TFFG 19: Walk this way.
A couple summers ago, I went to a 2-day equine experiential learning retreat, which is a fancy way of saying: I went to a ranch to work with horses and figure some things out about myself. For one of the exercises, the instructor put me in a ring with Montana (the horse) and told me to get him to walk, then trot, then turn, then trot, then walk – all by using my voice and waving a lead line on the ground. Ummmm…you want me to what? The outpouring of sweat was instant.
I stepped into the ring and Montana barely turned his head. Clearly he wasn’t impressed with my Most Improved Horsewoman award I won at Black River Horse Camp when I was 10. I started swooshing the lead line on the ground and saying in the sweetest, friendliest, animal-loving voice: “Walk Montana! Walk Montana! Walk Montana!”
It wasn’t exactly a fast walk, but he did put one hoof in front of the other. Now I needed to get him to trot. So I started waving the lead line harder and ramping up my voice. “Trot, Montana! Trot, Montana! TROT, MONTANA!” Pretty much, he said nope and kept sauntering. I was out of breath and irritated and sweating through my t-shirt. I tried again, this time with what I thought was an authoritative edge to my voice, something that conveyed: I’m the human here and you need to listen to me.
Montana stopped walking all together.
The instructor came into the ring and asked me if this scenario reminded me of anything in my daily life. Without hesitation, I answered: “I feel like I’m trying to get my son to brush his teeth or put his toys away or pretty much do anything I need him to do.” The instructor nodded her head and said: “It doesn’t have to be a battle – you against the horse, you against your son. Find the joy.” And then she walked back out of the ring.
Okaaaayy. Find the joy? WTF? I was joyful! I was a great mom! My son was the problem! He won’t listen! I’m awesome! I’m Most Improved Horsewoman of the Year, Goddammit!
Oh. Wait. I am the problem. I’d turned everything – no matter how big or small – into a fight, a battle, a do-or-die situation that defined my ability as a parent and in turn me as a person.
Montana never did trot for more than a few seconds. And I definitely haven’t figured out the motivation thing with my son. So it’s not like this story has a Hollywood ending with me becoming an instant horse/child whisperer. But I just might be in the running for Most Improved Mom of the Year. Jury’s still out.
THIS WEEK’S FEEL-GOOD FINDS:
