, focused attention out there, and whatever else we can find to distract ourselves from ourselves.

I’m trying very hard to be clear, here. I want to say the equivalent of a simple descriptive phrase to Tundra, something like, “Hi. Stand still please so I can do this thing for you on your leg.”

However, the energy that is leaking off of me is mixed up with my future plans to get this task over with, and be on to the next 8 things I need to do. So there’s a confusing amount of oomph to my “please stand still.” I’m trying to recognize this, and ground it out of me, so to speak. If I want Tundra to stand still, then I need to agree, with my energy, as well.

So this game is all about me working to differentiate my drive energy, explicitly, from my draw energy, again explicitly, and also from my “stand still and soak” energy. Unfortunately as a human I tend to have blurry boundaries between those messages, based on my leaping into future Lynn territory. I need to stand still and soak once in a while, too.

Tundra learns quite well and I wish I could demonstrate more of the process that got us to this video, but this is a sample, and honestly, you wouldn’t find it very interesting as it was a lot of repetition of drive, then draw, then soak, then drive…I tried to base it (as you’ll see) on her part of the conversation. If she gives me a drive energy, I will respond in kind. Etc.

I want her to associate me coming towards her with a relaxed state, and the promise of some standing still together time. This means I need to give her that, of course, and stop rushing to the next thing. However, I’m getting better.

The other note I’d like to add here that I didn’t know as a younger person is that drive and draw and soak are all emotionally neutral. At least, that’s how I want to teach them. Driving is not me being angry, and drawing is not me being nice. They’re simply different directions of energy, which are useful in keeping me safe, keeping her safe, and allowing us to be together safely. Boundaries, in other words, make for nice partnerships.

I hesitate to draw obvious parallels to human forms of relating, but suffice it to say: we are usually drawing, driving or “soaking” in each other’s company, and it would be so much more relaxing if these directional flows were not paired with emotional outbursts, manipulative thefts, or coercive attachment styles. What if we just said, “please back up,” or “would you like to come closer?” or “can we just sit together quietly for a bit?”

I know. Dreaming here. But anyway, enjoy how it is to energetically communicate with an intelligent and energetic (and very nice-smelling, soft-feeling, happiness-inducing) being.

See you next Wednesday!

Sunday morning I was pushing the horses back into their pasture after the morning graze on our yard, and only half awake. And that’s of course when I noticed that Tundra had run into some sort of sharp object, and won, but lost a bit of her waterproof covering as a result. Of course it was the weekend and of course we had company coming and of course I was already quite tired from the week before…So. Horse ownership.

Anyway, I was able to have a vet come out to take a look and we attempted both intra-muscular and oral pain relief, neither of which went well. Tundra was not okay with a shot and not okay with anything going into her mouth either and I was unwilling to restrain her aggressively enough to make her okay. Not quite worth it. However she did happily take antibiotics mixed with oats, and less enthusiastically ingested some Bute (a horse NSAID) as well. So we’re good.

Our relationship is such that cold hosing is a just right challenge, and she is now a champ, standing still on a ground tie for this after not too much convincing. This one is non-negotiable. I’m continuing to work on her letting me play with, and even in, her mouth, and she’s really trying, but some tastes she seems to find quite noxious, and surprisingly, applesauce is one of them. At least for now. New = Bad.

I made a bunch of videos showing her trying out both applesauce and pumpkin and being quite ambivalent about both of them, but still clearly staying with me and thinking about it all. Might share those another day. However, then I made this video, about the drive and draw energy, which I have always found very intriguing, and I decided to go with this concept for this post.

I’m sharing this one today because it’s really relevant to how I’m going about this set of challenges. I’m determined to not work with her from the human-as-alpha mentality. It’s surprisingly tough to change my own wiring on this point, but once again I am so very glad, as I did not feel I betrayed her trust at all in the whole injury response, and now she is super cooperative and really trying to deal with my support, even offering to pick up that hind foot for me today, which surprised me. It’s so good to not interpret her responses as reflective of my ability to control her, but rather just…where she’s legitimately, honestly, at. And I can work to help her build her tolerances, but jumping over what was definitely a pretty big reluctance was not what I wanted to do, at least not unless I absolutely had to (which I didn’t).

