TRAINING TIPS
Tips from our Trainer Members
Amy's Musings ~ Nov 2026
The Seduction of Clarity.
by AMY SKINNER
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For many horse owners, few things are more powerful than the desire to help your horse. When your partner is lame, anxious, or “just not right,” that ache to understand and fix what’s wrong can consume you. It’s an emotional vulnerability — and it’s precisely what some “top” figures in the equine industry have learned to exploit.
They don’t sell education, they sell certainty. This is why they often can become very successful - even with little riding education and experience of their own going unnoticed.
The horse world can feel confusing and divided. Every clinician seems to have their own “method,” every social media expert their own jargon. People who care deeply about their horses — often those who feel overlooked or dismissed by mainstream trainers or professionals — are drawn to anyone who speaks with confidence.
Manipulative figures understand this psychology. They speak in absolutes:
“Traditional methods have failed you, but this is the missing link.”
For someone feeling lost, those words land like a lifeline. The message is intoxicating: You haven’t been wrong; you’ve just been excluded from the truth.
How Manipulative Tactics Work
These figures use a familiar playbook:
Overpromising: They frame soundness, confidence, or connection as guaranteed outcomes of their system — things that can be “restored” or “reprogrammed.” All you have to do is follow the system.
Pseudo-science & mystique: They use technical or spiritual language without ever offering transparent evidence. The vagueness creates the illusion of depth.
Authority branding: They position themselves as a hybrid of healer, scientist, and visionary. Their titles and certifications, often self-invented, lend the aura of legitimacy.
Manufactured exclusivity: They create tiers — certifications, “inner circles.” Each level promises the next revelation. The follower is kept forever almost there.
Isolation from outside influence: Mainstream professionals — vets, farriers, other trainers — are subtly (or overtly) undermined. If you question the method, you “don’t get it.” If your horse doesn’t improve, it’s because you did it wrong.
Emotional bonding: These figures often project empathy and spirituality. They tell heartfelt stories of redemption and struggle, positioning themselves as both savior and fellow sufferer. It builds trust — but also dependency.
The people most often pulled into these systems are not naïve. They’re conscientious, introspective horse owners — usually women — who are trying to bridge the gap between traditional horsemanship and a more ethical approach. Many have been dismissed or patronized by professionals, leaving them hungry for belonging and validation.
That loneliness becomes fertile ground for manipulation. When someone finally tells you that your compassion and intuition are right, it’s deeply affirming.
The tragedy is that these manipulative programs rarely deliver lasting results. Horses remain sore, unbalanced, or confused, while owners are told they must invest in yet another level of training, another course, or more expensive offering.
Meanwhile, genuine experts — veterinarians, physical therapists, and experienced, educated trainers — are painted as closed-minded or “stuck in old paradigms.” The industry fractures further, and the people who wanted to help their horses most are left questioning their instincts and bank accounts.
The antidote isn’t cynicism — it’s critical thinking paired with compassion. Horse owners deserve to feel empowered, not ashamed. You can protect yourself from manipulative tactics by asking a few simple questions:
Where is the independent evidence?
What happens if this doesn’t work?
Are the claims specific and measurable, or vague and mystical?
Do they encourage you to consult other professionals, or to rely only on them?
Does the message make you feel afraid, guilty, or inadequate without their guidance?
A good education gives you the tools to think for yourself.
Helping your horse should not mean surrendering your judgment. Real horsemanship — the kind rooted in empathy and awareness — thrives on humility and questioning. It acknowledges that no one person, no single system, has all the answers.
The true path to soundness, both physical and moral, lies not in secret methods but in curiosity, collaboration, and the courage to remain uncertain.
Photo by Caitlin Hatch
Amy's Musings ~ Oct 2026
Satisfaction and happiness are two very different animals.
by AMY SKINNER
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Satisfaction and happiness are two very different animals.
If we look at riding as something that is meant to make us happy, we often set ourselves up for frustration and disappointment.
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Many of us come to the barn after work looking for an escape. We leave behind the responsibilities of the day, hoping that time with our horse will help us unwind, entertain us, or soothe our stress. In many ways, we unconsciously ask the horse to carry more than our physical weight—we ask him to carry our emotional state as well.
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The problem is that when our expectation is for the horse to make us feel better, we stop meeting the moment as it is. Instead of listening, we begin comparing reality to the experience we hoped to have.
The horse is fresh.
The weather changes.
Our body feels stiff.
The horse struggles with balance.
Something doesn’t go according to plan.
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Rather than asking, “What is this moment asking of me?” we ask, “Why isn’t this making me feel the way I wanted to feel?”
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When our riding is driven primarily by the pursuit of happiness or enjoyment, our horse’s imperfections become obstacles to our experience. His anxiety, tension, lack of focus, or unwanted behaviors are viewed as inconveniences that interfere with our ability to relax. We become frustrated with him, disappointed in ourselves, or critical of the ride because it failed to deliver the feeling we were seeking.
But satisfaction is something entirely different.
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Satisfaction comes from meeting what is difficult with curiosity and integrity. It comes from growing into the kind of rider our horse needs. It comes from understanding more deeply today than we did yesterday.
When our purpose is satisfaction rather than happiness, we arrive with a different attitude.
Instead of asking what we can get from the horse, we begin asking what we can give to the moment.
A horse that won’t stand at the mounting block is no longer an annoyance—it is information.
A horse that jigs down the trail is no longer ruining the ride—it is revealing tension.
A horse that calls to his friends is not being disrespectful—it is expressing something about his emotional state.
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Instead of simply working around these problems or tolerating them, we become interested in resolving them at their root. We seek understanding instead of compliance. We seek balance instead of control.
