Category: The (almost kinda) Daily

I’ve taken some time off social media this last little while to have more time to devote to things behind the scenes, and one of the things that has been sharing my attention is my new puppy, Lupin.

Lupin and I have been having a fabulous time together playing with the clicker and just generally getting to know each other. Working from home means that she is with me most of the day, and we have been taking little windows here and there to train some basic behaviors and get some things established between us so that both humans and pups are happy!

Once I knew that we were going to be in each other’s lives for sure, like most people, I enrolled in a Diploma of Google Searching to update myself on everything puppy-related and took it upon myself to join some (what I hoped would be) relevant Facebook groups.

Well, what a slippery slope to puppy owner hell that was 😆 Had I not had some familiarity with horse groups on the internet, I may have lost the will to live, but experience there told me that if I were just to randomly google horse training videos without knowing whom I was watching, I would most likely poke my eyeballs out (and fear for my life), and similarly, if I invested in the advice of all the people on all of the Facebook threads I would have about the same amount of fun I would if I sat down and pulled the hairs on my arms one by one.

Turns out the dog world and the horse world share similar parallels. So, whilst I fought against thoughts of my inevitable demise and predictions how my dog would probably eat my children if not socialized well enough prior to 2 days old as predicted by the Google McDoggy Institute, I felt an overwhelming empathy for new peeps to the horse world and the quagmire they go through.

With that in mind, I put my head back on straight and did what I do with my horses. I…

• Had a call with a doggy expert to see how best to set things up for success from the get-go and asked questions on things I had found confusing over the course of my random searches
• Found a trainer online through recommendation that shared a similar ethos and used this as my reference point for tips
• Reminded myself that training principles whether horse, human or canine are transferable and went on my merry way

That aside, looking forward to getting back to normal programming this week!

Onwards,

❤️ Jane

At the start of the week, I had a little gigglesnort to myself that the most motivational mantra that I could come up with when dangling off the edge of a cliff (well, a heavily controlled climbing wall) was “control your amygdala”. Anyway, as it turns out, it’s not just me that finds this kind of neuroscientific inspirational quote both effective AND sexy (I may have just randomly added that last part- literally zero people said it was sexy) and I’ve had a few people message me saying that they are similarly talking to their amygdala’s when things start to get a bit exciting in the brain department during moments when it’s not all that helpful.

If we were to keep it raw and grassroots, let’s think about how we can actually converse with our amygdala(s) in both direct and indirect ways.

1. Relate to real-time information. Like, what’s directly in front of you. Not the conversation in your head or the what-ifs. What you are dealing with now. Whatever action you decide to take, base it on your present moment- not your future moments or past ones.
2. Don’t stay in your head too long. The brain and body can only make sense of things through taking action. If we overthink things or keep weighing up the different options without taking action, we are going to stay stuck. From a brain and body perspective, we need to make a choice, take action, and observe the consequences of that action. From there, we can make more adaptive decisions that allow us to be both more efficient, effective, and responsive.
3. Every moment is your chance to be completely new- but you have to drop the story. The story and the labels activate our flight-fight nervous system, and when we are in that place, we aren’t in learning mode- we’re just producing the same reactions that we did in the past. Focus on taking action and the next step in front of you. If the story seduces you, take your focus back to the next action step and the process you are literally going to run through with your body.

And when in doubt, grab a permanent marker and make a massively cool (and sexy) tattoo on your arm:

Control Your Amygdala.

You are so welcome.

Onwards.

❤️ Jane

Last week, I sat down and I made a list of all the things that I had to do that had been sitting on the backburner for a while. These things had found their way to the backburner list simply because of their lack of urgency. Sure, they needed to be done, but there were many (many) things in front of them that required my attention first, and consequently, they found themselves occupying a corner in the far recesses of my brain space.

And herein lies the catch. Whilst those pesky little critters might not be sitting in the forefront of my brain, they were still IN my brain, and I found myself wasting energy constantly reminding myself not to forget about them (there’s a paradox in there I know!). So, on Monday, I plonked myself at my desk and I caught up on all-the-things-wot-are-not-urgent-but-are-zapping-my-energy-with-their-existence. And I felt liberated! Like, there literally felt like there was more physical space in my head, such was my euphoria.

So this is a note to self as much as it is a note to you if you find yourself in similar circumstances:

Make time to catch up on the niggly bits. Over time, they become brain worms that take up much more space than they are owed.

Ain’t no-one got time for that.

Onwards.

❤️ Jane

This week I participated in/ watched a human dissection of the central nervous system. It’s the first time that I’ve been a part of anything like this and I wasn’t sure what to expect. For the first 90 minutes, the skull remained intact, but the spinal cord and pelvis were already exposed. When they started to remove the cranium in order to show the brain, I admit to being slightly wary about how I might respond.

Talking to my husband later on in the day, I could only describe the experience as spiritual. The body is amazing. I have literally no words to describe how incredible it is. I know that I have mentioned this before, but if you are ever beating up on yourself about how your body should look, or you wish that you were more this and more that, don’t look to the self-help guides for reassurance; look to science.

Read a bit about how the brain works, how signals are transported through your body. The myelin that wraps around the nerves, the incredible bony structure of the face and head. All the universes in our body that mobilise and allow us to be in life.

I’ve spent a good portion of my life twisting and contorting my body and wishing it was something different. But the more I truly study the body, the more reverence I have for it. It’s a world of normalized miracles.

Onwards.

❤️ Jane

It’s often interesting to observe what you have taught and then to observe what you think you have taught… but then realized that you really haven’t.

Let’s use contact as an example. Contact is another word that’s used a lot in a variety of different contexts.