So here…I want to have Tundra read not just my cues, but my energy, and intention and specific messaging from my body, as if I were a horse. This is, after all, how they communicate with each other. I’d rather try to speak her language with a strong accent, than solely rely on her learning mine. Of course we’re in this together, and we’re both learning each other, but it’s only fair, I think, to demonstrate effort!

So here I am specifically trying something I haven’t thought to do in such an isolated way, and I found it really fascinating both how well Tundra did understand me (although she was initially not sure a few times), and also how she seemed to need reassurance after some strong drive energy by me. I wonder how intense my language was in translation. Even though I’m using (from a human point of view) almost no movement or speech or cues of any discernible kind (apart from a couple of soft touches to reinforce), I think she found me to be quite stern (?).

See what you think.

As humans, we do pick up nonverbal signals and energy and all that somatic stuff quite well, but then we work terribly hard to override them! We know some people are untrustworthy, and instead of trusting that gut instinct, we often chastise ourselves for being “judgemental” or too sensitive, or something. We also, I think, find our gut impressions to be a little too invasive of privacy. There is an unspoken but very strong norm to take people at their word. This is all well and good until someone is talking with you and you know for sure that there is a whole lot “off” about the conversation. At this point, some of us almost shout our bodies down, and continue to behave in socially acceptable ways, to the eventual detriment of our own trust in our own selves. Our bodies do not like being betrayed like that, and often find other ways to communicate, if we refuse to listen in the moment, n’est-çe pas?

For reasons, I have spent a lot of quantity time with individuals with severe mental illnesses. One of the more refreshing aspects of being with someone who is extremely beleaguered by inner turmoil is that they have absolutely no room for social b******t. That just has to go. One needs to accept that brutal honesty is going to happen. Possibly poor interpretation of that honesty, but still.

It is in situations such as this, and also with people in severe pain or grief, that thinking about our body as a communicator of intention and either welcoming or pushing energy, is really helpful. Boundaries require a lot of drive, or pushing energy, to maintain, especially with insensitive or overwhelmed others. However, being able to turn that energy around, and welcome safe people or animals or even just sensations in, is crucial to keep one’s balance, in a day, or week, or lifetime.

In any case, just being aware of the flow of energy between individuals is very helpful in navigation. Sometimes feelings escalate and words become less meaningful than staying really grounded and aware of our own core, our own strong centre.

I love how Tundra’s expression was so thoughtful and questioning as she interacted with me in this way. It truly reminded me of when I’ve tried to speak French or German to people who are fluent. I’m not at all, in either language, but I love to try. The looks on the listeners’ faces are just like my horse. Hmm. I think I know what you’re attempting to say, but wow. Do I laugh? Correct you? Or just go with it?

She goes with it. Lovely horse.

I hesitate to say this, but you can try this exercise with people if you like. Say, in an elevator or shopping aisle. It all originates in your belly, and your breath. Feel free to experiment, and notice the responses (unconscious, physical, possibly very slight) in others around you. Notice how you feel. Is it more difficult for you to drive, or draw others in? Which way does energy flow more freely? Can you drain your intention down into the floor, grounding yourself in one position and becoming physically or energetically “neutral?”

Just things I like to try as I wander through my days. :)

Happy Wednesday. Here’s to healing in general.

If I could put my life into four words, they would be: “too much, too soon.” I normalized overwhelm at a young age, and just kept going with it, because normal was, you know, safer than the alternative.

Now, at 50-something, I am trying very hard to create a new normal, one that is truly safe, calm, and conducive to learning, rather than coping or surviving.

It’s so strange!

This video is such a good illustration of allowing my horse’s nervous system to adjust to a new event without going into that coping territory. Earlier this spring I was able to saddle Tundra with absolutely no issues. However, there was one day where the saddle blanket blew off, and Tundra became aware for the first time that this set of objects on her back could move to either side, or off her butt. This unsettled her enough that she has shown great reluctance for me to come near with these objects.

That’s fine! In fact, this is a good thing. To quote myself.

The actual truth is: saddles can go flying. Blankets move around all over the place for many reasons. I want Tundra to be okay with all the stuff that can happen with tack on her back. That means we start over at the beginning and help her either learn all the movements and choose to accept and adapt to them, or I “desensitize” her and ask her to ignore, numb, not feel, or detach from the sensations. What we call “bomb-proofing” can mean either of those things, and it’s an example of one of many contradictions in the horse world. Reflecting the human world, too.

