What Horses Teach Humans About Leadership

The benefit of going to “the blind spot”

Working on my family’s cattle operation for nearly six years where horses, rather than 4-wheelers, are the partners of choice when gathering and moving cattle from one pasture to another allowed me to develop numerous skills. Among them, an appreciation for the trainability of cattle and the skills required to form partnerships with horses. It was a slow process that required me to overcome tremendous fear and changed my life.

Just as there are various approaches to leading humans, the same goes for horses.

The method I employed at the ranch worked for that environment. The times it felt incongruent deep within me were quickly erased by the need to get a job done. When I transitioned from ranch work to horse-guided coaching, my curiosity about the leadership approach I learned earlier on my horsemanship journey re-surfaced. Thankfully, I remembered how congruent it felt and divine intervention led me back to the same trainer at the same barn where I was nine years before at the beginning of my quest.

An illustration of a more congruent + harmonious leadership approach is best described by sharing the dialogue that occurred on the first day of my re-learning venture. This type of leadership approach speaks to the value of quiet leaders - who were increasingly overlooked - until Amy Cain’s 2012 book, Quiet: The Power of Introverts in a World That Can’t Stop Talking. She points out that humans’ default is to be drawn toward extroverted, dynamic, showy “alpha” leaders. Thanks to the rise of industrial and media ages, it feels as if one can’t succeed in life unless you’re a fast-talking salesman or saleswoman. While we know that’s not true, it isn’t easy to exist on the fringe and take roads less traveled.

Learning to show up quietly + effectively

My horse partner and I were in a round pen inside the barn. I assumed the horse wanted to partner with me and was surprised (and a little frustrated) when it wandered away.

“How am I supposed to collaborate with this horse when it appears so disinterested?,” I wondered. 

It was as if the trainer read my thoughts.

“The horse is ignoring you,” he said. While that was obvious, I sensed it was wise to remain quiet and mindful. 

“How can you become more interesting than other objects in the barn?,” he inquired.

I admit, I wasn’t the least bit humored by the realization that the “other objects” deemed more interesting ranged from saddles and saddle blankets to gates and even a pile of poop.

“How can you give the horse an opportunity to make a choice between you and the items distracting him?,” he asked.

I confidently walked up to the horse’s head and began waving my arms + making noise in an effort to be noticed.

The horse stood there with the same look of distance + disinterest in his eyes that he had when he wandered away.

My attention-getting antics continued. I felt silly and frustrated that my previous horse experience seemed irrelevant in that moment. 

To someone gifted in the ability to pick up on the slightest nuances and energy shifts in horses + humans, the trainer noticed my growing dissatisfaction.

At exactly the right moment, he posed another question: “Who’s doing all the work right now?”

The simple yet profound answer struck me within seconds.

“Me,” I stated.

Finding “the blind spot”

“How does that feel?,” he asked.

“It’s exhausting,” I admitted, somewhat deflated.

The trainer’s usually stoic face shifted as the corners of his mouth turned slightly upwards into a modest smile.

Relief washed over me at the same time my instinct kicked in encouraging me to figure out a way of getting the horse's attention without doing all the work.

Thankfully, the trainer could tell I was thinking and guided me by asking, “Where can you go so the horse can’t see you but can feel your presence?”

“Directly behind it,” I responded hesitantly as I walked slowly + purposefully toward the other end of his body. As I approached his hip, I reached out and put one hand on the top of his rump, above his tail and took my place, directly behind him with the front of me facing his back side, inches from his tail.

I waited quietly + curiously.

Within seconds, I noticed the horse turning his head in an attempt to look behind him - first to the right, then to the left. He repeated this behavior a few times as I stood still, observing.

“Now you’re more interesting than anything else in the barn,” said the trainer. “And, do you notice who’s doing all the work?”

I recognized the rhetorical nature of his question and remained still, completely at peace.

From a leadership perspective, the take-away is profound. My intention was simple: partner with the horse to learn. But the horse wasn’t necessarily interested in partnering with me, illustrated by the fact that even though he could see me, he continued to be distracted by “other things” in the barn. It wasn’t until I went to his blind spot that I became more interesting than the “other things”. Only then did he choose to pay attention to my presence.

Going to “the blind spot” in business

The timing of this experience + discovery was anything but ironic. Not long afterwards, I implemented this approach with a client.

Experience taught me that asking questions, rather than assuming I understand needs previously discussed, is a worthwhile best practice. With this in mind, I reached out to  individuals on the client team with some intentional questions to help me gain clarity.  

As weeks passed and questions went unanswered, the clearer my choices became:

I could continue nudging the decision makers until I filled up email inboxes or voicemails; move forward with my recommendations without client input or knowledge of budget + priorities;  or go to “the blind spot” and wait quietly + patiently.

I chose to go to “the blind spot”. And here’s why: waiting in the blind spot gives others the time to make choices. Humans like having choices because it empowers them to feel in control - whether or not control is what we seek. It’s our powerful unconscious that keeps us seeking. In this case, I know I’m still a choice and there’s no need to say anything. I’m not giving up. I’m simply waiting.

In the day and age of immediate gratification and tremendous effort being placed on “doing”, I’ll admit going to “the blind spot” and waiting feels somewhat counterintuitive. There are times when I want to confront the client but the desire to exist harmoniously is my new default. Experience has taught me that any time I’m more excited + energetic than a client is about actions, the less likely he or she is to show up as a collaborative partner. I’ve lost interest in forcing things for the sake of getting them done. It isn’t worth creating discord instead of harmony. 

How might going to “the blind spot” alter your leadership approach? What would it feel like to quietly + patiently wait for a choice to be made rather than forcing one? 

Get in touch for more information + guidance on learning how to go to “the blind spot.”