My fear of horses first kicked in (pardon the pun) when I was 13, after a girl in my class was killed in a terrible riding accident. She had been galloping across Hayes Common in Bromley, Kent, when her horse bolted into the road and they were both hit by a lorry.
When our form teacher announced the news, a strange kind of hysteria set in. It doesn’t take much to send teenage brains into flights of fantasy, so I conjured up dreadful images of her demise. She wasn’t a close friend but hers was the first human death I had to deal with. I blamed the horse rather than the rider, and from that moment on I believed that horses were dangerous, uncontrollable beasts to be avoided at all costs.
A couple of years later, I had a more direct equine experience when my friend Beverley and I were coming out of Stamford Bridge football ground, having just watched Chelsea win. We were rushed by a large group of fans, and I was pushed perilously close to an enormous police horse, which loomed above me. This did nothing to dissuade me from the belief that horses were threatening.
Fast forward to my early 30s, when I went on holiday to Mauritius with a horse-loving friend. She would go riding on the beach every day, often leaving me behind. One day I went with her, fully intending to sit on the beach, but she convinced me to mount a horse that would be led on a rein by an experienced rider. All I had to do was sit there and enjoy the view. Except I didn’t. I thought that this powerful creature underneath me might suddenly decide to bolt and I’d end up like my classmate. I held my breath and dismounted as soon as we reached the beach. Never again.
A chance to face my fear
After that there was no need for me to have anything to do with horses, so I didn’t. Until I was invited to join a group of colleagues at a stud farm near Leamington Spa for some horse-assisted leadership training. My first instinct was to decline – which I did, immediately. I thought no more of it until I met up with some of the team for the first time since the pandemic began. They wanted to know why I wasn’t coming along. I told them I was scared of horses. They said that was exactly why I should go, to overcome my fear. In the end, they talked me into it.
All was well until a few days before I was due to attend the training. It was in the middle of the fuel crisis, and I hadn’t had any luck with finding petrol. I’d also been asked to take a lateral flow test, and didn’t have a kit. It all started to feel difficult and complicated, and I didn’t really want to go anyway. I was on the verge of sending an apology when something shifted. I realised I was battling resistance, so I allowed the universe to give me a sign. I decided to drive to my nearest petrol station, and if fuel was readily available, that would be a sign that I should go. I only had to queue for 10 minutes to fill up, and then the sun came out – sign number two. So I decided to meet the horses with an open mind and heart.
I knew I wouldn’t have to actually mount a horse – it would be much more about being with the horses, and maybe leading one of them on a rein. Beyond that, I didn’t really know what would happen. What surprised me is that, once our brilliant facilitator Jude had talked us through all the safety precautions and introduced us to the horses (who were behind a fence in another field), telling us all about their characters and behaviour, I started to relax. They were suddenly animals with personalities rather than potentially dangerous creatures.
Jude invited us, in pairs, to introduce ourselves to one or two of the horses. One person would interact with a horse while the other held the space. When it was my turn, I approached Tiffin, who seemed more interested in eating the grass and moved away. By that point, Kalle, the only mare, had moved nearer, so Rona and I started to interact with her. She had such a stillness about her, such a strong protective, maternal energy that I immediately started to well up in her presence. Just being near Kalle brought up a wave of grief and I began to miss my mum again. I surprised myself by standing very close to her and stroking her neck – something I could never have imagined myself doing even a week before.
With Jude’s support, I teased out the gold, which was about unconditional love, support and acceptance – trusting that all of that juicy stuff is always there for me and I don’t have to work for it. That’s what Kalle taught me. I realised that horses are extremely sensitive animals and being in their presence can be revealing and healing. It can reveal what’s going on for you subconsciously as well as heal you emotionally.
There’s even some science to back this up. Research conducted by HeartMath discovered that the electromagnetic field projected by a horse’s heart is five times larger and stronger than a human’s and can directly influence the rhythm of your own heart. I came to understand that if you trust and feel safe around horses, they will feel safe and trust you. And if you are clear about what you want them to do, they will follow your lead. My fear had been preventing me from experiencing a very different side to an animal I had categorised as dangerous. Now that I had experienced horses as magnificent energetic beings that are exquisitely sensitive to human emotions and behaviour, it broke through some layers of armour around my heart.
From then on, I eagerly embraced the other exercises – leading a horse (Mr Blue) around the paddock, and “leading from the back” while Rona took the lead at the front. One of my colleagues told me later that Mr Blue had been curling his neck lovingly and protectively around me – and I hadn’t even noticed. That’s how relaxed I was by that point.
I’m not saying my fear of horses has been completely cured. I would still need to be around them in a carefully managed way, without any chance of them rearing up or acting in an unpredictable way. But I’m extremely grateful to Jude and her team for creating a space that was safe enough for me to interact with horses in a way that not only felt comfortable, but allowed me to learn so much about myself and my fears.
I understand why I’ve been afraid of horses since I was 13, but now that I’ve been able to let some of that fear go, I wonder which other fears I’ve been holding on to, maybe for just as long? I hope I get another chance to meet Kalle and Mr Blue, so they can teach me more about myself, my emotions, my behaviour and my style of leadership. As the saying goes, fear and love cannot occupy the same space at the same time. When the horses showed me love, my fear melted away. That was my equine epiphany.
For more information on Jude Jennison and her work with horses, click here. Thanks also to Jude for the photos.
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