True Nature Equine Bodywork & Wellness

We want an answer that makes us feel better.

Cause -> Effect = Solution. But that is not always possible. This has become increasingly evident to me in relation to horses.

Because there is a hell of a lot that we don’t know. About the horse’s body. About how behavior indicates issues. About environmental influences. Sure, we’re much better informed now than we were even just a few years ago.

But there’s still a lot we don’t know. A huge lack of data. And yet decisions still have to be made. Decisions that alleviate suffering. Decisions that change the course of our personal goals and expectations. Decisions that end up having to be made without any clear diagnosis.

This is so difficult. We want to know that we are doing the right thing, the best we can do. We need proof. We want to look at a diagnostic, to have the vet say “this is it”. But so very often, this just isn’t possible. Even with all the money in the world, we can’t often figure it out. Not because anyone is negligent. Or because we are unfeeling. Or because we don’t have access to top tier care/diagnostics/treatments. Sometimes, often, we just don’t know, can’t ever really know.

So what do we do? This is where a form of true horsemanship surfaces. When owners are willing to make hard decisions in the face of a lack of hard evidence. To reroute goals and expectations. To pivot to a path that serves the horse first, even, especially in the face of our own discomfort.

To stop treating without longer term positive results.
To stop riding, or riding at a level that the horse simply can not tolerate.
To stop normalizing a level pain, behavior and disfunction.
To stop perpetuating hope in the face of suffering.

We want to run out every possibility. We want to believe that the horse is tolerating. We want to believe that the next specialist will have the answer, the next set of injections will do the trick. I get it, we just want to believe. We want relief via definitive answers. We chase them with all we’ve got.

But, we have to put the horse’s need for relief before ours. We have to be able to step back, to see what needs to be seen - because we know our horses better than anyone - and to make really hard decisions in the face of an unsolvable riddle, with nothing to tell us that we did the right thing, other than the alleviation of our horse’s pain.

It’s often the hardest - and the most important - thing we will ever do for our horses.

And we need to try to do this with some grace, some self-forgiveness. I do not know a single horse owner who does not regret having not done the right thing, whatever that might be, sooner at some point in their life with horses. It’s hard to feel good about giving up riding and retiring your horse, or moving a horse from a competitive to a noncompetitive path, or euthanizing a horse when you are doing any of these things without a clear diagnosis.

Some things simply can not be solved. And that's okay.

Doing what we know, in our heart of hearts, is the best thing for these beloved animals, the greatest form of compassion. It is not giving up. It is acknowledging that, despite our very best efforts, we will never find the answer that makes us feel better about doing the right thing.

Sometimes bodywork is not about working with the body.

Sometimes, honestly most of the time, it’s about opening the door to a sense of safety and trust first.

The horse pictured had a tense overdeveloped neck. He picked up a stiff trot at the beginning of our session without much of an ask. I could see and feel his anxiety 30 yards off when I walked into the arena.

The photo was taken the next time the trainer, Toni Corn brought him into the arena.

My jam is working with these kinds of horses, the ones that are wary and guarded. I love working with these horses in particular because I know that, even when it doesn’t look like it, they are always, always looking for a way to connect. A way to feel just a bit safer.

Aren’t we all?

I think sometimes we forget this - about the horses, about ourselves.

I only see the horse for a hour a month, I might only see the horse one or two times. So the willingness to continue to build trust and provide the best possible environment on the daily is key. This has become critically important to me in my practcie. It feels unfair to provide an hour where the horse begins to connect and reset only to be plopped right back into a situation that just doesn’t allow for this to continue in any real way. These environments are the cause of a lot of issues (start by turning your horse out more, preferably with other horses), so unless something changes, what I do is less likely to stick. In the case of the horse pictured, I knew Toni would provide what was needed.

This is all to say, really, that we are all just out there seeking safety, and until we feel it, not much is possible. As the famous Ram Dass quote says, I believe that we are all just walking one another home. One breath, one pause, one moment of shared connection, shared safety, at a time.

What does the bodyworker’s horse look like, you may ask? Well, that’s a valid question.

Here’s a comparison of my seven-year-old off the track thoroughbred from when I first got him a little over two years ago to now. I consider the transformation (still working on better balance/strength in the thoracic sling) equal parts consistent bodywork, correct biomechanical riding and training to the (hopefully) ever-improving best of my ability, an excellent environment and nutrition, a knowledgeable trimmer and attending to my own body/imbalances.

There are no silver bullets. It truly takes a village, one I have assembled - and am deeply grateful for - with great care and discernment.

It also takes patience. Slow is the fastest way to build the foundation for the most sustainable overall wellness with horses.

The horse’s welfare should never be sacrificed for the rider's goals.

Stop and think about that for a minute.

I let a client go recently, one with several horses. Some of these horses were very high value, consistently high placing show horses, others were retired in their mid-teens. Still others were “performance” horses kept going with a multitude of treatments/injections/modalities. They were either shut down or living in sympathetic mode given their lifestyle. i’m quite sure the owner thought that they were doing all the right things for the horses’ welfare. But I kept encountering the same issues visit after visit until it was clear that my work was of no real use, that my suggestions fell on deaf ears - and that I was, perhaps, helping to perpetuate the owner’s perception of doing all the right things.

If the horses and the owner can not “hear” me, I’m out. It saddens me, for the horses, but it becomes a waste of time and money. This situation is rare for me, as most people find me through others who are already in the the horse-first ballpark. Unfortunately, this situation is all too common for horses across all disciplines.

