Learning the Language of Horses: A Journey of Connection and Presence

Joy and I are in fly mask negotiations. She walked away and returned several times before consenting.

Developing a meaningful relationship with horses is a practice in attunement and sensitivity. It requires us to be fully present and mindful of their subtle nonverbal cues. Horses speak a language without words, and learning to interpret their felt senses is key to building genuine connection and trust.

When I approach one of my horses and notice them turn their head slightly away, I recognize that gesture as a subtle sign of concern or hesitation. Instead of pushing forward, I pause, giving them space to process the interaction. If they turn to look at me, I take that as a sign of curiosity or an invitation to continue. But I remain mindful—if I see any further signs of anxiety, such as shifting their weight or preparing to move away, I’ll stop, take a step back, and soften my energy. In this way, we engage in a silent but meaningful conversation.

These exchanges are vital for creating a bond where the horse feels "seen and heard." It’s not about forcing interaction; it’s about being attuned to their needs and allowing them to guide the pace of our connection. Horses value and recognize our efforts to learn their language; it builds a foundation of confidence and trust.

Of course, it’s not always easy. Some days, I feel more attuned to their signals, while on others, I may be distracted or not entirely present and miss the subtle cues.  This may cause the horse to "raise their voice", they might have a more robust non-verbal reaction, like stepping away or even running if the continuing pressure becomes overwhelming.  In those moments, I get instant feedback and a humbling reminder that fluency in the language of horses is a lifelong pursuit—and the more present I am, the more attuned I become.

This practice of attunement with horses teaches us something profound about our own lives. How often do we wish we could speak up clearly and assertively when we’re feeling anxious or uncertain? How often do we hope that someone will notice our subtle signs of discomfort and respond with care? Horses show us that being present and listening to each other’s felt senses can lead to deeper, more authentic relationships—not just with them, but with ourselves and others.

By becoming fluent in the language of horses, I am also learning to become fluent in the language of my own felt senses—paying attention to what my body and emotions are communicating and trusting that, with practice, I can speak my truth with clarity and confidence. Just as the horses trust me to hear their whispers, I am learning to trust myself to honor my own.