My dog Bugsy caught her first squirrel yesterday.

At first, I was not sure what had happened. She did’t come in when I called, which was unusual. About an hour later she was ready, and when I opened the back door I found a half-eaten carcass lying squarely in the middle of the lawn.

Bugsy was clearly proud of herself.

I have to admit, it was impressive. I have shared my life with ten dogs over the last forty-plus years, and this was the first time one of them actually caught the squirrel they had been chasing. How many dogs spend a lifetime in pursuit, always falling a step or two short of the prize?

Lately, I have been thinking a lot about achievement and about reaching for the brass ring. We live in a world that celebrates champions and honors accomplishment at the highest level. Look no further than the equestrian world and the themes that dominate so many advertising campaigns. Count how many promise a path to greatness.

I did a quick scan of advertising in the equestrian space and found that roughly 90 percent of horse-related ads either explicitly or implicitly allude to or promise a pathway to winning.

“From beginner to winner.”
“Training to win.”
“The winner’s edge.”
“Powering champions.”

The list goes on. I have to assume these messages persist because they work.

We are raised in a culture of competition at almost every level. From the earliest ages, we are introduced to competitive sport. Lead-line classes before children can even hold themselves upright. Soccer at two or three years old (Herd Ball), with coaches holding up giant arrows so toddlers know which direction to run.

We compete for grades, recognition, school acceptances, jobs, leadership roles, money, and, not to forget, power.

I have two other dogs. I wonder if Bugsy caught that squirrel to best Lilly and Tia.

That feels hard to imagine.

I believe Bugsy was responding to something deeper, an authentic drive that fueled her patience, passion, and persistence. A drive that kept her in the hunt for the three years she has been with me and will likely keep her in the hunt for years to come.

What would it be like if we fueled our children’s passions rather than setting them up from the very beginning for judgment, competition, and comparison?

What would our relationship with horses look like if it were grounded in that same passion for discovery rather than a constant jockeying for blue ribbons or personal and professional validation?

I wonder what we might accomplish. ~ Paul

#PsychSaturday #RidingFar #PurposeOverPerformance #IntrinsicMotivation 

#BeyondWinning #TheLongGame #HorseHumanConnection #MindsetMatters 

#PassionNotPressure #RethinkingSuccess #AuthenticDrive #LearningJourney 

#EquestrianLife #HumanDevelopment #CuriosityOverCompetition

I was raised in the Catholic Church. In fact, I am the product of twenty six years of formal Catholic education and spent six years of my young life as a monk in the Congregation of Christian Brothers. It has been a long time since I actively participated in a church community, but this season of gratitude has me reflecting on how those early experiences shaped me in steady, positive ways.

My deepest gratitude is for a simple yet powerful idea. The idea that the spirit or intention behind a practice, ritual, law, guideline, or prescription should matter more than living “the letter of the law.” This is not to say the “law” does not matter. Shared and agreed upon practices create a sense of community and give us a framework for living out shared values. But what happens when the practice becomes more important than the value it was meant to express, when the practices become performative?

I think this simple idea fuels my curiosity. Long ago I realized that core values can be expressed in countless ways. Each embodiment of a value carries its own shape, its own flavor, its own contribution to our understanding of what that value really means.

My lifelong search, whether in psychology or horsemanship, has always been for the common threads woven through different perspectives and traditions. I am wary of disciples of any approach, whether it is a religion, a psychological theory, or a school of horsemanship, who cling rigidly to their method as the only way.

So today I am challenging myself to reconnect with my values. When I notice my behaviors or choices drifting into the performative, I will return to the quiet question beneath it all. What is the spirit I am trying to honor? And then I will live from that place with more courage, more clarity, and more truth than performance could ever offer. ~Paul

#RidingFar #PsychSaturday #ValuesDriven #BeyondPerformative #AuthenticLiving #InnerWork #PsychologyInPractice #HorsesAndHumans #HorsemanshipJourney #SpiritOverPerformance #StayCurious #SelfReflection #IntentionMatters

This weekend I’m heading to the Stardust Slow Balboa Weekend, a full immersion into slow balboa with classes, social dances, and even a competition.

“What is Slow Balboa?” you might ask.

Excellent question. I’ve been asking it too.

The funny thing is that everyone I ask has a slightly different answer. Here is what I do know: it is a partner dance, it is related to swing, and I am going to spend the entire weekend discovering what it feels like from the inside out.

We talk a lot about beginner’s mind, the idea of approaching a new skill with curiosity and wonder. It makes sense that we focus on the mind. If you are anything like me, it is your thoughts that get loud when you are learning something new. My inner critic is particularly enthusiastic. It loves those moments when I stumble or fall short and is quick to offer commentary I never asked for.

On good days, I can wrangle those thoughts by sheer force of will and redirect myself back to learning. But recently I have realized something important. As much as my thinking matters, it is my heart that fuels me.

A beginner’s heart, full of joy, eagerness, excitement, and possibility, gives us the energy to learn, to seek, and to keep going. It quiets the inner critic far better than logic ever could.

So this weekend I will be leaning into my own beginner’s heart as I explore Slow Balboa, openly, eagerly, a little awkwardly, and with the same curiosity I bring to the barn.

