A thousand pounds of truth,
waiting for you in a round pen.
The ELL Intensive. A session doing what years of work haven't.
A thousand pounds of truth, waiting for you in a round pen.
The ELL Intensive.
A session doing what years of work haven't.
You already know who you are.
You just stopped hearing it.
- The leader who has everything on the outside, with a low signal underneath that says this isn't quite landing.
- The founder who can read a room in thirty seconds and can't read why her own life feels hollow.
- The woman who's been riding horses her whole life and has never had the horse show her herself.
- The person who's done the therapy, the coaching, the plant medicine, the silent retreat, and still catches herself performing in rooms where she used to be real.
Bee did not tell me. The horse told me.
The horse doesn't care what you say.
It's reading something older than words.
Horses are prey animals. Ten thousand years of evolution taught them to read the inside of another body before they decide whether to stay or leave. Heart rate. Breath. Muscle tension. The smallest difference between what you're projecting and what's actually happening underneath.
So when you walk into the round pen and the horse won't join up, it isn't rejection. It's information. When you're congruent, the horse joins up. When you're not, the horse stays away. Either one is the teaching. This is why the work goes faster than anything else you've tried. You're not talking yourself into clarity. You're being met by a body that can't be charmed.
Your life has been doing the same thing. The horse just makes it visible.
Ninety minutes.
One horse. One translator.
One truth you can't un-know.
What you walk in with
A life mostly working, with a signal underneath you haven't been able to name. The gap between who you are on the outside and who you are underneath.
What happens in the round pen
You stand with the horse. I stay close. The horse reads you. I translate what the horse is saying as information, not interpretation. We work with whatever shows up.
What you walk out with
A felt line between who you've been performing and who you actually are. A name for the thing that's been off. The body knowledge of congruence, not the idea of it.
This work is in-person only.
Home base is Warwick, New York.
Every intensive begins with a conversation.
I didn't find this work.
The horse did.
I've been a yoga and meditation teacher for fourteen years. I taught breath. I taught the body. I taught people how to come back to themselves.
I came to horses late, at thirty-six, reconnecting to a childhood dream I'd talked myself out of wanting. I thought I was picking up a hobby. I wasn't.
One afternoon in a round pen, during a join-up, the horse showed me a version of myself I hadn't met yet. Not a flattering version. Not a damaged one. The actual one, underneath everything I'd built. I walked out of that pen different, because I'd finally been seen by something that couldn't be performed for.
Everything I know from fourteen years of teaching breath and body meets the horse in the round pen. The horse does the work I used to try to do with words. I translate. You leave knowing.
If this is calling you, write to me.
Every intensive begins with a conversation.
Send a note.