Equuality: Reflections on Life with Horses

Defining Success

About the Book

We may pass violets looking for roses. We may pass contentment looking for victory. -Bern Williams

I was asked recently how I define a successful day with my horse. I must admit, I found this apparently simple question to be very challenging to answer. I floundered around for a while, listing many of the ways I try not to define success, before finally coming to what I thought was a reasonable conclusion: that I tried to learn something every day I went to the barn.

The interviewer commented that, to her, the need to learn something new every single day seemed like a heavy burden to put on myself. The moment she said it, I saw that it was true. I realized that what I really want to be getting from my horse experiences is a feeling of contentment, of being happy with the day, no matter what the outcome was. I've been exposed to many different definitions for success in the equine world, and any that rely on one specific goal seem to breed angst at least as well as they foster happiness.

There are three definitions for success that seem to be widely adopted in equestrianism. Let's spend a moment looking at each of them and see where they take us.

The first is a definition that revolves around performance goals: we require a certain level of performance from the horse and ourselves to feel successful. On a training day, our criteria would be something like performing a movement or routine to a certain standard. The problem I find with this definition is that it has an extremely narrow scope, which means it doesn't allow much leeway for the issues of daily life. How do we feel successful on windy day when our horse can't settle into our tasks? Or when he has a bad trim and can't perform to standard?

On a show day, this modality has even more problems. We can become totally focused on goals that are externally defined. We care about whether we beat our rival, or whether we win our classes. What does it do to our relationship when we feel like our horse is not performing up to snuff? Or if we aren't happy with how we rode?

The second definition revolves around pleasure. Going on a trail ride, or maybe just a ride in the arena, and basing the success or failure of the day on how easy the horse is to ride or how much fun we have as the rider. Again, I find that this definition starts to become a burden when anything starts to go wrong. How do we feel if our horse spooks and bolts on the trail, ruining our ride? Or if he is too energetic or too lazy during our arena work?

A third common definition of success revolves around training. We focus on the horse's progress through whatever system we are using, each step on the training ladder represented by a daily goal. This seems like it might be a good definition until we consider that our horses are individuals, learning differently from each other depending on temperament, past experience, or mood on a particular day. Sometimes a horse will pick up the day's lesson straight off, and we will feel we are on top of the world. Other days, he will struggle, not understanding what we are asking or why it is important. Then how do we feel about ourselves and about our equine friend?

My focus on progress led to my defining a day's success by whether or not I learned. Interestingly, in doing so, I was choosing to put more pressure on myself than I considered right to put on the horse. "Must's," "have to's," and other vows, oaths, and declarations are big burdens. They create a ripe breeding ground for self-doubt and other negative emotions that can drag us down in a heavy spiral. In fact, it seems that any standard we set for success leaves us extremely vulnerable to stumbling down a judgmental path.

I would argue that we don't need set goals in order to progress. Transformation happens simply by showing up and being engaged. Setting tight goals for success predisposes us to negative reactions, to judging our experience. We seem best off if we can allow ourselves the freedom to take what comes and enjoy it in whatever way it presents. Letting go of our fixed criteria for success allows us to see the possibilities that are presented in every experience. To me, this seems to nourish contentment.