Taking up a contact…

Fussy on the / good on the contact…

Improving the contact…

Contact, contact, contact. It’s a big conversation that incorporates lots of different elements, and what’s more, it’s something that you have to teach. Of late, Dee and I have gone back to the round pen so we can explore the finer elements of contact. At the moment, I have primarily been stopping him off my seat, but when I take him out and about, his forward nature + a tendency to distraction in foreign environments means that our “stop” button can be a little hit and miss. But when I really sat down with myself, I realized that I hadn’t really taught him a Plan B or a Plan C. Not in a way that gave us lots of options.

I got talking to my friend and uber horse person Katy Negranti, and we discussed how we ultimately want to have three options for the stop.

They are:

1. Stop off your seat
2. Stop off your voice
3. Stop off the rein

I noticed that Dee had some confusion mixed in with a bit of anxiety about the contact, that has come about I’m sure from a lack of experience in working with a true contact (I’ve taken the adage of using the reins for refinement and not control pretty seriously!) and me getting a little bit ahead of myself in my expectations. In our work together the last few days, I’ve made sure that I’m super clear what it is I’m asking. When we are in motion, my fingers are open to allow for both a guiding rein and a connection from back to front. When I close my fingers, we are dropping back a pace/stopping.

It’s a very subtle movement between an open and a closed rein, but they communicate different things. For me, I was expecting understanding before I had truly taught it- so taking it back a notch was the best way for us to get ahead.

Don’t be afraid to revisit the questions you are asking and make sure you have properly taught the answer. Without a clear channel of communication, we have nothing.

Onwards.

❤️ Jane

So, two facts about me that I don’t think are known outside my immediate family.

• I love rock climbing. Like, I love watching people do it. My most favourite documentaries are watching climbers free climb in places that take my breath away (and make me squirm in my chair at the same time).

Which makes the second point slightly odd in that:

• I really, really don’t like heights and potentially couldn’t think of anything much worse than being stranded on the side of a cliff. Especially without a rope. The only thing I could think of that would trump that would be deep-sea diving. Given those two choices, I would pick the cliff. This is a conversation for another day.

I don’t know what it is that enraptures me so much about climbing, especially given my personal aversion to some key elements associated with it. Maybe it’s the rawness of the experience. Even with company, it ultimately comes down to you and nature.

Maybe it’s the immensity. Seeing a human on a massive rock face helps me remember the natural order of things. I don’t know what it is. But I love it.
Swap scenes to yesterday and I was sitting in the kitchen with my two boys deciding what to do. Both boys wanted to go climbing at the indoor climbing wall, and I did a little internal groan. It’s basically a big, freezing warehouse and if you aren’t doing the activity yourself (I’m there as a support person for my littlest human, latching and unlatching him) the experience can be unappealing.

The other thing is that on the weekend, it’s usually rammed. You can’t hear yourself think. But on this day, for whatever reason, it was just us in this space of climbing walls and given the freedom, I turned to my boys and I said, I’m going to climb too.

Honestly, I didn’t think I would get much of a go at it. Potentially, this was my safety net. But then I saw my 5-year-old boy scaling the wall and failing, repetitively, about ¾ of the way up. At the bottom, he faced the wall and gave himself a pep talk. He looked seriously at the slab of faux rock, both fists in balls, and taking the position of a runner at the starting blocks said to himself out loud “Ninjas never give up”, before leaping back on the wall and scaling it again.

Given this, there was really little excuse I had. As the mother of a ninja, it seemed I must face my task. I didn’t have any trouble scaling the wall, but if I glanced down, the ol’vertigo comes into effect. I decided to let myself feel the fall and rappelled back down the wall, just to get a sense of what it was like.

Take two. There’s a moment that you face when you are afraid when you have a choice. You can either give in to what you are afraid of and abort mission, or you can take a moment. The beauty of this situation was that I knew I was safe. This was all a mind game. So when I felt the dizzy height fear, I paused and looked at the next smallest step on the wall. For those of you wondering what I said to myself, it was far less of a quote-worthy phrase than that of my child. I said to myself (and I kid you not- I may need to get out more and stop reading so many neuroscience boots), “control your amygdala, Jane!”. Slap that on a hat if you will.

But it worked. That little almond-shaped brain bit didn’t get the better of me. And despite having to actively talk myself through each time, I spent the morning indoor rock hopping with my boys. What’s more, to really show my amygdala who’s boss, we are entering the speed climbing competition at the end of August.

Because after all, ninjas never give up.

Onwards.

❤️ Jane

Intuition is a subject of particular fascination for me, and the more that I study and understand the nervous system, the more I realise that much of what we might consider as ESP, the 6th sense, or the special sensory power of some people is actually a natural part of a nervous system that is functioning in parasympathetic dominance; it’s just that most of us are so out of kilter from a nervous system level and so trained into believing that we can think and analyse our way through everything with the conscious brain alone that when we have an intuitive experience (or hear about someone else having one), we consider it to be almost supernatural.

The reality is, however, that our intuition is an intrinsic part of our individual and collective humanity. The reticular activating system for instance (and don’t get me started on this incredible brain part- it will literally and metaphorically blow your mind) is capable of processing 2 billion bits of sensory information per second. 2 billion! Per second!

If we move away from the labels, the stories, and the mental models that are a function of our sympathetic system, imagine how much more info would make it through to our cerebral cortex. That’s the place of the parasympathetic- we are open, receptive. We are here now, and we are listening.

And from that place, all of us truly do have superpowers.

Onwards.

❤️ Jane

While we are hot on the topic of motor responses this week, let’s talk about the term “muscle memory”; it’s one that we hear a lot about, but I’m not sure many of us have a true appreciation for what it is we are referring to when we speak of muscle memory. The memory that we are actually speaking of is the neurological patterning the enervates the muscle itself, and the origin of this patterning (or reflex) begins in the brain.

