Equisentient Coaching

31/07/2025

31/07/2025

To the horse who’s lived through every version of me

“You stood by me before I knew who I was.
Before I had the timing, the feel, the understanding. Before I knew how to speak to you in a way that made sense to you, and long before I knew how to listen.

You felt every phase of me.
The eager beginner.
The perfectionist.
The one who tried too hard,
and the one who didn’t try hard enough.

You learned to interpret what I meant when I didn’t say it clearly. You held space for my missteps, and gave me the chance to rewrite the story each time I came back with more clarity, more kindness and more understanding.

You didn’t walk away when I was still learning how to show up.
You didn’t shut down or told me off
when I was still figuring out how to open up and find better ways. You offered grace when I hadn’t earned it.

You met me in the mess.
And you grew with me, anyway.

I softened and listened deeper, because of you. You taught me that softness isn’t a flaw. That a real reciprocal partnership doesn’t come from control, but from trust, built slowly, in the quiet moments when neither of us had anything to prove. And all the other lessons you tucked gently into the spaces between heartbeats, the ones I’m still uncovering, even now.

Some of these lessons didn’t finish teaching when the moment ended, they unfold over time, revealing more each time I return to them with new eyes.

You shaped the best parts of me and I will carry that gift for the rest of my life.

To the horse who walked beside me through every version of who I was, thank you. You didn’t just change my horsemanship skills,

You changed me”

-Julia Williamson, The Horse Center, 2025

31/07/2025

"In their eyes, we find solace and our troubles melt away; in their presence, we find sanctuary and our spirits soar"

31/07/2025

Just last week, the lovely buckskin mare, Bonnie, and her band stallion, Maverick, welcomed this little bundle of joy into their growing family. This is Bonnie's fifth foal and for the first time, it's believed to be a girl! The little ladies' brothers include Badger and Bon Jovi, who are still on the range, and Brumby and Bandero, who were removed in last year's roundup and now live with our friend, Sarah Gines.

No name for the little girl yet, but it's coming soon. And for those not familiar with Bonnie, her ears were frostbitten when she was a foal, but they don't seem to bother her at all.

www.wildatheartimages.com

31/07/2025

We The People…
are the only ones who can save our wild horses and burros by making our voices heard.

31/07/2025

https://www.facebook.com/story.php?story_fbid=1419552245816374&id=100032848371999&post_id=100032848371999_1419552245816374

It’s just a knock.”
“It’ll only be a few weeks.”
“We’ll be back at it in no time.”

…And then it’s not.

No one prepares you for the months of setbacks.
The rehab plans that feel like they rule your life.
The guilt of wondering if you could have done something differently.
Or the ache in your chest when you watch everyone else carry on while your world feels like it’s stood still.

Banksy’s injury changed everything.
Not just for him, but for me.
I didn’t realise how much of my identity had become tied up in riding, in training, in planning that next event.
And when it all paused — I felt lost.

Truth is: it’s okay to not be okay.
It’s okay to grieve the version of life you had before the injury.
To feel frustrated.
To feel like you’re letting people down.
To feel like you’re letting your horse down.

But also — it’s okay to take a breath.
To sit in the field.
To scratch that favourite spot on their neck.
To remind yourself that your worth isn’t measured in competition results or how many days you’ve “stuck to the plan.”

Banksy might be out of action.
But he’s still my best mate.
And we’re still a team — even in the quiet, invisible parts of the journey.

To anyone else riding the rollercoaster of horse injuries:
You’re not alone.
You’re doing your best.
And that is enough. 💙

30/07/2025

https://www.facebook.com/share/p/16fRj7tVxk/

🕰️🐎 "Time is Slipping Away" – by Darius Hulea
An awe-inspiring wire sculpture that captures both motion and emotion. Crafted entirely from twisted metal and raw imagination, this piece portrays a horse mid-gallop, its mane flowing like strands of time unraveling in the wind.
⠀
Darius Hulea masterfully blends strength and fragility, forging iron into something deeply poetic. A reminder that even the most powerful forms can feel the passage of time.

🔗

23/07/2025

One of the hardest things to learn about in hand work is focus on our own balance. I’ve learned so much about how I walk, when I lock my knees, when I rush or scramble, or when I tune out my body. I’ve learned a tremendous amount about moving in a better way for my back and knees, and because of years of serious in hand lessons, my body feels better than ever.

It gives me huge insight into how I aim to make the horses feel- rhythmic, balanced, light on their feet and able to go in any direction with ease. Soft bend in the knees, breathing deeply and focused.

It sounds simple, but learning to master your own body is far, far harder than getting a horse to do anything. People come to in hand hoping to learn to teach the horse something, but if you take it seriously, you find a world of lessons about yourself and your own balance opened up to you.

23/07/2025

If you're always racing to the next moment, what happens to the one you're in? Enjoy the ride! 🌷🗺️

23/07/2025

I wonder if we’ve made our conversations around focus too simplistic.

Yesterday, I had one of those serendipitous moments. I was musing on all different types of focus when someone in my group shared an experience that touched on the very ideas I was starting to question in my own mind.

As humans, I believe we’re designed to move between many different types of focus over relatively short periods. Yes, there are times when we offer singular attention to what’s in front of us, but we’re not built to stay there for long. To do so would make our vision narrow, and the process exhausting.

Between those moments of direct attention, we swing into soft focus. You might call it daydreaming. It’s the space where we take what we’ve been concentrating on and run it through the whitewash of our brain.

Reading a book is a good example. Truly absorbing what we read requires us to oscillate between focused engagement and soft reflection. I take in the words, and they spark thoughts and connections that relate to my own life.

Learning something new changes how I see. But that learning can only become meaningful when there's variation in how I focus. The two modes are co-dependent.

Yet we seem to have arrived at a place where, if we’re not fully anchored in the present- if we catch ourselves thinking about the past or the future- we interpret it as a failure of attention. And when it comes to working with our horses, we worry that this lapse in presence might make them feel unsafe.

But if I filter all of this through the lens of the nervous system, I arrive somewhere closer to this:

Maybe true “present focus” isn’t about conscious attention alone. Maybe it’s a full-body conversation.

If I’m not living in a state of fight or flight, my body rests in natural alertness. That state gives my mind the freedom to swing and oscillate.

My conscious awareness can zoom in when something novel catches my interest. And then, I might drift into daydream, not as a departure from presence, but essential function of focus itself.

In that space, the soft focus of a daydream doesn’t mean I’m not present.

My sensory nervous system is still attuned, feeling into the world, taking inventory, and alerting me if anything is truly unsafe.

We’ve reduced focus and attention to something purely cognitive and direct, and then we struggle and beat up on ourselves when our gaze and awareness won’t hold that intensity for long.

Maybe the real issue is this: we’re trying to define focus from the same nervous system state that’s experiencing the problem - from a place of fight or flight.

Maybe it's not so much a channeling of attention, but a whole shift of paradigm in what we understand being present to really be.

Some thoughts I'm playing with.

xx Jane