The Need to Act and Self-Regulation

Sometimes, I think the hardest thing for us humans is to resist the urge to interfere. Let me explain.

Today, Weto wasn’t quite himself. He seemed worried and a bit tense in the riding arena, which doesn’t happen often. I usually groom the horses in the arena while they’re at liberty, and Weto typically just stands there, enjoying the brushing. But today, he first looked around nervously, then walked over to the side of the arena closest to where the other horses were grazing in the field.

In the past, I would have tried to change his focus by using different techniques or exercises to either keep him with me or bring him back to me. And I felt that same impulse today. But I paused and asked myself, why do I feel the need to control what he does? It felt like an old habit, like a piece of clothing that no longer fits who I am today, but I’ve kept it anyway because it once served a purpose.

So, I decided to let go of that impulse. I hadn’t “worn” it in a while and probably won’t again. Why keep it and let it take up space?

Instead of trying to change Weto’s mind, I went to get my hoof tools and prepared for trimming. It was clear he wasn’t in the right frame of mind for training, and I wanted to do his hooves anyway. He stood in the corner of the arena, still focused on the horses in the pasture. For some reason, he felt insecure being alone today and wanted to rejoin the herd. I called over to him, “How about we work on your hooves?” He didn’t respond at first, still gazing at the others. So, I waited, thinking about the much-needed rain we’d had the night before, which had probably softened his rock-hard hooves.

After about five minutes, Weto came over to me. He stood next to the hoof stand and lifted one front leg, as if to say, “Okay, let’s do this.”

As I trimmed, I could feel him relaxing more and more. I trim at liberty, so he could have walked away at any time, but he didn’t. When I finished, he seemed calm and much more confident. It looked like standing around for 20 minutes, observing his surroundings, had helped him settle. We had a lovely short groundwork session afterward, during which he was soft and engaged, and then he calmly walked back to the field.

In the past, I would have tried to speed up the process and get him to reconnect with me sooner. But now I know that often doesn’t help. Horses need time to self-regulate, and when we interrupt that process, they can’t fully reset. As a result, they carry a residual tension with them. I’ve seen so many horses who are never allowed to think things through at their own pace or take as long as they need to observe something. They’re not even allowed to distance themselves from something they find scary. There’s a lot of talk about self-regulation, but it’s often us humans who prevent it in the first place.

I meet many horse people who get irritated when a horse wants to look at something a bit longer, takes time to think about an exercise, or gets agitated over a particular stimulus in the environment. It’s as if there’s a set period during which humans can manage to be patient, and they expect the horse to finish whatever they’re dealing with in that timeframe. The problem is, that timeframe is usually much shorter than what most horses need. In my case today, it was about 25 minutes. Who waits 25 minutes for their horse to let go of a thought? When a horse gets worried about something in the environment, our window of tolerance is also pretty limited. They’re allowed to be concerned about a loud tractor, but not about bushes moving in the wind. And we expect them to bounce back quickly. When we can’t identify what’s causing their worry, our patience seems to shrink even more.

I often hear comments like, “Here we go again,” or “There’s nothing there,” or “Everything’s more interesting than training.” We judge the horse and immediately demand their attention. It’s as if we take their actions personally when they don’t align with our plans, and we feel a strong need to correct their behavior.

A few years ago, I started waiting for my horses for as long as it took, just to see what would happen. I was surprised by how long I actually had to wait, and it made me realize that I’d been rushing my horses all along. When I talk to students about this, I often hear, “But then she’ll just stand there all day and do nothing.” First, that hasn’t been my experience, and second, this kind of thinking reveals our own judgment and lack of trust. We assume horses are lazy by nature. While they do conserve energy, I find that horses become more engaged when they’re allowed to take as much time as they need.

Waiting as long as it takes and resisting the urge to rush the process helps our horses self-regulate. And it helps us become more aware of our impatience. In the end, it might be us who need to learn better self-regulation, not the horses.