If you are learning something new, whether in a lesson, a clinic, or a quiet moment of practice on your own, I hope you find your beginner’s heart too. It is a wonderful companion on the journey. ~Paul

#RidingFar #PsychSaturday #BeginnersHeart #BeginnersMind #LearningJourney #SlowBalboa #SwingDanceCommunity #CuriosityOverFear #GrowthMindset #JoyInLearning #TrySomethingNew #AdultLearners #PracticeWithHeart #EmbraceTheJourney #InnerCritic #KeepLearning

In preparation for our next webinar, I started reading a new book on boundaries. There are hundreds of books on the subject, and I wasn’t sure where to begin or what to look for in my next read. What I did know was that I didn’t want another book offering advice on how and when to say “no.” It’s not that learning to say no isn’t important, but setting limits like that naturally grows from having healthy boundaries. I wanted to understand how to nurture those boundaries, not just teach people how to act as if they already had them.

As I scanned through titles, one stood out because of its subtitle: “Where You End and I Begin.” It captured the idea of boundaries in a way that, for me, inspired both curiosity and wonder. Physically, it is easy to grasp the boundary between you and me. Yet in almost every other way, whether emotionally, psychologically, spiritually, or energetically, it becomes profoundly difficult to define.

One way we recognize a boundary is through conflict. Let’s call these the “no’s” in a relationship. These inevitable conflicts arise from the simple fact of difference: different ideas, different interests, different strategies to meet our needs.

In the world of horses, there has been growing attention to seeing and respecting the “no.” Noticing these moments of conflict is essential, but is simply honoring the “no” enough to develop healthy boundaries? To me, it seems like the easy way out to simply withdraw, separate, or put up a wall whenever we recognize a “no.”

Boundaries require both a you and a me. They are dynamic and come alive in interaction. All the rich qualities of relationship, such as respect, honor, trust, dignity, love, care, and concern, emerge from the search for the “yes,” not from merely respecting the “no.”

There are parts of the horse world that are focused entirely on the “no” these days. It is an understandable correction for all the times when the boundary between human and horse has been bulldozed by human needs and desires. But we must be careful not to swing too far in the other direction and lose the beauty and magic that exist in the boundary itself.

Saying no, or stopping when we see a no, is easy. Finding a yes is what truly counts, especially if we want to live in healthy relationship with one another and with our horses. Let us seek that energetic, emotional, psychological, spiritual, and dynamic interplay of self and other as we discover a true yes that respects and honors all the beings with whom we share this world.

How have you and your horses found a mutual yes?

~ Paul

#RidingFar #PsychSaturday #Horsemanship #EquineConnection #RelationalHorsemanship #ConnectionOverControl #HorseHumanConnection #TrustAndRespect #MindfulHorsemanship #EquineWisdom #HorsesAsTeachers #AuthenticConnection #BoundariesWithHorses #FindingTheYes

Some things are small. Some things are so small that it’s hard to believe they could make a meaningful difference. Would you notice if something moved 1/1000th of an inch? 1/100th? Would you see if I was 1/1000th of a second faster or slower than you? And even if we did notice, would it really matter?

Justin and Kola were competing in the USA Working Equitation Regional Finals this weekend. The first day, Dressage, Justin tied for first with another rider. The tie was broken by totaling the collective marks, and Justin placed second. The second day, after the Ease of Handling phase—second again. Until…

In the process of checking score sheets, a small addition error was found. When the dust settled, Justin dropped one placing. He trailed second place by… yes… 1/1000th of a point.

For Justin and Kola, that 1/1000th meant some emotional ups and downs, a bit of pressure, and the challenge of channeling that tension into their Speed round. In the end, it didn’t change much. They still rode beautifully. They still came home champions of their division.

But it got me thinking about small differences and the meaning we attach to them.

Competition, by design, magnifies differences. It’s a system of measurement, of ranking, of deciding who wins and who loses. That’s not inherently bad; it can drive growth, focus, and excellence. But when our identity starts to hinge on where we land in that ranking, when our self-worth depends on the data, we step into more dangerous psychological territory.

The idea that who I am is what I achieve, performance identity, is a shaky foundation. In equestrian sport, it’s especially seductive. We invest deeply: time, money, energy, heart. The partnership with a horse makes the stakes feel even more personal. When things go well, we feel validated. When they don’t, we question everything.

When our sense of self depends on the scoreboard, that 1/1000th of a point can feel like a verdict. Not just about performance, but about worth. It narrows our lens until all we can see is how close we came to being “better.” And that steals joy, presence, and perspective from the very thing we love.

The truth is, most of life happens in the space beyond measurement. In the quiet rides, the small moments of connection, the unseen effort, and perhaps most importantly the supportive community that surrounds us . Those things don’t show up on a score sheet, but they are the true substance of growth.

So maybe the challenge isn’t to erase our competitive drive, but to hold it more lightly. To remember that 1/1000th of a point doesn’t define us, it just reminds us how close the margins are between doing and being, between striving and enough.

Justin and Kola didn’t need a perfect score to prove anything. They already had what mattered most: partnership, resilience, and a story that will be retold among friends.

And maybe that’s the point…

Sometimes, the smallest differences are there to remind us of what can’t be measured at all.

~ Paul

#PsychSaturday #PerformancePsychology #EquestrianMindset #1of1000 #GrowthMindset #MindfulCompetition #HorseAndHuman #BeyondTheRibbon #SmallThingsBigMeaning #IdentityAndPerformance #PurposeDrivenPerformance #EmotionalResilience