I have coped with an astounding amount of “tack on my back” metaphorically. I have done so with a minimum of complaint or protest. This has not actually been a function of virtue on my part, despite it being read that way by me and many others. It has rather been me dissociating the heck out of life.

You can watch Tundra dissociate and come back several times on this video. I’m very much aware of this with her, and very much wanting to give her a different experience than I had.

Too much, too soon, means a lot of sacrifice in terms of authentic self-awareness, self-knowledge, and self-efficacy. You have to give up so much in terms of sensitivity to deal with overwhelming sensations, that learning becomes next to impossible. “Toughening anyone up” by asking them to ignore their feelings, numb their fear, and mentally escape from the situation so as to stay physically still - these are teaching strategies that come at a terrible cost. I’m positive many of you reading can relate.

What’s lost:

* deep sensory awareness in the present

* ability to grade and interpret fear or pain as a warning of damage or threat - in reality

* any ability to ask for: a slower pace, accommodations that would support better learning of new information, boundaries, a break, time to process, physiological needs…

* the ability to protect oneself from invasion and even assault (because the defence perimeter of the self is what is being systematically torn down)

* self-worth is intensely affected, because the self is being told to shut up and deal no matter what

* physical health is likely to be affected life long, because the messaging (discomfort, unmet needs, fatigue, pain) is being overridden in favour of obedience, stimulus response, and “taking it”

* the ability to determine one’s own perspective at all; because the one in charge is taking over at a neurological and physiological level, and demanding compliance rather than consent

So…I’m going about this whole process with a special attention to the ways that I stay present. I appreciate time to process (much, much more time than I ever thought I did - I could actually be an introvert!), many repetitions, friendly encouragement, some rewards for bravery, staying in relationship rather than moving into strictly task territory, and ending the lesson early rather than late.

I’m giving to Tundra, therefore, exactly the support I know I benefit the most from. And I hope you see her staying soft, staying open, staying with me, giving me progressively stronger “tries,” and definitely “talking” throughout. I love her whole body communication, and I’m really wanting to honour her speaking with a similar pace, tone, level of engagement, and priority on our overall trust in each other.

I couldn’t video much more than I did. Once I put the phone down, I was able to put the saddle on her several times in that same session. I kept hold of it, though, so she handled it for a couple seconds, then started to shy, and I was able to take it off so it didn’t go flying this time as it has on previous occasions. I know she needs to gain confidence that it will stay put, rather than banging her all over as she runs around the pen.

This will work out, eventually, and on a related note, I ended the session that day by loading her up in the trailer a couple times. Despite everything going on in my life, my horse and I are making little bits of progress in so many qualitative ways. Most importantly, Tundra is clearly loving being haltered and taken out of her horse herd by me, loving learning, and continuing to show curiosity, resilience, and joint engagement in the little games we are approaching together. Which is, process-wise, pretty much total success.

In caring for yourself, notice when you “deek out” of situations, mentally. I don’t think there are many of us humans these days who don’t dissociate here and there just to get through the immense stress loads we encounter or are asked to shoulder.

What supports you staying present? Who supports you, and how? Do you support others through difficult situations, and do you do this by helping them detach, or attach, in a healthy way, to a relationship lifeline?

So often we rely on our pets (or larger pets) to keep us grounded. But we can do this with/for each other as a human herd, as well. It is the opposite of dominant, competitive, coercive or intimidating tactics. It is usually also not fast. The process must be considered part of the progress, if we’re to keep ourselves encouraged.

Happy Wednesday. I hope today you can have a slow-mo conversation with someone who loves you and gets you and doesn’t need you to be tough in order to notice your value.

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I’m spiralling in closer and closer to the point of what I’m writing, which is, ironically, to find my heart. Who is deep in hiding, or at least has been for most of my life. And it’s hard to find a point to anything without my heart, because that’s her purpose! To tell me what I care about. To give me the why. To feel the feelings that make everything worth doing. And I’ve mostly exiled her, and prioritized my mind and body (in that order, for sure!), which has consequences.

