05/01/2026
There is something about horses that deserves to be said plainly, especially in a space like this where we are all trying to do right by them. Horses are inherently dangerous, not because they are bad, but because they are large, fast, and wired for survival in a way that can override everything else in a moment. Even a kind, well-educated horse can react in a way that puts us at risk if something feels unclear, uncomfortable, or unsafe to them.
Most of us try to manage that reality with the things we can control. We invest in good tack, we pay attention to footing, we wear helmets, and we make thoughtful decisions about where and when we ride. Those are all responsible choices, and they matter. Over time, though, I have come to believe that the most meaningful layer of safety does not come from what we put on ourselves or our horses. It comes from the quality of the relationship and the clarity of the communication we build with them.
Kaya has been my greatest teacher in this. She is a thoughtful mare who has always made it clear that her sense of peace is not something I can take for granted, especially under saddle. On the ground, she can feel steady and connected, but when I add the responsibility of riding, even small gaps in understanding or confidence can surface. Earlier in my journey, I might have tried to push through that. I might have told myself she just needed more exposure or that I needed to be more determined. I might have leaned on effort instead of awareness, focusing on getting the ride done instead of asking whether we were truly prepared for it.
Now, at 51, I see that approach differently. These days, I am much more interested in whether we are genuinely ready before I ever consider getting on. For me, that preparation comes down to three foundational qualities: connection, relaxation, and responsiveness, the Chore Behaviors of the How To Talk Horse program. If I do not have her attention in a meaningful way, then I do not really have her with me. If she is holding tension in her body or her mind, then whatever we do is sitting on a fragile foundation. If her responses feel delayed, resistant, or disconnected, then we are not having a clear conversation, and that matters more to me than completing any particular task.
Kaya has helped me become honest about that standard. There have been many days where the plan was to ride, and I chose not to, not because anything dramatic happened, but because something subtle felt off. Sometimes her focus drifts more than usual, or her body feels a little tight, or I notice that I have to work just a bit harder than I want to for a simple response. Those moments used to feel easy to overlook, especially when I was attached to the idea of riding, but now I treat them as valuable information that helps me make better decisions.
When I stay on the ground and take the time to work through those pieces, something shifts in a way that feels both physical and emotional. Her breathing changes, her body softens, and her attention becomes more intentional. Her responses begin to feel thoughtful rather than reactive, and there is a sense that she is participating in the interaction instead of simply managing it. That is the feeling I am looking for, and it has become far more important to me than whether I get on and ride.
Even when things begin to feel good, I no longer measure success by the act of riding. I pay much more attention to whether we can maintain connection, relaxation, and responsiveness together as the interaction evolves. I want to know if we can stay connected when something changes, if she can remain relaxed as I ask for a little more, and if her responsiveness continues to feel like a conversation rather than compliance. Those questions have reshaped how I think about safety in a very practical way.
I consider myself an average rider, and I mean that in an honest and grounded sense. I am not especially brave, and I am not especially athletic. Even if I were, I do not believe that relying on those traits is a good safety plan. Managing a situation after it begins to unravel is far less effective than preparing in a way that helps prevent it from unraveling in the first place. Kaya has required me to be more patient, more observant, and more willing to adjust my plans than I once was, and she has shown me that her willingness is directly tied to how well I prepare her and how carefully I listen.
When I get that right, the experience changes in a noticeable way. The ride feels like a natural extension of the conversation we already built on the ground, and there is a steadiness to it that makes everything feel simpler and more connected. When I get it wrong, that becomes clear as well, and that clarity has become one of the most valuable parts of my horsemanship because it gives me the opportunity to make better choices next time.
Safety, for me, is no longer about trying to eliminate risk, because that is not possible with horses. It is about reducing unnecessary risk by paying attention to the smallest signs before they become bigger ones, valuing the quality of the interaction over the completion of the task, and being willing to pause, step back, or change direction when something does not feel quite right. Connection, relaxation, and responsiveness are not optional ideals in that process; they are the foundation that everything else is built on, and Kaya continues to remind me of that every day. Linda’s Everyday Warmup gives us a clear guideline on how to do that!
When I honor those qualities, she meets me with thoughtfulness and willingness. When I overlook them, she lets me know just as clearly, and that kind of honesty is something I have learned to trust. In a world where there are no guarantees, that trust, built through careful preparation and a shared conversation, is the closest thing to safety I know how to create.
Coach Kristi