Skills and “muscle memory” can be learned while the system is parasympathetic or sympathetic, but the way that learning occurs and the consequences on the body are very different. Parasympathetic learning is an integrative experience involving the entire brain. Most of our brain is dedicated to sensory and motor areas and it is these areas that speak and converse with each other when we are in a parasympathetic learning mode. In this space, learning feels easier, and the information is more easily retained because of, again, the integration occurring at all levels.

The other side bonus is that the body itself works in a way that is sustainable and promotes longevity with parasympathetic patterns, as the structure of my body remains open and my muscles are contracting homeostatically, as opposed to concentrically and eccentrically in sympathetic.

We can still learn while our sympathetic nervous system is active, but this learning is rote and repetitive. In order for us to “remember” our learning in sympathetic mode, there has to be a lot of repetition; we need to do it over and over.

What’s more, a body learning and performing in sympathetic has a limited shelf life. Think of a horse trained to the highest level; the horse trained from a place of parasympathetic dominance will remain sound and healthy (provided there are no external injuries and accidents) and the sympathetic horse will break down from the inside. They are the ones with the constant pulls, strains, and niggles.

It’s the same for humans.

Onwards. Fascinating huh?

❤️ Jane

When it comes to biomechanics and alignment, the conversations centre around structure and functional optimization, but very rarely does that same conversation include references to the nervous system or the brain- they are treated as very separate entities.

The truth of it is that the brain is ultimately deciding where and how the body should be positioned at each and every moment in time. The entire structure of my body changes from parasympathetic to sympathetic; as soon as my fight-flight nervous system is activated, everything moves to support that.

My bones articulate differently and my spinal alignment changes to support maximal loading and acceleration. My organs shift to one side; the fascia dehydrates with the presence of cortisol and adrenalin and the tubes of my body begin to close. Everything compresses and shifts towards the midline.

The decision to move the body in this way is the domain of the unconscious brain; it’s a response to a perceived lack of safety in the environment. This sympathetic activation works for short-term bursts… but what happens when we are “stuck” in the sympathetic channel, or are sympathetically dominant? Then we experience the physical degradation and immune responses associated with this overall compression and dehydration.

So many cues and instructions I see given to riders are attempting to correct a sympathetic structure through conscious adjustment. And I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but it’s wildly ineffective. Until your nervous system is adjustable and your unconscious brain has more info to go on, you are going to be fighting against yourself.

What’s more, we are often cued for structural positions that activate the fight/flight nervous system. Tucking the tail? That activates your fight/flight response. It’s what we do as part of the flee response. It’s just the physiological reality.

There’s nothing more effective for your alignment in the saddle than getting your nervous system in order. Until you do so, you are slapping band-aids on.

Onwards.

❤️ Jane

Yesterday, we talked about mental models and maps, and I briefly mentioned how they were a function of our sympathetic nervous system. I thought we could expand on that briefly now. But before we get into that, let’s have a quick squiz at our brain.

My brain sends out motor patterns that are dependent on the sensory data (or lack of it) that is coming in. The two options that it has are:

a) Patterned responses (the parasympathetic nervous system)
b) Reflexive responses (the sympathetic nervous system)

Patterned responses require that I am taking the sensory information and making new decisions on what it means from moment to moment, based on the reality of my situation. It means that I am responding in a way that’s true to the moment, and able to be adaptive and in sync as a result.

Reflexive responses are my brain’s way of staying efficient. In essence, when we feel that we “know” about something- we have a story about it, a label for it, a diagnosis of some form- our brain decides it doesn’t have to put any leg work into making sense of it and sends out the reflex in line with that thought.

It’s genius. Until it’s not.

The problem is that our stories and labels are often wildly subjective and do not represent the truth of the moment. So, whilst the mental models and labels that we attach to different situations CAN be useful, they are also what get us stuck in groundhog-day situations where we are chasing our own tails. We are no longer assessing the moment for what it is but instead likening it in our mind to something that came before and sending out the same response for that.

Your labels and stories are SO powerful. Not just as a form of pop psychology, but as a neurobiological, physiological reality. They shape how you respond. Take care with them.

Onwards.

❤️ Jane

The ol’ “too much of a good thing” comes into effect in so many ways, and often well outside the parameters that we expect. Take planning and goal setting for instance. One of the bonus points we received for being human was our ability to take present moment information and use it to make future decisions. This super-power is what allows us to be creative and strategic beings, as well as being a key element in our survival as a whole. But while planning is a very useful skill, sticking doggedly to a set plan can blinker us to the reality of our present moment and cause our unraveling in both minor and major ways.

Think of it this way: as we move through life, we are endlessly constructing mental models and maps that allow us to navigate our day-to-day with a sense of ease and certainty. They form a part of our unconscious programming, a way that the brain maximizes our efficiency. After all, we don’t want to have to be making the same decisions day in and day out when we can form our model and map and use that to draw our information from.

A plan is a form of a mental model (mental models incidentally are part of the function of our sympathetic nervous system, but more on that tomorrow); we have formulated the lay of the land in our mind’s eye and now we only need to take action to follow through.

And herein lies the hitch: This strategy works for as long as our mental model and reality coincide. When they don’t, we have a serious problem on our hands. That is when we try to match our mental model to our circumstances and ignore the signs and signals of things that are telling us to pay attention. We are no longer in the moment; we are instead seduced by the model in our minds.

Studies have shown that failures of survival by seriously experienced people faced with potentially life-threatening situations- lost in the wilderness for example- have come about through those same people supplanting a mental model on situations that the reality is out of sync with. We may not be in the same danger day to day with our horses, but it’s easy to get ourselves into a sticky spot by rigidly following a plan or ignoring what your horse is telling you because you have formed a fixed opinion about them and their range of behaviors. It’s this sort of complacency and lack of attention that leads to the “out of the blue” moments; accidents that come from following a plan that is out of sync with the moment.

