Hello, my friend,

I want to share with you today a bit about the moment when awareness opens.

Last week Mancita, a recent addition to the Serenity Oaks herd, had a very difficult veterinary appointment.

Standing still was hard for her. Allowing people close to her body was even harder. She barged, pinned her ears, lifted a hind leg, and tried to keep space between herself and the pressure around her.

Those behaviors are often labeled “naughty.”

But what I saw was a horse who was overwhelmed.

So when I went out to the pasture a few days later, my goal wasn’t to catch her.

My goal was simply to notice.

When I walked toward her, Mancita moved away. I paused. When she stopped, I approached again slowly, asking with my body whether she was willing to let me come closer.

Eventually I reached her and began to scratch her shoulder. Within seconds she pinned her ears and swung her head. Her answer was clear: she wasn’t comfortable.

So I stepped away.

A few moments later I approached again. This time she reached forward and touched my hand with her nose. It was a small gesture, but it mattered. I was able to place the halter on and we took a few slow steps together.

Her head lifted. Her muzzle twitched. The muscles under her eye quivered.

So I stopped.

We stood quietly for a long time while she processed whatever was moving through her body.

Eventually she lowered her head just a fraction and licked. Then the tension returned for a moment, and we waited again.

After the last wave of tension passed, I quietly removed the halter and called it good for the day. There was nothing more to ask of her.

Later that afternoon visitors came out to meet the horses. Mancita stood at the edge of the group watching. When I walked toward her, she kept her ears forward and her attention on me. I reached out my hand and she touched it with her nose.

That small moment felt significant.

Not because I had trained anything.

But because something had shifted.

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Often the moment awareness opens is subtle.

A breath changes.

An eye softens.

Weight redistributes.

A pause appears where tension used to live.

These are easy things to miss if we are focused only on what we want the horse to do.

But when we slow down, our awareness widens.

And when our awareness widens, we begin to see the small changes that make partnership possible.

Sometimes the most meaningful progress with a horse isn’t movement at all.

Sometimes it is simply the moment when a horse decides it is safe enough to stay.

With heart,

Kim

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If this resonates and you’re interested in experimenting with expanding your awareness, you’re welcome to reply to this email.

The horses, donkeys, and I would love to help!