So here I am, with my large-hearted companion, walking and talking it out. I know that I need to welcome my own heart. Doing so is very scary. What if…? So much could go wrong. And I’m - scratch that - I have been very comfortable with my mind as commander in chief, busily solving problems whether they are important or not. The dopamine comes with checking off lists, not from truly living my purpose out. Because how on earth do I have a purpose without a heart?

My horse and my dog are helping me with this, because they are offering connection - heart to heart. And as I explain, it is possible to train animals, and to do things with animals with one’s mind and body, and then that’s what they contribute back, but something is always missing.

I am on a self-chosen quest to find my heart, to coax her out of her cavern (where I locked her up years ago), and to acknowledge her strength as opposed to fearing her “weakness,” which of course is not really weakness, but large and scary feelings, that do not get me to the goals my mind and body crave reaching.

I am writing, most probably, to those of you who may have been overwhelmed, or frightened, or neglected, or abused, or who simply calculated that the cost of having a heart join the table was too great. I want to go back to being a full person. To being whole-hearted. And my horse and dog are helping me, because they are so whole-hearted. I am just working on my courage (Cowardly Lion…?) and trying to show up as fully as I can for their presence in my world.

Control and speed are drugs for me. Soft awareness, beauty, affection, truth and all the warm, gooey “love” feelings that can happen between me and another generous, brave creature? Those are so scary. But I’m slowly overcoming my mental and physical resistance to my heart’s opinions, and contributions.

I’m not offering horse training advice. I’m not trying to support you in mindfulness hacks or productivity tips. Quite the opposite. This Substack is for overachievers, overperformers, and over thinkers. It’s trying to find the little, possible steps to opening that inner vault where my heart has been waiting…patiently. So much tougher and stronger than I thought. So much wiser and more helpful than I imagined. She’s the crucial team member to provide the why to the what. The point to the how.

If that’s you as well, feel free to dive in to the archive and shadow my journey. As well, I’m going to keep working at this problem through the many angles I’ve got going on here - soul space, poetry, practical sensory strategies that work for me, team dynamics, animal connection and interaction, and even some traditional therapy. But it’s all about that missing team member we love to hate, but who is probably a cornerstone to any structure we want to build with our lives. Including authentic relationships with people, and animals, and most of all, with ourselves.

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Well, this walk is just fine as a podcast - not much to see, as I am with Kyrie, who unlike Tundra, is short, and often not in the frame.

I’m building on the ideas I’ve been developing in other posts - increasing safety for our own soul’s “team,” but also for the people and animals and maybe even our more “official” team members in work and public life. Facilitating a team member in flourishing, in emerging as the most generous, “best,” healthiest and therefore most productive version of their self is, in the long run, a better strategy than forcing, through controlling tactics. But, it is hard!!

I don’t know why our defaults run to the short sharp jerk on the lead rope, the leash, the levers we have available to us to try to manipulate results in the ways we want them to go. It’s hard to be on the receiving end of this sort of jarring, rushing, judgemental energy. Yet, I find myself reaching for that level of control time and again.

I am struck, learning to care for Kyrie, that she does so well if I go slow, give her time to process at her own speed, and pay attention to her needs for time doing things that fill her “cup,” even if her chosen replenishing activities aren’t the same as mine.

And that’s the trick, isn’t it? Reading another person’s preferred pace is almost the same as reading them. It’s something to try, anyway, with anyone you care about.

Including your own selves.

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This is the longest video I’ve posted and I’m sorry for that, but that’s the point actually. I’m spending quantity time with my horse here, and I’m doing so not with a goal in mind beyond spending time together.

I’ve cut out a lot of us just wandering around and focused on the connection points, but there are a lot of them, and at the end, oh my word! She is blissing out with me in a way I’ve not experienced before. I could get used to this caramel gooey affectionate sort of vibe (I really need to get used to soft emotions in general, so thank you, Tundra.)

In short, I’m playing with the way I am with an animal I have previously thought I must “lead” through various levels and intensities of control. Operant and classical conditioning, repetitive learning, desensitization and sensitization techniques, and generally imposing my plan on my horse, are all what I’m familiar and comfortable with. This video is me free-styling a way of relating that is much LESS comfortable, but I think it was worth the cognitive effort for the emotional and physical relaxation you can see from start to finish (in both of us!).