Have your plan, but hold it loosely in your hands. Pay attention to what’s in front of you and have the information you gain from that inform where you take things from moment to moment.

Onwards.

❤️ Jane

How will you know if you’ve succeeded if you don’t know what it feels like to fail? The very definition of learning for the brain is repetitious failure. That’s how we learn anything, by figuring out if we’re closer to our intention, or further away from it.

So every time you fail, you’re getting closer. So don’t avoid it. Embrace it. And step closer to your intention.

Onwards.

 Jane

On the final day of the clinic, Dee and I were merrily trotting around on a circle to the right. A little obstacle course had been set up earlier in the day, a line of rails and bollards, that were positioned a couple of meters from the wall. As we rode between the rails and the wall, something frightened Dee. He balked, spooked, and became temporarily fixated on something in front of him. He started rapidly backing up and in doing so, hit the rails behind him causing him to jump forward again.

From the position of the rider, all of this happened in slow motion.

I wonder what he’s looking at, I asked myself, which was quickly followed by:

I wonder how he’ll respond when he hits the rails?

Despite how all this sounds I consider this entire scenario a massive success.

Firstly, Dee had not one but two pressure points hit him in quick succession- whatever he was concerned about and backing into the rail- and he very quickly came back to me. He never “left” me for more than a couple of moments.

Secondly, the experience didn’t colour the rest of our ride; we both recovered and got on with life in the same way we had previously. A total win.

In saying that, the clinic had been run over 4 days, and this ride was in the afternoon of the last day. Dee and I had worked and ridden in the arena for a total of 7 sessions prior to this moment, and this session was the first one that I considered him to be relaxed and attentive. Consequently, when we hit a trouble spot, both of us were in a position to safely manage it and have it not be a big deal. Perhaps even a day earlier, that would not have been the case. Sure, we would have got through it, but it would no doubt have required me to be more “industrial” in my techniques than I am wanting to be.

The reason I share this is that many times, we ignore what is obvious to us at the start of a session and get ourselves in a sticky spot. We begin with a baseline of tension, meaning that if we do hit some trouble, the experience is magnified, especially in situations where we feel a certain pressure to perform.

It’s ok to take your time- even if that extends beyond what you consider to be socially acceptable. At the end of the day, you and your horse and the ones going home together. You are the ones showing up day after day for each other. So play the long game, and set yourself up for success.

Onwards.

❤️ Jane

I remember at one point walking around the indoor arena with Dee last week and realizing that I needed to bring the focus back to myself. Naturally, we need to pay attention to what our horses are doing, but in many instances (especially in situations where we are away from home or outside of our usual training environment) it becomes all about them- what they are reacting to, where their focus is, how they are behaving- and we forget to pay attention to how we are interacting and responding also.

In JoyRide of late, we’ve been having lots of discussions on brain mapping and how it is we can bring the body into a mode of parasympathetic dominance so that we are responding accurately to the moment, and not getting caught up in stories or labels that cause us to react reflexively (meaning that we have no option but to respond in similar ways to what we always have). I’ll be talking more on this later as I’m currently updating my program to include this work officially but having personally practiced these techniques for the last 12 months, I’ve found them to be a total game-changer.

So, as I walked around the arena with Dee at my side, I turned the spotlight back to myself. I observed the structure of my body- the position of my tongue, my shoulder blades, my tail bone- to gain more information about where my nervous system is sitting. How our bones are positioned is the most accurate indicator of whether we are in the midst of a flight/ fight response and learning to read your body in this way is enlightening and empowering.

From there, I focused on two points of awareness, giving my unconscious brain more information about the reality of my moment, and at the same time disengaging from the seduction of my emotional brain that loves to work with stories and labels.

This allowed me to feel clear, present and to ensure that my own nervous system wasn’t contributing to any dis-ease that my horse might have been experiencing.

Observing your own patterns and habits and dealing to those first is liberating in ways it’s hard to predict or describe. In doing so, we free ourselves from needing to control outside circumstances and situations and can instead channel that energy to more productive purposes- taking charge and care of ourselves.

Onwards.

❤️ Jane

Along with Nadia, Dee has also come back into full-time work, and it’s so exciting to be able to observe your progression in ways that might traditionally fall outside the box.

For example:

🌷 It used to be that if Dee had any significant amount of time off (and I would really judge this to be a number of days rather than weeks) I would reconcile myself to the fact that we would probably be on the ground for a day or two before we resumed ridden work. That’s not the case anymore. We can start with a little bit of ground-work and then we are away.

🌷 Our daily routines that included ridden work (sometimes I just work in hand) mostly always included a pre-flight check of at least a few minutes of groundwork. Again, something that’s no longer a pre-requisite. I can jump on and have an attentive, ready-to-go partner rather than need to establish things on the ground first.

🌷 Our canter work is coming together! This is something that I really haven’t rushed. At 17 +hh Dee took a while to grow into his body (I think he’s really only just starting to fill out!) and the progressing strengthening has been really important. I still don’t ask for him to sustain canter, but the transitions are getting better and when we come back to trot, it’s no longer as influenced as it was previously (he used to get a bit rushed in trot after a canter but he’s more relaxed within it now).

🌷 The other day riding, Dee did a ginormous spook, causing me to lose a stirrup and him to frolic for a couple of meters. It was fair play- a hawk lifted off from the side of the arena complete with something he captured and it gave us both a shock! The best part though was the fact that both of us immediately got back to it. No holding on. No avoiding that end of the arena, or anticipatory spooking (from either of us). It was a moment that passed and now it was done. Magic! This too is different from a few months back.