I wish more people would sit with this idea, the one where our goals as riders need to match up - without extensive supports - with the horse’s abilities and well-being. The idea of being willing to let the horse have a say in what is possible - and what is not.

Thanks to The Whole Horse Journey for boiling this down so simply, yet powerfully.

Here is my wish for every horse owner, trainer, horse professional or just anyone who works with horses:

Read. This. (new) Book.

No really. Invest the $23 in something that will change your perspective, change your mind, set off some lightbulbs over your head.

Through a range of case study stories, you’ll learn not only how your horse sees and responds to the world and you, but why - and what you can do to be a better horseperson.

It’s not a hard read, the science is served up in bite size pieces in the context of each story - stories about real horses that we can all relate to. I read it in two sittings.

Read it. Gift it to a friend. Keep it handy. Read it with your students and talk about it. Let it change how you train, see, are with your horse.

A Horse's Life: The Neuroscience of Equine Welfare A Horse's Life: The Neuroscience of Equine Welfare

Believe what your horse tells you.

Whether they are shouting or whispering or somewhere in between.

I am half way through a two day dissection and this really struck me. It might seem like a given, a no- brainer. But for many it is not. 

Can you train/correct an issue away with relative ease? Great. Does it take concerted effort and does that issue keep slipping back in? It is not a training issue. Or a behavior issue.

If we are going to partake in the incredible privilege of sitting on our horses backs, I do believe that we need to help them carry themselves in the most biomechanically correct way that will help ensure their long-term health.

Horses are simply not built to carry us. I think we forget this. A lot.

Part of that process is allowing them to carry themselves in such a way that works for each individual horse. There are no cookie cutters in true horsemanship. There are no guarantees that your lovely fill-in-the-blank prospect actually has the ability to fulfill that particular purpose.

We have to listen and allow. Be willing to pivot, be willing to substitute our personal goals with, when they don’t align, what our horse actually needs, what our horse is actually capable of doing without being crammed into a frame, drilled into the ground, strapped into place.

Mostly, we need to slow down and just listen and let the horses truth be our truth, too.



I was working on a similar post, then I read this one and thought well she said it just as well as I could have.

Not too long ago I had a client tell me that her trainer, who said that she could see the changes in the horses that I worked with, still just didn’t get it because it looked like I “wasn’t doing anything.”

I could go on about cognitive dissonance, or about how we are so adhered to our old beliefs that we can’t accept something new even when we see it with our own eyes, but I’ll just leave you with this: quiet and gentle can be very potent, focus on the results and not the need to be impressed by performance.

I would never have thought that such quiet work would have such impressive results. He’s been amazing since you were here last.” - K.K.

Where’s the “Wow”?

A trainer I work with recently reached out about a horse that had been feeling stiff and reactive during training. He wasn’t moving comfortably, and it was starting to affect their rides.

We scheduled a session, and from the start, the horse responded really well to soft tissue work. He softened, relaxed, and began to let go of tension in a way that felt positive and productive. We finished the session and scheduled a follow-up.

Later, the trainer shared something with me.

After I left, she and the owner talked about the session—as they should. The owner said:

“I wasn’t very impressed. I don’t see how such gentle work can make any significant difference. I just wasn’t ‘wowed’ by it.”

The trainer simply replied:

“Okay… let’s see how he responds.”

The Real Results

About a week later, the trainer returned for their next lesson and asked how the horse had been.

The owner said:

“Excellent. He’s been so good—I’m so happy with him.”

And the trainer replied:

“And there’s your WOW.”

Why It Doesn’t Always Look Impressive

In the equestrian world, there’s often an expectation that effective work should look dramatic.

Big reactions, something you can clearly see, maybe even hear happening. And to be fair, many horsemen incorporate a bit of showmanship into their work as part of how they present and sell what they do. My old coach used to call it “smoke and mirrors”, techniques used by magicians to entertain and draw the eye.

And there’s another idea at play—many of us have been taught, directly or indirectly, that for something to work, it needs to be intense.

“No pain, no gain.”
“Go hard or go home.”

So when we see quiet, gentle work, it can feel like not enough is happening.

But horses don’t live in that mindset. In fact, many of them tell us the opposite—they ask for less.

And when we listen, when we soften, when we do less… we often get more.

But massage and myofascial therapy are different.

When done well, they are:
• Quiet
• Subtle
• Gradual
• Responsive to the horse

There’s no forcing, no wrenching, no sudden impacts.

And while the changes may not always appear dramatic, they are immediate and significant—seen in improved tissue texture, posture, ease of movement and emotional state.

These are meaningful shifts within the nervous system and musculoskeletal tissue, even if they go unnoticed by the untrained eye.

The goal of this type of bodywork isn’t to override the body, but to work with it—safely, effectively, and in a way that supports lasting change.

These changes don’t need to be dramatic to be effective. In fact, they’re often more lasting because they’re not forced.

A Different Way of Looking at Results

It’s completely understandable that some people expect to feel “wowed” during a session—you’re investing in your horse, you want to see that reflected, and many people are used to that being combined with a sort of entertainment experience.

But sometimes, the most effective work doesn’t perform for the human audience.

It allows the horse to process, adjust, and improve in a way that sticks.

In the end, that quiet session—that didn’t seem like much had happened—resulted in a horse that felt great after and was able to safely, kindly and comfortably do his job.

And that’s the kind of “wow” that truly matters.

https://koperequine.com/exploring-fascia-in-equine-myofascial-pain-an-integrative-view-of-mechanisms-and-healing/