The Mirror of the Horse — A Taoist Reflection on True Horsemanship

In today’s horse world, there is a prevailing notion that the horse must be fixed.

Trainers and riders speak in terms of problems to be corrected: “He’s spooky.” “She’s stubborn.” “He has separation anxiety.” What few realize is that these so-called issues are rarely the horse’s alone. What they are witnessing is a living, breathing mirror. The horse is not broken. What is broken is our connection to stillness, authenticity, and truth.

The horse reflects the unspoken.

They reflect our emotional dissonance, our impatience, our control, our need to dominate. And they reflect our pain. Often, a human believes they are calm and grounded, but unless that calm is rooted in deep, embodied breath and free of ego’s entanglement, the horse will not be fooled. They respond not to our surface intentions but to our innermost state.

“Knowing others is intelligence; knowing yourself is true wisdom. Mastering others is strength; mastering yourself is true power.”

— Tao Te Ching, Verse 33

Yes, horses have stories. They carry traumas not of their choosing—passed around, abandoned when they don’t conform to a discipline or a rider’s vision. But horses are masters of the Tao; they live only in the now, the present moment - something humans struggle even to attempt, let alone attain. But horses do not dwell in memory. They don't fret about the past nor worry about the future. Trauma that horses endure only surface when they are triggered by a sound, a person, a smell, a thought, intention, or action by a person not from memory itself, but from the body’s wisdom of survival. And once that threat is over, they quickly and silently return to the present moment. But still, this is not the core of most behaviors.

What we see 99.99% of the time is our own reflection in the horse. Our fear. Our distraction. Our dishonesty. And tragically, they are punished for the wisdom they offer in showing us where we are misaligned. Rather than thank them, we correct them. Rather than listen, we silence them.

This is not horsemanship. This is ego wrapped in reins.

We don’t need to “train” the horse. We need to train the self.

True horsemanship is about sharing and learning with the horse. We can co-discover the joy of dancing in harmony, finding balance, and navigating the waters and the forests of new experiences and adventures together. We can explore patterns and movements, rhythms and stillness. But never through coercion. Always through mutual willingness. When it is done right, it is not training—it is communion.

“You must keep in mind that your horse is not a machine, but a living being. He must understand what is being asked of him. You must not demand too much too soon. With kindness, tact, and patience, you will go far.”

— Nuno Oliveira

This partnership is not unlike a pas de deux in ballet. You do not impose movement on your partner. You listen. You adapt. You harmonize. Each step is a conversation, not a command. Each moment is an invitation, not an imposition.

The horse meets us where we are.

“Until you make the unconscious conscious, it will direct your life and you will call it fate.”

— Carl Jung

If we bring unresolved pain, unconscious beliefs, or masked intentions into their sacred space, the horse will not lie to us. They can’t. Their nervous system is attuned to truth. This is why they are such sacred teachers. They bring the unseen to the surface. And yet in this world, such honesty is met with punishment.

In true horsemanship, we approach the horse as an equal, as sovereign. We shed the agenda. We release the desire to dominate. And from that space, something extraordinary is born.

There is no domination in the Tao. There is no separation.

“The Master doesn’t try to be powerful; thus he is truly powerful. The ordinary man keeps reaching for power; thus he never has enough.”

— Tao Te Ching, Verse 38

There is a phrase from Taoist understanding: wu wei, which means non-forcing, non-interference. It does not mean not doing anything—it means aligned action, action rooted in the natural rhythm of life. Horses live in wu wei. It is we who must learn how to return.

“Let yourself be silently drawn by the strange pull of what you really love. It will not lead you astray.”

— Rumi

True horsemanship is not technique. It is a spiritual path. A sacred unfolding. A quiet remembering of who we really are—beyond the ego, beyond the performance, beyond the grasp for control. It is a practice of breath, presence, humility, and resonance.

In this way, the horse becomes not a project, but a portal.

A teacher.

A mirror.

A healer.

A guide.

And we must ask ourselves: Are we listening?

“The horse is a mirror to your soul. Sometimes you might not like what you see. Sometimes you will.”

— Buck Brannaman

So, let us honor the horse. Let us stop trying to “fix” them, and instead ask them what they are trying to show us. Let us meet them in that sacred field, where the breath is deep, the spirit is humble, and the connection is whole.

And in that stillness, may we hear the whisper of the Tao…

…and follow it home.