The hidden wins and the not-so-glamourous progressions! Such a clever pony.

Onwards.

❤️ Jane

It’s always interesting to listen to discussions around whether or not the different environments that we ride in are supportive or not. I’m thinking competitive environments specifically, but the sentiment also extends to clinics and barns.

There’s no doubt, unfortunately, that not everyone will have your best interests at heart.

There’s no doubt that not everyone, sadly, is going to be kind and supportive.

That’s a fact of life generally.

But it’s all too easy to map in a past experience and use it as the benchmark to colour all future expectations and evaluations.

So, whilst it’s true that not everyone will have your best interests at heart, there still remains a lot of people out there who will.

And while not everyone is going to be kind and supportive, it doesn’t mean that there aren’t people that are, immensely so.

We have to make sure that what we are contributing is supportive of the outcomes and experiences we ourselves are seeking.

Instead of looking out and thinking “how are they going to make it better for me?” we need to flip it around and think about how we are contributing on an individual level to what it is that we want to experience; to see ourselves as the causative agents.

Many of us complain about a lack of inclusivity and yet don’t practice being inclusive.

Many of us complain about gossip and yet see it as a harmless bit of fun when we do it ourselves.

For as long as we are waiting for someone else to make it better, we disempower ourselves to act as the creative force. We have to identify what it is we want to create and make movements towards that, rather than identifying what we don’t like and waiting for something or someone else to change.

Onwards.

❤️ Jane

Overthinking is the product of a system functioning from sympathetic mode. When we are in a place of sympathetic dominance, the parts of our brain that are fed the most blood and that remain online are the cognitive centers at the front, the reflexive motor center of the brain stem and the associative center that rests between both of those in the lower part of the brain.

What this means is that in sympathetic mode we are:

Only able to operate reflexively
Draw our present-day understandings from past associations
Are required to pull information forward into the cognitive part of our brain in order to make decisions
On the flip side, when we are functioning from a place of parasympathetic dominance, all parts of the brain are online and functioning, meaning that we are gathering information through all of our sensory systems and that, in turn, is motivating our motor responses. We are responding to real-time information as opposed to information that oriented in the past.

And what’s more, in a state of Parasympathetic dominance, information from our sensory and motor cortexes spits information forward into our conscious brain; in this place, information is revealed to us as opposed to us generating information that will be based on the lens through which we view the world and a whole lot of subjective analysis.

Parasympathetic dominance = information revealed to the conscious mind
Sympathetic dominance = cognitive center works overtime to make sense of things

Isn’t the brain amazing.

Onwards.

❤️ Jane

Last week, I shared some thoughts on empathy and how my understanding of survival patterns have made me more aware of my responses and how I might inadvertently feed into or support patterns that aren’t in the best interest of the rider (if you want to check that out, you can do so here). The resulting discussion was a lively and fascinating one, and I had a number of comments, PM’s and emails asking how I respond now to people when they are communicating their anxiety and fears to me.

I wrote the following in response to those queries and thought it might be useful to share here also.

First up, this is not a discussion in right or wrong, good or bad; it’s a discussion for awareness. So while the initial focus lay with how best to support someone else, let’s flip it and consider things from our side of the fence, rather than from the position of the person we are seeking to support.

Our response to other people’s needs is actually a result of our patterning rather than theirs. In the case of the example I talked about (and I mentioned anxiety specifically), in order for this type of survival patterning to be reinforced, it requires a dancing partner; the victim (although this is too strong of a word to use in reality; the pattern can be much more subtle than this and doesn’t necessarily fit what we would understand as “a victim” per se) requires the helper. They exist on the same plane and share the same dynamic; just as the “victim” seeks to get needs met through the enactment of a pattern, the helper responding is also a way to get needs met (perhaps to feel needed, useful, feel some sense of power), and often times, you will see this dynamic flip back and forth.

In that sense, helping feels good to us, but that help is expressed in very specific ways, through what we perceive to be an extension of empathy and validation. And that help feels good to the other person, because, again, needs are being met.

So then, as I continue on my journey, I start to become aware of my own patterns, my own ways that I seek my needs to be met (and I was very much a helper so don’t think I’m viewing this situation as an outsider), I start to develop a degree of neutrality to behavioral expressions; it’s not good or bad, it’s just their experience. The cycle of the victim (again, this word is really inadequate but we’ll use it for the sake of example) no longer triggers the helper in me because I have released that pattern from my own experience.

Am I empathetic? Yes. Does that make me immune to the suffering of others? Absolutely not. But now I am viewing things from a different vantage point. I understand the stories, labels, patterns as part of them expressing what feels true for them in this moment, and their experience isn’t playing out in my body in a way that provokes me to participate in that dynamic.

How we respond has to do with our needs, not the other persons. Our truth and the other person’s truth changes from moment to moment, based on our perception. So again, it comes back to awareness. None of this can be contrived or forced. There is nothing wrong with extending your understanding in whatever way you want, and the unconscious impulsion to respond how you see fit is what will lead and be picked up on regardless.

It’s just about observing our own patterns and the way those patterns play out, rather than labeling something as good or bad, right or wrong.

In a therapeutic/coaching relationship thing, I have a responsibility to take care of my own stuff. In my opinion, you have to care enough about the people you work with for that to be a priority. I have to do the work so that I’m aware of my own patterns first and foremost, so I am responding to them in as much as is possible, rather than myself.

Onwards.

❤️ Jane

Prior to this moment, I had just been tinkering away, doing my thing. Compared to my previous competition life (when even the slightest hint of competition sent my stomach churning and my head spinning) I was genuinely feeling good about the whole experience.

