Equine Assisted Psychotherapy & Coaching

My intrigue, fascination, and fondness for equines began around the age of 8.  I started out riding donkeys around our rural Alaskan neighborhood, showing in 4H shows, eventually barrel racing, jumping, and riding on the beach. I consistently rode at least 15 different horses at various times in my life, each which had a message to teach me. One particular horse had a lasting impression on me, impacting the way I engage with horses, and the connection I find with them. 

When I was 12 years old, there was an opportunity to participate in an after school program riding and caring for 4 horses.  I joined with my friend and dove head first into a love of horses.  The sweet smell of grass, their breath, the touch of their muzzle and warmth of their coat in the sun, brought a sense of wonder and awe.  I was driven with a sense of purpose (to ride) and a sense of fear (not to get seriously injured). 

I rode all of the horses, but at some point Dancer became my horse. No one else rode him, no one else could. Considered a bit on the dangerous side because he was green broke, Dancer wore a red ribbon in his tail during any public sessions. This signified to other riders that he might buck, kick, rear, or simply put--be out of control. For 3-4 years, we shared a connection that only deepened with time. 

In between the barn and the arena where we practiced riding was a field.  During the spring the dancing buttercups would cover the field. As a kid, the field appeared so large and vast that anything could happen. We had to ride our horses through the field to the arena for our lesson.  These horses were known to be barn sour and want to head back, take off and run towards the arena, or have other absurd behaviors. 

Instead of teaching me to fear Dancer, my instructor Heather taught me how to fearlessly ride him. She taught me to listen to him and to myself, to feel his movements, recognize his behaviors, and anticipate his reactions. Eventually he stopped kicking and bucking at everyone else, or maybe everyone else just got out of our way. Together we were strong and fearless, sharing our vulnerabilities with each other. 

Soon I was too old for the group, which meant Dancer and I had to part ways. In a bittersweet way we said goodbye, knowing that although I may have shaped his way of riding, he shaped me in my learning. I don’t know if I ever let go enough to truly find the deeper meaning of my connection with Dancer, but I do know that he is an inspiration and a guide for me today.  As I unlearn the modalities of power and control within a horse and human relationship, I sit with the idea of vulnerability and connectedness.

When I imagine a safe space in my mindfulness journeys, I remember the feeling of galloping with Dancer through the field of buttercups.  I feel weightless, like I am floating.  He is holding me, supporting me, guiding me. There is freedom, ease, and authenticity. 

~Cimena 

*Photo by Roy Hamson