A Moment of Discomfort
An Influence That Lasts in Your Absence?
To teach the thing that’s easiest, or to teach the thing that lasts the longest? They’re not always opposites, but they’re often not the same.
I yearn to learn not what gets me through the moment, but what’s going to last me a lifetime. What can I put in my toolkit for the next horse, the next rider?
When I’m teaching, I wish the same for my clients. I’d love if what was easiest was also what was best, and exactly what the rider wants. But often I have to be the one who pisses on their parade and helps them find what the horse needs most—most often, most urgently—to sustain them long term.
Of course, if it’s something that has been routinely missing, it’s going to be difficult, uncomfortable, and even nerve-making for the horse. That quiet neglect that led to the threads coming apart. The comfort of fixing minor rips and tears while the seams slowly split.
No one wants to feel uncomfortable, and believe it or not, I don’t relish being the truth bearer. But I have fought hard over the years in training to receive something that’s real and tangible—something I can systematically reapply in my own riding and teaching.
I’ve argued with trainers, poked and prodded at information, all so horses have an easier time.
It’s definitely not easy, but my mantra at times has to be: “A moment of discomfort rather than a lifetime of pain.”
That means swallowing all pride, taking a leap, and trusting the discomfort. Too often I see people living in the space of comfort, the fun bit, and quietly applying unhelpful work while breaking a horse’s confidence bit by bit. As a trainer, I’ve heard every excuse: not talented enough, too quirky, “Oh, I’m just having fun,” all leading to the patterned disintegration of horse after horse.
We talk about a rider having a type, when often it’s a rider creating a type through the same shallow, illogical training.
I spoke in a past blog about regrets with past horses. People were surprisingly stung. Probably because it’s one thing to never regret a horse, and another to embrace all the wrong things you did with it—and then, unknowingly, inflict them on the next one.
Rant aside, the solution is close. So frustratingly close that I’m always shocked when people lose trust. The solution literally begins the moment you embrace the discomfort and don’t turn away.
Sit in it. And just by doing something different, you can get that different outcome. It’s not blood, sweat, and tears. It’s one moment of not flinching away, followed by another, and then another. Until you realize that each uncomfortable moment gets a little easier to cope with.
And maybe that is what good teaching really is: Leaving someone with something that lasts long after you’re gone.
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