As I drove down the motorway towards the arena, however, I noticed a couple of things playing out in my body. My left shoulder suddenly felt really tight. I haven’t had tight shoulders in ages (although they used to be very much a feature).

My stomach moved into a familiar squirminess that I would previously have associated with nerves and anxiety.

Huh, I thought to myself. That’s so interesting.

My emotional brain has some strong associations with competition, honed through many years as I competitive rider. So, as I drove and felt a squirm, it would have been easy to fall into the story. It would have been easy to label that as “my anxiety” and for the labels to trigger my flight/fight brain, leaving me at the mercy of reflexive responses (the only ones available to us when our sympathetic nervous system is activated).

But instead, I just observed. These patterns, I reminded myself, are the motor patterns connected to thoughts that the old Jane held onto. There are a set of stories that obviously live in my left shoulder and another that triggers my gut.

All of our thoughts and emotions have corresponding motor patterns. Our brain can also map in sensation, meaning that as soon as we have a thought or bodily experience that we recognize as familiar in some way, it’s easy to set off the chain reaction of events that play out in our physical and emotional experience. We are designed this way for efficiency, but the system can go a little pear-shaped when our survival mechanisms are being triggered when they are really not needed.

Decoupling the emotional effect from the experience is multi-faceted but it begins by dropping the story. And by recognizing that the space and time you occupy can exist as a very separate one to the version of you that existed before.

Onwards.

❤️ Jane

Well, true to the plan, Nadia and I ventured out for our first Working Equitation Competition and much giggle snorting ensued! For those of you unfamiliar with Working Equitation, one of its objectives is to combine classical training principles with traditional horsemanship; it emphasizes harmony between horse and rider, and you are rewarded for the care and attention you pay to your horse’s mental and physical wellbeing as much as anything else. These values are part of what I love about it, as well as promoting really functional work for and with the horse.

There are three phases in a Working Equitation competition. The first is the dressage phase. The second is a course with obstacles, which are similar to what you might come across in a working situation with your horse (gates, bridges, etc) that are marked for ease of handling. And the third is a speed round of the same course.

For me, it ticks all the boxes, not only because I love that the horsemanship and partnership are part of the intrinsic values, but the purpose that the obstacles provide is an amazing way to fine-tune your training in a way that’s focused and purposeful. Plus, it’s super fun to boot.

So, the story begins with my initial enthusiasm at the entry form stage where I confused levels and inadvertently entered myself in a higher level than was originally intended. I only actually realized this when I received the course plan and noticed that we were required to canter between obstacles, side pass over the pole, and spear the ring at speed- the latter two we have never done together meaning that our first shot at it would be in the competition itself.

I admitted my error to Nadia, and we decided to just move into full frolic mode, enjoy ourselves, and pretend that Eye Of The Tiger was our theme song. Fist bump to that. Moving on.

The course itself was in the indoor arena about an hour away from me, and it was so beautifully set up. I am so grateful to the incredible humans that work to get these events off the ground (Verona and Pam I’m looking at you!) and the equally lovely people that were the judges and other riders. To be in an environment where everyone is so supportive and cheering each other on might be the 250th thing I love about this sport.

When I turn came, Nadia and I pressed the frolic button. Honestly, the fact that we were even here together is a massive achievement in and of itself (there was a time when her anxiety levels were such that I hadn’t ruled out the possibility that taking her out to comps and the likes wouldn’t be in her best interest) so being here, feeling like I could really just enjoy myself- that we could enjoy ourselves- made me (literally) grin from ear to ear. It didn’t matter how things went from that point because that in and of itself means so much to me.

Our softness and ease were nowhere near what we are capable of producing at home, but this in and of itself is part of the purpose of the outing. Nadia has a big engine and she loves to motor; our round required cantering for short bursts and then stopping and doing something measured and technical, and there were some things that we could do better than others. This type of precision has made me more aware of how I’m practicing at home and how I tend to go for long sweeping forward stretches, so I’ll start to mix this up.

One thing that really stood out to me was how important it was to pick your lines. I didn’t do a good job of this; the obstacles got most of my attention and then I wasn’t purposeful enough in deciding the track, which meant I had to turn her too sharply or limited her scope in someone, so that’s something I’m going to practice.

Trot is Nadia’s favourite “let’s leave them in our dust” pace, and I found that the combination of being out and about, being able to ride a precise line one-handed with the pole probably wasn’t going to happen, so I opted to walk this one. I gave it a shot in the speed round but I ended up looking like a window cleaner hanging off their harness trying to reach the tall bit in the corner, so I’m not sure I was a model for finesse right then!

Overall, we had a blast. I’m going to be squirreling away in my arena the next month until we go again and see if we can improve on where we left things.

And I do so love my girl. Her big hearted-ness floors me every time.

Red mares for the win.

Onwards.

❤️ Jane

Most of us humans have a pretty skewed relationship with bodily sensation. Depending on our experiences, labels, and stories, we categorise certain feelings in the body as negative and other feelings as positive. In most instances, this has very little to do with the reality of what that sensation is communicating, and everything to do with our perception of it.

Matters can be further complicated if we consider that the body moving into a sympathetic response and a parasympathetic response can create similar feeling state or sensation states in the body (side note: we don’t have a nerve that specifically translates a sense of feeling; what we feel is entirely subjected and based on past experiences and associations).

Sympathetic responses see our structure, organs, everything move towards the midline of the body. In Parasympathetic, things start to spread out, both along the horizontal and the vertical. In both instances, things physically shift, but the sensation that produces is simply an indication that something is changing; whether we label that experience positive or negative has nothing to do with the reality and everything to do with our perception.

Take pins and needles for instance. If I sit on my foot, after a while it gets sleepy. As I change position and move around, blood rushes back in. Structures that had been compressed, open. It feels awful, but I understand what’s happening and I have context for it. My body is changing, but the “pain” is a positive one. Without this understanding, it would be easy for panic to set in, but my feelings about the situation would not, in that instance, reflect the reality.