Heidi is my videographer and asks great questions!

I am very grateful to Deborah Marshall of Generation Farms for her mentorship and the training (virtual and in person) experiences that led to this massive shift in paradigms as regards leadership with an animal. The parallels for me as a woman and a person who has often functioned in hierarchical relationships are, well, pretty direct.

And of course, I do need to be the “leader” and take charge often of my horses, dogs, my own body, my team, etc, etc. at times. But how that feels when interspersed with relational “hangouts” like this one is very, very different.

I am so grateful to have the privilege of living with these creatures. They are so generous and warm and reflective of whatever we truly project. It’s a lovely way to learn about myself and yet also gain the benefit of their trust, wisdom and offered affection back.

This video is demonstrating how I see the different forms of regulation - external regulation, co-regulation, and self-regulation, in relating with my horse.

So first I need to acknowledge the wonderful mini-”clinic” I got this last week. My sister-in-law, Amber Block, was able to visit (along with my brother!) and she is a high-level eventer (the triathlon of the horse world - super crazy, but wow). Anyway, we were able to play with Tundra quite a bit and it was fun to see another person with some mad skills try the “next thing” with my horse. I have more content now! Thank you, Amber!!

Relating with another creature where we each have our own skills and balance and expertise and power is so incredibly growth-inducing. Yes, I could be the leader all the time and use Tundra’s submission to my will to show how great I am at controlling a beautiful and large animal. But…I don’t want to do that. Like, ever. Again.

The thing is (à la Untamed by Glennon Doyle again) I, too, am beautiful and powerful and can be tempting as a “controllable” resource for others. I get that feeling of being assessed as possibly useful to another ego’s agenda, which may desire to appear to others as having the ability to dominate me. I don’t like that feeling. It is the opposite of humanizing.

Tundra is not a human. Still, she is a sentient, unique, whole being. She is a horse, and as such (domesticated, owned, bred even) she has a whole raft of needs that I took on in buying her. I could relate with her as if she has her own perspective, her own ability to consent, and her own preferences and temperamental aptitudes. I could ask, and listen, and share, and ask her to listen to me, and we may not need to do so much telling and demanding as I previously thought.

Regulation in all its forms is built on safety. Safety comes first, for sure, and I’ve done a lot of that work (deworming, vaccinating, feeding, hoof trimming, and all the steps it took to work on the ground with her so we could start to trailer her and eventually ride with no fear or stress). After regulation, though, is the fun stuff. That’s where we use that lovely engaged state of “what’s next?” and curiosity and interest and energy to craft a Just Right Challenge. I am moving through Safety, Regulation, Engagement (which is a term that encompasses consent to do stuff together, on another person’s agenda) and from here we start the more relatable “training” tasks of setting up little learning games, and figuring out learning pace and style, and communicating with more and more precision both between me and her, and also with the surrounding environment. And it goes on from there (using my Safer Homes Spiral as my grid).

Meanwhile, I am working on myself as always. My tendency to hang on to the task of co-regulating another because I don’t trust them to do their own balancing, is a deep default. I can use this process with Tundra to loosen my grip on her emotional skills and let her grow them, because why not? She’s a lovely, un-traumatized, ready to learn horse. It’s a nice picture for me of how it can go when control and dominance techniques are replaced with conversation and trust and learning together. With both parties safe, secure, and consenting to each next step.

Horses are a mirror of so much when it comes to how we “tame” and “train” and “lead,” aren’t they? Enjoy this lovely day on video and go out and play with a puppy or horse or friend and analyze how you all regulate! It’s fun.

I really hope you can find a half hour to try to pay attention to each of your sensory systems in sequence. I did, and it was illuminating for me how difficult it was to shut down some channels so as to pay attention to everything coming in through one or two. It’s truly astounding what our brains are dealing with at any given moment.

I’ve spent almost my entire professional career using the sensory processing and sensory integration frame of reference as a way to break down challenges, decode puzzling behaviours, and create supportive environments for neurodiverse individuals. But when I think of how I personally experience the sensory world around me, especially when I’m trying to do something, I go back to a sensation of pure awe at the complexity we are all born with. Do not ever feel like you are no good at anything. You are doing so much just to be sitting still, upright, and managing to stay sane in the chaos of incoming information.

