Last week, 16 people came together here at Leading Edge professional Development for five days of learning, experiencing, questioning, practising and growing.
But what stayed with me most wasn’t simply what we learned.
It was how everyone showed up.
For the first three days, our newest Equine Connection equine assisted learning facilitators had the opportunity to move from theory into experience – to step into the programs they had been studying and experience them for themselves.
Because there is a significant difference between understanding something intellectually and experiencing it in your body.
The horses have a remarkable way of making that distinction visible.
The final two days took us deeper, with advanced facilitator training focused on one of the most important – and sometimes confronting – aspects of this work: ourselves.
Our energy. Our intention. Our awareness. Our ability to regulate ourselves and remain present. The subtle ways we influence the horse in front of us – and, in turn, the people we are facilitating.
It requires a willingness to notice ourselves before looking to the horse for an explanation.
And that takes courage.
Across the five days, I watched people really show up. They stepped into the unfamiliar with openness, curiosity and vulnerability. They experimented. They made mistakes. They asked questions. They supported one another. They laughed. They reflected. And they were willing to challenge what they thought they knew.
For me, that is what genuine learning looks like.
We don’t grow in isolation
One of the greatest gifts of this work has been discovering a community of people who share similar core values, while remaining willing to question convention and challenge traditions that may no longer serve the horse, the participant or the integrity of the work.
There is something incredibly powerful about finding people who are not interested in defending the way things have always been done, but instead keep asking:
Is there another way?
What is the horse telling us?
What are we bringing into this interaction?
How can we do this with greater awareness, compassion and respect?
Finding that community feels a little like finding home.
And our training last week reminded me that none of us develops our practice alone.
Our work has been shaped enormously by Kari Fulmek and Carolyn Charles at Equine Connection, whose programs provide the foundation for our facilitator training and whose commitment to continuing to learn and evolve has deeply influenced our own.
We have learned from Chris Irwin of Mind Your Horse, whose work has expanded our understanding of how our energy, positioning and communication affect the horse.
Leah Dyck of Equus Empowered has also generously shared her knowledge and experience, contributing another perspective to the way we think about horses, humans and facilitation.
That matters to acknowledge.
Because knowledge has a lineage.
Ideas are shared, questioned, tested, adapted and built upon. One person’s curiosity creates the possibility for someone else’s discovery.
Staying curious
Perhaps one of the greatest risks in becoming experienced at something is beginning to believe we already know.
The more time I spend with horses and people, the more convinced I become that expertise isn’t about reaching a point where there is nothing left to learn.
It is about developing the confidence to keep learning.
To remain curious.
To notice more.
To question our assumptions.
To listen to perspectives that challenge our own.
To have enough humility to change our minds when new knowledge or experience asks us to.
And to recognise that experience and learning are not competing sources of wisdom. They strengthen one another. Theory gives us frameworks through which to understand our experiences, while experience tests, deepens and sometimes challenges what we think we know.
The horses are extraordinary teachers in this regard because they continually bring us back to what is actually happening, rather than what we expected to happen.
Community makes us better
There was something very special about watching 16 people learn together last week.
Different backgrounds. Different levels of experience. Different questions and observations.
But a shared willingness to be curious.
People encouraged one another without needing to have all the answers. They challenged ideas respectfully. They celebrated breakthroughs. And they created the psychological safety for others to experiment, get things wrong and try again.
That is the kind of community I want to be part of.
One where knowledge is generously shared rather than guarded.
Where experience is valued but never used as a reason to stop questioning.
Where we can respect those who came before us while still challenging practices that no longer serve.
Where the welfare, agency and dignity of the horse remain central to the work.
And where becoming better facilitators begins with becoming more aware human beings.
To the 16 people who stepped into that space last week: thank you for really showing up.
And to the teachers, colleagues, practitioners and horses who continue to influence, challenge and inspire our work — whether we have worked alongside you, learned directly from you or simply followed your work from afar — thank you.
We are better because we learn from one another.
And perhaps that is one of the most important lessons of all:
None of us needs to have all the answers. But we do need to remain curious enough to keep asking better questions — and open enough to learn from the community around us.