Our attachment and labeling of sensation affects our experience to a far greater extent than most of us realise. So much so that it can consume our lives.

Perceptions, stories, labels. They are powerful creatures. For the most part, 99 % construct, 1 % reality.

Onwards.

❤️ Jane

This is not necessarily a new discussion, but one that’s interesting to have, nonetheless. These days, it’s not uncommon to go to an event or competition and see ribbons or awards handed out to all participants. As a mother of two little boys, I fully appreciate the sentiment behind it, and there have been times in my life when I’ve had a tear-streaked little person on the end of my arm that I have been very grateful for it. Not to mention the tear-streaked adults!

The more I explore the idea- this concept of rewarding everyone regardless of result- the more I can see how connected it is to our overall cultural rejection of discomfort and how that feeds into some of the less than healthy ways we might seek to get our needs met.

Look at it this way:

If I reward you with a prize- a prize that you have been striving for regardless of whether you hit the mark that you hoped for, what I am actually doing is saying to you, I don’t think you are strong enough to cope with this disappointment, and what’s more I’m going to placate you by offering you this sweetener in its place.

It’s a precarious position to assume, and one that most likely feeds my own pattern- I feel uncomfortable with your discomfort so I’m going to try to take it away- and also takes the person on the receiving end out of their own agency; instead of empowering the person as the change-maker in their own experience (which comes with being able to personally change their experience and understand their actions as contributing to improvement and growth), we teach them that something is going to come from the outside to make them feel better.

I appreciate the arguments that will come in opposition to this, and the reasoning behind rewarding everyone for participation and involvement. But while it might create momentary feelings of ease for everyone involved, I wonder what long-term impacts it has on resilience, self-esteem, and the ability to look to yourself as the change agent in your experience.

Still musing.

Onwards.

❤️ Jane

Nadia and I cantered past the barrel with the long pieces of dowel sticking out that were doubling as makeshift garrochas. I reached my hand out and we sailed past without making contact.

Missed. I giggle snorted at my lack of ability and thanked Nadia for her efforts.

Back we go. We come in slightly hard and Nadia’s front knee clips the barrel. I ignore the crashing sound and fling my arm out enthusiastically, just in case it can make contact with the smooth pole. But no.

Missed again.

Nadia’s picking up speed now, her canter becoming more defined, more purposeful. We are both having fun even if we are getting it all horribly wrong, technically speaking.

We come around for the third time and this time we are close but no cigar. Now I can’t wipe the grin off my face and Nadia and I soar over the cavaletti in our path as though we are jumping a steeplechasing course with a herd of galloping hooves behind us.

On the fourth time around, something changes. While we were riding all those laps around the arena, my body had been at work. My brain had been mapping my arm, the pole, my horse, my arena.

My intention had mapped the pathway, and my constant execution and failure allowed it to update, adjust, make decisions about where I, we, needed to be in space to fulfill our objective.

And on the fourth try, success. We made contact. I grabbed the pole. It wasn’t graceful. But we cantered off to a full salute and the jets of the Royal Air Force overhead. Not really. But at least in our imagination.

Constant failure is not really so. It’s the necessary ingredient to hitting the target. It’s how you perceive it that determines whether the air is full of howls of laughter or the melancholy of depression.

I personally prefer the giggle snort route.

Onwards.

❤️ Jane

One of the fundamental shifts and changes I have made over the last 12 months has to do with my understanding of empathy. It used to be the case that if someone came to me and expressed their anxiety, frustration, fear, that I would respond by validating the hardship and the challenge, if only for a moment. The purpose of this was not contrived or forced, but rather a natural expression of care- I wanted whoever was in front of me to feel supported and understood.

These days, I’m much more deliberate and discerning about how I offer my support. Many of us have cultivated survival strategies that have sought to get our needs met in dysfunctional ways. If anxiety, for example, is part of your survival strategy, part of the way you are getting your needs met, I do little to serve you by reinforcing that.

I can listen. I can appreciate what you are saying. I can empathise by appreciating this is a challenging moment for you (which is separate to understanding the situation to be intrinsically challenging) without reinforcing the story and the pattern by investing too much in the behavior itself.

When a behavior is linked to a survival pattern, we make little progress by focusing specifically on that behavior. Part of this involves asking yourself, what part of this behavior serves me? How am I seeking to get my needs met in ways that perhaps aren’t healthy for me? What is my identity if I am asked to let this go?

All big questions. And ones you have to be ready to ask.

Onwards.

❤️ Jane

{This week, I asked my JoyRide members if they had any questions or thoughts they would like me to share in my daily posts. My musings this week are based on what they presented & the inspiration they provided.}

“I’ve been pondering of late how much I really dislike the society & culture we have created here in the west. Such a loss of authenticity, of real community, of being congruent with emotions. We’ve made such an individualistic society, people are walled up in their “castles” not brave enough to venture out for real connection with others, although I am sure there are many who want to. We’ve lost the art of being neighbours. I’m grateful for the Joyride group where we find so many of the things that society, in general, has lost. How do I navigate & be the kind of neighbour/person I would like society to be when it feels so uninterested & sometimes hostile out there.”

I’m going to start in a place that may seem unrelated & then we’re going to tie it back into the discussion:

One thing I’m always asking myself is, am I responding to the reality of my moment, or am I responding to a story or belief that I’ve developed?

For instance, if I do something that I would consider to be neighbourly (& probably the examples that I use here are going to be very cliché!); perhaps I invite them to do something together, take them something or reach out in some way. & in response to that interaction, I am met with genuine disinterest or disdain- then I can accurately assess that whatever it was that I offered wasn’t wanted in this particular moment by these particular people.