I had fun making this, trying it out, and I think I will use this process as a sensory strategy to organize myself when I start feeling a little “overloaded.” I find it is great at a walking pace, in a natural environment. It helps to not feel “observed” by other humans, but if you can’t find that kind of solitude, at least pick a long straight sidewalk with very few dangerous obstacles!

Happy Thursday. Enjoy your walk!

The video is just under 5 minutes, and the post is a 7 minute read.

Once again, this is me getting a bit more technical, so if that’s not your jam, feel free to skip this post. I really like this sort of thing. I think we can get all sorts of helpful information in non-judgey ways by thinking in sensory terms. Sensory-motor terms, I guess.

Anyway, as I’ve been thinking and writing about, the difference between being extremely goal-oriented, and paying attention to the process, can span chasms and gulfs. Honestly, this could be a topic for months.

And no, I don’t believe this is a binary discussion. They’re both crucial. Goals orient us to a direction, and with the level of complexity in our average days, we need them. But losing sight of incoming information in an attempt to hone in on those goals can turn us into the (solely) apex predators we probably don’t want to be. Because predatory mindsets are extremely focused. Very, very unconcerned about 360° of information in favour of the 1° of attention. This is extremely crucial for taking down the gazelle. Not so good for existing in a complex social herd, looking after your whole self, or getting more intelligent in the empathy department.

Watching an animal, or person, move through the world provides so much information about process and state, calibration of sensory information, and potentially why they are acting, behaving, or seemingly intending, or attending, as they are.

Tomorrow I’ll provide an audio walk “sensory sorter” for you to try. But today, just watch my two dogs and see if you see some of what I see, or maybe even more or different aspects to their physical, energetic, sensorimotor messaging.

And as a primer: here are some notes as to sensory “channels” that might be more or less open, shutting down or opening up, or being deliberately attended to or not for the purposes of down-regulating (which is what both dogs are doing in their own ways - coming down from an off-leash romp/walk in the forest, and heading home to breakfast).

* Vestibular: this channel is responsible for our registration of gravity, movement, head position in relation to gravity, acceleration, deceleration, spinning, falling, direction change, inverting…it is extremely tied to a sense of security, which is why we rock infants (rhythmically, slowly, predictably) and even rock ourselves when we feel overwhelming stress.

* Tactile: also a very deep sensory system, full of information coming through our skin, but split into our ability to register temperature, pressure, texture, distance between two point touches on our skin, movement (a tick??), and even pleasant or noxious touch. We rely on our tactile system to know where our skin ends and the world begins. When we are very vigilant, we can start to “feel” our body several cms out from the actual skin as we work to extend our tactile boundaries. This can be a very spooky sensation.

* Proprioceptive: this system is monitoring our joint position, muscle stretch and use, and deep pressure extending down into muscle fibres and ligaments, etc. Our proprioceptive system maps directly into our brain through a sensory and motor “homunculus” or representative body based on number of receptors in each body part. Our lips are exaggerated, while our back is tiny, for example, in this avatar of how we perceive our own physical self. The homunculus can be very precisely mapped for those of us who got enough rough and tumble play, such that every single joint and muscle was compressed, activated, stretched, and used in combination with others for enough repetitions that the brain “got it.” This is why a good massage, or a good weight workout, or a good wrestling match, or a good climb feel very satisfying in such a deep way. Traction, compression, deep pressure, and “heavy work” all push and pull on joints and muscle structures so that our brain can “check in” with each fibre’s position. Others of us who have been more sedentary (especially as children), have a much lower resolution image of our own positioning, especially during fast movement. Some of us tend to need to watch our feet a lot while walking on uneven ground (or maybe even ground that just looks uneven!).

* Smell/taste: These are also very emotionally tied sensory systems, relating as they do to food, water, the ability to detect toxins, poison, or bacteria, as well as to identify parents, lovers, or emotionally laden surroundings. Children put everything in their mouths, mostly for tactile input (the homunculus has a lot of receptors there), but also because smell and taste are so crucial for categorization in early life. Comfort food, anyone?

