This morning was the second-to-last, 45 minute, swimming class for my three kids. For just a day shy of two weeks, we have made the daily trek to the town pool for their lessons. Each day it has been an untold blessing to have 45 minutes of quiet. I have enjoyed sitting under the shade tree of the local park reading or watching long awaited Savvy Club DVD's on the portable player. Bliss!! Today I was told by my 7 year old son, in no uncertain terms, that I was NOT to watch horse videos and I must watch his entire lesson. From my vantage point at the top of the bleachers I had the perfect view of my son and all the other swimmers and their parents, grandparents and caregivers.
In the tot swim group located in the shallow end, one little fellow was having a bit of a rough time. Throughout his entire 30 minute class he had a long, low wailing, hiccuping type cry. For whatever the reason, on this day, he just was not enjoying his lesson and playtime with the instructor and other children. His mother along with the child's grandparents were sitting in front of me and I heard several comments about "how silly he was behaving" and "what is wrong with him - he never behaves like this!". After the lessons finished and the pool cleared of swimmers, I entered the family dressing room with my son and again heard that long, dry, wailing cry. The little boy's mother was quickly dressing him in his street clothes while glancing at the other parents with an embarrassed , apologetic look. Again as we walked through the parking lot and sat in the truck waiting for my older children to surface from the dressing rooms, that long, low cry was close in proximity. The little boy's mother and grandparents were standing around him starring at him as though he had suddenly turned a different colour, discussing why this normally quiet little fellow was having this meltdown. Finally, after much rolling of eyes and shrugging of shoulders, the mother got a soft look on her face, bent down and scooped him up. Immediately, his arms went about her neck, his eyes closed and .... he stopped crying. She rocked him back and forth and his face brightened and he looked peaceful and calm. A few minutes later when she set him down, he scampered off after his sister to check out the playground - everything right in his world again.
This scene hit home with me. At events with horses, how often do we ourselves witness others or say the words, "he never does this at home" or "why won't he just behave?". How often do we roll our eyes at each other in sympathy over our horse's behaviour? How often do we turn our back on a horse who is in distress over the situation or new environment with an attitude of "he'll get over it"?
Sometimes our horses need a hug. They need us to slow down and give them some time to gain strength and confidence from us. They need us to set aside the goal of participating in the event and put our principle of love, language and leadership first. They need us to not make excuses for them and just "be" in the moment with them to help them through it. Hugs can be defined in many ways - from simply removing them from the situation to a quieter location to soothing friendly game in all forms. After a pre-Parelli lifetime of growing up being told that hugs would spoil my horse, it is a relief to have the freedom to give my horse a hug when he needs it. And I do. Every so often it is a full out arms around his neck human hug. But every time, we walk away with my horse's expression just like that of the little boy at the swimming pool - calm and confident and running ahead looking for the next adventure! So the question remains - have you hugged your horse today??