Conversely, I can sit inside & desire to make those same gestures but not actually do what it is I would like to do. & my inaction at this point is based on the story that what I have to offer is not wanted or will not be reciprocated. & when this is the case, I’m not responding to something in my reality; I’m responding to my perception of what I believe to be the case, which may be very far away from what is actually the case.

In many instances, we have become trapped in that latter because our life & circumstances are such that we aren’t required to get out & about; we don’t need each other, in a community sense, for our survival needs to be met. I can order my food online, I have a roof over my head, I can be warm & even entertained without ever needing to talk or rely on my neighbours. So the physiological necessity from a survival standpoint no longer exists, which makes it easy for me to become trapped in my head & feed the lack of connection; my actions become so limited that I don’t have the chance to prove myself wrong, or to go through the process of trial & error to find those people whom I might consider to be “my people”.

So the practice is taking action in the direction you want & basing your assessments on real-time interactions. Be the neighbour, community member you want & see where it leaves you. No doubt it will not all be roses, but at least what you are responding to is real & not constructed. & you can adjust, change & choose according to the feedback you get.

Onwards.

❤️ Jane

{This week, I asked my JoyRide members if they had any questions or thoughts they would like me to share in my daily posts. My musings this week are based on what they presented and the inspiration they provided.}

“How do we welcome stimulus/higher vibration energy/activity while we learn to “be in the now”. So many common teachings have been to seek calmness… but then we don’t get comfy with distractions, activity around us, even the energy of wind!

Along with that, how do we do what it takes to do our “being present with what’s present” without looking like or acting like we just checked out/spaced out (when we are not alone).”

An interesting thing to think about is that as human beings, we thrive on sensory input. The more sensory information we have, the better. We have developed some interesting terminology that inaccurately represents the truth of our reality. “Down-Regulation” is a great example of this. We typically use that term to describe a movement from sympathetic activation to parasympathetic, but we’ve also coupled it together with our perception of calmness and relaxation; a greater sense of stillness if you like.

The irony is that when we are functioning from a mode of parasympathetic dominance, we are anything but still. Our valves are pumping, our structure is moving and occupying its full range of space on the transverse plane; our organs are shifting; blood, fluids, fascia are all sliding and active. It’s a full-on party in there. Conversely, in sympathetic, the activity of our inner world, physiologically speaking, becomes much less. Fascia dehydrates, the bones, organs move and lockdown around the midline of the body. We have less sensory information coming in, much less activity on the whole.

My work and priority, if I can frame it that way, is to develop responsiveness- accurate responsiveness to the reality of my present moment- rather than calm. Calm is one aspect of my experience but to aim solely for “calm” means I am attaching myself to a pre-conceived ideal that has nothing to do with what is happening to me right now. If my aim is to transcend the moment, to transcend my body, then perhaps it’s more useful to you. But if it’s to be in life, to be in your body, then the expectation of consistent calm is one that will do little to serve you.

Much of what we define as a distraction is just life happening around us; the distraction then becomes anything that exists outside of what I’ve decided I want to do in this moment. If I am truly with the moment, distraction doesn’t really exist; it’s just part of what the moment is showing me and then I can choose how I want to respond to that.

Being with the moment is a surrender to full aliveness. If I feel like I am looking spaced out or checked out in my practice of that, it’s most likely because I have attached the idea of being present with not only physical stillness but inactivity. We have lots of cultural models and teachings that support this; where static states of being, such as some forms of meditation, are shown as the models to subscribe to and so we develop singular ideas and representations of what “calm” looks like. To be present is to be engaged; in the moment, conversation, activity. It’s to be responding to the reality of my moment, rather than the stories or ideas of future or past moments, and responding to those.

Then wind, “distractions”, flurry and bustle… they aren’t good or bad; they aren’t detracting or adding to my mission; they are just what exists in this moment and the aim is to develop the robustness to be in sync with that without feeling destabilized or diminished.

Onwards.

❤️ Jane

Nadia and I have decided to enter a local winter series for Working Equitation that’s coming up in a couple of weeks. At first, I ummed and ahhed about it- she’s had the best part of two months off and I didn’t want to compromise her emotionally or physically by jumping into something too soon. After scanning what was required, though, and matching that up against the fact she’s feeling good, I’ve decided that we are up to task to give it a shot. So down our names have gone on the form and off we will trot at the beginning of May.

Filling out the entry form, I realized it’s been a good while since I’ve done anything with a competitive focus. Years even. For the last little while I’ve had pretty much young everything- young horses, young kids, a young business- and competition has fallen off my radar as not only something that was possible for me in those moments but if I’m truthful, not something that I’ve been all that interested in.

Growing up, competing was a massive part of my life. I don’t think I gave much thought to riding without there being a competitive element. It was just, well, what we did. We loved our horses, we trained, we rode and we competed. I didn’t think much beyond that.

But I felt it. I felt the competition in my bones. I loved it- but I felt the pressure.

Looking back, I’m not sure where the pressure came from. From myself, mostly. From the perfectionistic, people-pleasing streak that thrives when there are marks to be gained, boxes to be ticked, outcomes to achieve. I think, at the base of it, that’s what we are really wanting to win.

So, I’ve noticed… as I’ve dealt with myself. As I’ve looked myself in the eye far away from the competitive arena, I can come back different. I’m not interested in anybody’s boxes. The mark is neither here nor there. I understand now that the pressure is not inherent to the competition. It is not a given. The pressure lies solely and completely in my interpretation of what I’m there for.

And that truth is to enjoy my horse. And possibly also to wear that new jacket that’s been sitting in my wardrobe since last year.

Because why not.

Onwards.

❤️ Jane