Just days after I received my certification to perform physical therapy on horses, I found myself approaching a daunting thoroughbred at a barn in Huntington, New York.  He was tall, very strong, and still full of untamed equine energy.  The self-doubt in my own abilities to handle him, despite my extensive training, began welling up inside me like a helium balloon.  I elected, instead, to exude an air of stoic confidence as I entered his 50-foot square paddock.  After clicking a lead rope to the halter ring under his chin, I began applying my first strokes to his neck muscles.  The horse reared, releasing the slipknot from the fence, and landed with a menacing bite directed at my shoulder.  One quick buck with his back legs and off he bolted to the other side of the paddock.  I struggled to keep the self-doubt in check, but was losing the battle.  I turned, facing away from the horse, looked out over the adjoining pasture and broke down, the self-doubt now consuming my exterior.  No more than a minute of this, my mask of confidence in ruins, and I began to feel a sensation between my shoulder blades.  The horse had traversed the length of the paddock and burrowed his nose, gently, into my back.  It wasn’t until I came into balance emotionally, demonstrating congruence, that the horse was free to trust me.

    I had finished my session with the horse, only partially aware of what the lesson was for me that day.  Important revelations often move at a glacial pace, but what was abundantly clear was the fact that these animals had something important to offer human beings in terms of psychosocial development.  This single experience opened up a whole new world for me as my two seemingly different career paths, social work and horse work, culminated into a single symbiotic mission.