* Auditory: as yet another sensory system that is operational in the womb, our auditory awareness is remarkable in how it can relate to a feeling of safety or lack thereof. This is also a “distance sense” that allows us to have warning of threats before we are in dangerous proximity. Like all sensory channels, there are two pathways that sound can travel: a fast one when we think the sound is threatening, and a slower one when it is background, known and understood, or merely evoking curiosity.

* Visual: definitely our most preferred sensory channel for gaining information. Again, as predators, our eyes are situated so as to allow us both near and far focus with a pretty high degree of detail. We sacrifice field of view (horses, by contrast to our 170° field which includes peripheral vision, have 350° of sight all the time) but gain an exceptionally rich and detailed visual spectrum, with both rods and cones, noting movement, colour, contrast, light/dark, and shape. It is hard to overstate the effect of vision on our entire cognitive make-up, and the consequent loss for people who lose their vision, or are born without this highly organizing sensory marvel.

The last system I will list (because lists vary and continue to be refined in terms of our understanding of the complexities of our brain and body) is Interoception. This is a word that covers our awareness of what is going on “inside” our body. Needing to urinate, defecate, feeling hungry or thirsty, needing to adjust temperature, feeling our heart beating fast and loud, or feeling short of breath are all internal sensations that can vary in our awareness. And of course, we all know that somatic sensations such as these are pretty indicative of emotional states (also internal), and are, for some of us, all we have to go on. Panic attacks are a good example of a high alarm going off when softer cues have become indistinguishable from background “normal.” We can also feel a sense of “levitating,” or being “crushed,” or feeling “faint,” or “lost,” or the classic “butterflies in the stomach.” Our sensory channels seem to overlap here with our ability to tune in to our “gut” or our “heart” or our “sixth sense.”

That’s enough of that lecture! I could truly go on and on (as many OTs could). But one final note: all of these sensory systems are uniquely calibrated by genetics, nature, nurture, or our choice, to be highly sensitive, moderately sensitive, insensitive or even as close to turned off as we can manage. And not as a group, either! These modulation dials exist in each of us, separately, for each sensory channel.

Plus, we can mess with the dials. And some of us have dials that move together with other dials, either directly or inversely. It’s all very complicated.

Sensory integration, and sensory processing, are terms that are often thrown around as it relates to autism and the experience of neurodiversity with similar brain conditions. However, every single one of us is incredibly unique as to our use of our sensory systems. And our movements, to a great extent, show what we are trying to take in, block out, and/or simply dial up or down.

That is all I’ll say about that. But if you’re intrigued, do some people watching. Do some animal watching. Do what I do (often!) and try to copy someone’s way of moving and see what information becomes clearer, or dimmer. It’s so interesting!

But the take home is: maybe “behaviour” is a little more nuanced than simply “good” or “bad.” Maybe paying close attention to the way a person, or animal enacts a behaviour could tell us far more than simply noting that the behaviour happened (and then reinforcing it, positively or negatively). It’s worth the learning curve, in my opinion.

Process, baby, process. Waaay more interesting than the goal most days.

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Chores, in June, are a lovely thing. I’m not at all a morning person, and so I still don’t really feel grateful and full of the wonder of it all right away, but still…June is so much nicer than January. This year is cool, smoky, and therefore not yet buggy. I followed today’s chore routine with my workout routine which involved a nice long run, in absolutely perfect running weather. Not too hot, not too cold, not too windy! (for a change!), and although the smoke was there, it wasn’t so bad as to make breathing difficult. All in all, quite comfortable to do heavy work outside.

It’s a good day, in other words, to video the process, and think about the chores I could do with my own energetic “inner team.”

Horses, dogs, cats, birds, all are so physically present and communicative through their bodies, and sensory systems. We often forget our animal selves, and it’s too bad, because the lack of friction present in my ability to think about doing something, and to visualize it happening (flawlessly) is jarringly different from the extreme friction present when I decide to do the thing in the “real world.” This disconnect causes me to frequently underestimate the time, effort, and mistakes that will be required for me to complete what my mind considers an easy, inexpensive, short task.

And I know, because I’ve watched sports movies, that visualizing success is very important and counts as practice time to a certain extent. We do need to build neural pathways first, before we start to build muscle, when we are strength training. Both the mind and the body are important for doing something that improves our skill or capacity. But my point is, until I do the thing in real life, I really haven’t done the thing.