Ironically, this approach often produces far more true happiness- we could instead call it joy- than chasing happiness ever could.
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The joy becomes a byproduct rather than the objective.
Our relationship with our horses deepens because it is built on shared growth instead of shared entertainment. We leave the barn not necessarily because every ride was easy or enjoyable, but because we know we met the moment honestly. We became a little more capable, a little more patient, and a little more aware.
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That is the kind of satisfaction that lasts long after the ride is over.
Can you take whatever is offered—no matter how boring, bitter, offensive, unwanted, or difficult—and find something worth noticing?
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You don’t have to pretend it’s good. You don’t have to force gratitude or deny your experience. It’s okay to say it’s awful, painful, frightening, or no fun at all.
But can you get a little curious?
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Can you investigate what’s underneath it? Can you pay closer attention? Can you learn something from it, even if the lesson is simply how not to end up there again?
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Can you practice meeting reality as it is instead of fighting what has already happened? Can you surrender to the moment while developing the awareness and skill to shape what comes next?
The practice is here—in the moments we resist most. Not only in the peaceful or picturesque times, but in the mess, the fall, the mistake, the disappointment, the distrust.
Lean in.
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Protect yourself, but stay curious. What might this experience have to teach you? What strength, insight, or understanding might be hidden inside it?
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We are all, in some way, shaping our lives as we go. Curiosity helps us become better artists of the raw material we’re given.
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I would encourage riders to start asking:
“What is my horse capable of right now, and what can I do to help him become more capable?”
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~ Amy Skinner
AMY SKINNER HORSEMANSHIP
Amy's Musings ~ Sept 2026
When Finding the Problem... Becomes the Problem
by AMY SKINNER
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There is a strange trend developing in horsemanship that I think deserves some careful consideration.
We have more information than ever before. We have access to research, biomechanics, veterinary knowledge, saddle fitting, dentistry, nutrition, behavior, neuroscience, anatomy, rehabilitation, and an endless vocabulary for describing what might be happening inside a horse’s body.
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That should be a wonderful thing. But information is not the same thing as understanding.
And understanding the theory of something is not the same thing as being able to recognize it, feel it, influence it, and know whether what you are doing is actually helping.
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I increasingly see riders become so committed to the idea that there is something wrong with their horse that every proposed solution simply uncovers another problem.
The horse is crooked, they are told. Then they discover that the crookedness is caused by asymmetry. Then the asymmetry is caused by compensation. Then the compensation is caused by an old injury. Then the injury has created a neurological pattern. Then the neurological pattern means the horse cannot safely be asked to do the exercise.
And suddenly, months or years have gone by and the horse is no further along.
There is always another explanation, another restriction. Another professional to be called, and it always results in the horse backsliding and being unable to be ridden.
At some point, we have to ask a difficult question:
Are we actually helping the horse, or have we become attached to finding things wrong with the horse?
Having problems can happen, but problems are not the goal.
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Horses absolutely have physical limitations. They can have pain, injury, poor conformation, asymmetry, weakness, inadequate strength, poor coordination, inappropriate equipment, dental problems, and countless other genuine issues. Ignoring those things is not good horsemanship.
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But recognizing a limitation should lead us toward a better question:
What can I do about it?
If the answer is always, “Nothing, because this horse has X,” then we aren’t really training anymore. We are diagnosing, and many people can become addicted to diagnosing as opposed to creating true soundness.
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And diagnosis without a path forward can become a remarkably sophisticated form of helplessness.
A horse doesn’t need us to find every imperfection in his body. He needs us to help him function better within the body he actually has. The vocabulary can become a substitute for feel.
One of the problems with learning primarily through theory is that theory can give us the illusion that we understand something long before we actually do.
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You can learn what “thoracic sling,” “compensation,” “rotation,” “lateral flexion,” “asymmetry,” or “proprioception” means. You can learn to recognize the words people use to describe movement. You can watch endless videos explaining biomechanics.
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You can even become very good at explaining these concepts to other people. But none of that automatically teaches you how a horse feels underneath you. It doesn’t necessarily teach you when a horse is genuinely restricted versus simply inexperienced. It doesn’t teach you how to make a correction without creating three new problems.
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And most importantly, it doesn’t teach you how to determine whether the thing you believe is happening is actually happening. That requires practical experience.
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Knowledge should make us more discerning, not more afraid. It should give us more tools, not fewer.
The question I want riders to ask, instead of continually asking:
“What’s wrong with my horse?”
I would encourage riders to start asking:
“What is my horse capable of right now, and what can I do to help him become more capable?”
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~ Amy Skinner
AMY SKINNER HORSEMANSHIP
Spring Fitness Tune-ups
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The Spring Fitness Tune-Ups: Meeting the Horse You Have Today
by AMY SKINNER
There’s something about spring that makes us eager. The days are longer, the footing improves, and suddenly it feels like we should be able to pick up right where we left off in the fall.
But horses don’t work that way—and if we’re honest, neither do we as riders. One of the biggest mistakes I see this time of year is assumption. We assume the horse is as fit as they were. We assume their mind is in the same place. We assume the buttons we installed last season are still sharp and accessible. And when those assumptions don’t hold up, it’s easy to feel frustrated or confused.
Instead, spring needs to start with a reset. Meet the horse you have today, not the one you remember. Winter, even in lighter climates, tends to bring some level of physical and mental downtime. Maybe they’ve moved less. Maybe their work has been inconsistent. Maybe they’ve just had time to get comfortable in their own patterns without the structure of regular training.
Whatever the case, their body and mind have shifted—sometimes in small ways, sometimes significantly. Your job isn’t to push them back to where they were. It’s to figure out where they are now.
