09/08/2026
Listening to what the horse is saying is so important, so is how you react to it. Beautifully explained, thank you Suz Crichton-Stuart.
The Nuance of No
If a horse has no opportunity to say no, then what is the point in him ever saying yes?
Having free choice when “no” isn’t really an option isn’t free choice at all.
I believe both of those things.
But I also believe that, within a relationship, both you and your horse get to say no to each other.
Within the therapeutic context of my hands-on work, horses say no to me all the time.
They also say, “Ouch.”
“Watch it.”
“I don’t feel safe with you going there.”
And occasionally there is a very wholehearted, “F-off from there.”
I listen to all of those responses.
But honouring a no doesn’t necessarily mean abandoning the conversation.
My job is, in part, to find the areas a horse is protecting and work out why. If I simply backed away from every area that caused concern, I could easily avoid some of the places that most need investigating.
Equally, if a horse cannot trust my touch, or learn that I will listen when they communicate with me, why would they ever feel safe enough to allow me near the physical or emotional tension they are protecting?
This is what I think of as **the nuance of no**.
When I meet resistance, whether that is something as subtle as a change in expression or as obvious as a rapidly moving back leg, I don't simply push through it.
Instead, I ask around the question.
“If that's a no, what about here?”
“What about this pressure?”
“What about from this direction?”
I change where I am touching, how I am touching, the amount of pressure I am using and sometimes simply how close I am to the area.
I am looking for the boundary.
The place where the horse is aware that something feels difficult, but is still able to process what is happening rather than becoming overwhelmed by it.
There is an important difference between **discomfort and distress**.
Not every moment of useful bodywork is necessarily comfortable. Sometimes an area is sore, guarded or unfamiliar. But I want to work at the edge of what the horse can tolerate, not beyond the point where communication turns into defence.
Once I find that edge, I wait.
I slow down.
I breathe.
I soften my own body and give the horse time to assess what is happening.
And I watch.
Does the guarding reduce?
Does the horse begin to breathe differently?
Does their posture change?
Can I make the same contact again with less concern?
Sometimes the boundary begins to move.
An area that was initially completely off limits becomes tolerable. Then accessible. Eventually, I may be able to palpate the place the horse had been protecting and begin working out why.
Sometimes there is something I can help with osteopathically.
Sometimes what I find tells me that this horse needs a vet, physio or another member of their professional team instead.
And sometimes the answer is still simply no.
That distinction matters.
There is a difference between a **soft no** — uncertainty, guarding, “I don't like that”, “I'm not sure about this” — and a **hard no**.
A hard no means stop.
If I cannot find a place around the edge where the horse can comfortably remain in the conversation, I don't force my way through.
Instead, I may work indirectly.
I might work through other areas of tension and connected tissues, use gentler craniosacral approaches elsewhere, or use breathing and nervous-system work to reduce the horse's overall level of anxiety and guarding.
Sometimes changing what is happening elsewhere in the body alters how the horse responds to the difficult area.
And sometimes I simply leave that area for another day and move onto something else.
Because the goal of treatment is not for me to “win” and touch somewhere the horse didn't want me to touch.
The goal is to help the horse to feel safer and more comfortable in their body.
Sometimes the most useful thing I can do in one session is honour a hard no, help some of the softer areas around it to release, and show the horse that when they communicate with me, I listen.
Very often, the next time I see that horse, the conversation is different.
They allow me a little closer.
The boundary has shifted.
Trust has grown.
And we can start asking the question again.
That, for me, is the nuance of no.
Not assuming that every no means “never”.
And not assuming that because I believe something may help, I have the right to ignore the horse saying “stop”.
It is working in the space between the two.
Listening carefully enough to know when to ask again, when to change the question, and when to leave it alone.
For horses who are guarded, sensitive about touch, difficult to assess or who have learned to protect certain parts of their body, that conversation can be just as important as the hands-on techniques themselves.
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