Even though the neural pathways are perhaps primed, the muscles and joints and skin and ligaments all still need the chance to adapt to weight, temperature, pressure, force. And this is my constant frustration, because in my inner team, my brain is like Eclipse - quick to take charge of all the resources. She doesn’t want to share. And like Tundra, she also doesn’t like other team members to receive attention.

In my horse herd, I am functioning (most days) as a herd leader. This is slightly different from human predatory models where the leader is the best, strongest, smartest, etc., etc. In a herd, passive leadership (a term coined by Mark Rashid) involves built up trust, wisdom, awareness, presence, and other hard to quantify definers that sometimes mean the horse that looks like it’s in charge is not the horse that the herd relies on in an emergency.

Leadership in a horse herd does not, therefore, require a lot of “dominance techniques.” It does require awareness of body language, and a confident approach to physical actions. It’s not enough to want to be liked. It is far more important to not lie.

I therefore spend time with the herd “overacting” so as to be more comfortable, and congruent, in my physical reality. I use big motions, not because they need them, but because I do. I am so prone to going off in my head, and imagining that the horses can read my mind, that I can dissociate from my body just like that. This is NOT good leadership and no horse in their right mind will appreciate it. Although my horses have definitely forgiven me, adapted to me, and tried hard in so many ways (in retrospect) to cue me as to my dangerous lapses in “being present,” it’s still not a way to gain their confidence.

I really want to get better at “horse language,” because it’s only fair that a horse learning many new tasks and skills should not also have to figure out how to speak human. I need to spend a lot of time, observing, trying to communicate, but also being humble about the results of my attempts. The horses communicate so fluidly and freely with each other (and you can see a lot of “talking” in this video). I am, by contrast, speaking in one or two word phrases, and with a strong accent. Oh well. They are very gracious creatures.

I’m going on and on about a favourite topic, and this is not necessarily exactly what you as the reader are interested in. Okay. Bringing it back.

Our inner teams can be thought of as a “herd,” with separate and very energetic herd members, all jockeying for resources. These can include food, toys, attention, freedom to move, and generally the ability to control everyone else in the area. Without a strong leadership presence, “breakfast” can break down into rather uncontrolled chaos, or maybe even violence.

Leadership in such a situation is not achieved through having the worst behaviour (yelling the loudest, hitting the most, or scaring everyone into submission). That may “work,” but at most, that individual has confirmed their untrustworthiness in the case of trouble. In fact, they are now most definitely going to be seen as a source of trouble.

I’m not going to belabour this point in this post. I just want to point out that I did not need to sedate, restrain, or scare any of the horses, to be safe while feeding them highly coveted meals, in the midst of distracting background events.

And I say this, because I used to need to do those things. In other words, I used to not be a leader, to be quite afraid of my herd, and to try to not get hurt in various ways that were not leadership, but were strategic, coercive, or duplicitous.

I still struggle with leading my inner team, my inner “herd,” in ways that are fair, calm, above-board, predictable, and kind. I often resort to bullying parts of me that I consider weak or pathetic (poor BlueJay is the heart of the herd in truth!). I steal resources from my body to fuel my brain on its crusades to do whatever it wants with no accountability to the laws of physics, whatsoever. I go away, leaving my herd defenceless and leaderless when I am overwhelmed and under-resourced.

All of these actions show a disregard for the language of my team. Also the inherent value of each member of my team. Until I respect them, as wise, sentient, powerful, capable, and friendly individuals, I will continually try to make myself feel safer by being bigger than them, thus trying to make them smaller than “me.” That’s just terrible.

What if our inner teams could be respected, understood, given space and time, fuelled appropriately, protected from the immaturity of each other, and genuinely loved for themselves? What if we could step up to lead our teams in their excited, pushy, shy, hungry, uneasy, tentative, hopeful, endearing states? What if we could build the skills and confidence to do this daily, in all weathers, even when the “ravens” are making a “ruckus?”

For sure, we would experience the world in a more balanced, fluid, adaptable, wide awake, aware, and energetic way, with far less fear.

I think that’s worth doing chores for! Even in January.

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