Minds-n-Motion: Pferdeunterstützte/Equine Assisted Trauma Therapie

13/04/2026

The meeting of two worlds - when Fantasy Meets Reality?

I’ve spoken many times about “two worlds”, the human and the equine world, and this is one way I’ve come to understand it more clearly.

Much of what we, as humans, deal with internally does not take place in the present moment. It lives in memory, in anticipation, in interpretation. That does not deny that something happened or that the future matters. It simply means that what we experience is always filtered through our own perception.

Two people can share the same situation and leave with entirely different experiences. The difference is not in what happened, but in what each one attends to, what each one makes of it, what each one brings into it.

This is the space where psychology and psychotherapy largely operate. They meet a person in that inner world. In what is remembered, anticipated, feared, or believed. The work is to understand it, to relate to it, to find ways of living with it.

And then there are the horses.

They do not meet us in that same space. They do not respond to our explanations, our histories, or our expectations. They respond to what is present. To posture, movement, tension, orientation, distance, timing. To what is actually happening.

This is where something shifts.

Because what remains internal for us becomes visible in how we are. And the horse responds to that, directly and without reference to the story behind it.

But this is also where the challenge begins.

As practitioners, we are trained to work with the inner world. To interpret, to connect, to make meaning. That habit does not simply disappear when we step into the field. It comes with us.

And it can easily pull the work back into the very space the horse is not in.

If the focus moves too quickly into explanation, into narrative, into what something “means,” we leave the level at which the horse is actually participating.

The benefit of working with horses is not automatic.

It depends on whether we are able to stay with what is concrete. With what can be seen. With what is happening in real time.

When attention remains there, something else becomes possible.

The human inner world does not disappear, but it is no longer the only reference point. It is anchored in observable interaction. It becomes something that can be seen in movement, in distance, in timing, in change.

And only there does the idea of “two worlds” begin to hold.

Not as a concept, but as an actual meeting.

One that includes the human perspective, and one that does not lose the horse.

© Ilka Parent / Minds-n-Motion

12/04/2026

Evening thoughts:

Understanding why equine assisted and facilitated services hold on to certain concepts, even as behavioral science becomes more precise, requires looking at human perception as much as at the horse.

Most practitioners do not lack information. They have been exposed to different perspectives, including the view of the horse as a sentient, autonomous being. At the same time, many have been trained within models that assign the horse a role: healer, mirror, co-therapist. These roles do not only structure the work. They shape perception. What is observed is filtered through what has been learned to be meaningful.

This is where cognitive bias becomes relevant. Information that aligns with established frameworks is more readily integrated. Information that challenges those frameworks is often minimized or reinterpreted. Not deliberately, but as a way to maintain coherence.

From there, cognitive dissonance emerges. If the horse is no longer understood as the one who heals or carries therapeutic intent, then previous experiences and practices have to be reconsidered. The meaning of what has been felt and facilitated shifts. This is not a purely technical adjustment. It affects how one understands one’s own work.

At the same time, equine assisted and facilitated settings are often built around self-experience. In trainings and certification processes, emotional responses are not incidental; they are central. What is felt in these moments can be strong and convincing. The difficulty arises when this internal experience is attributed to the horse, and the horse is positioned as the source of what is, in fact, a product of the interactional system.

Letting go of that attribution changes the structure.

The horse is no longer the one who “does something” for the client.
The practitioner is no longer the one who facilitates through the horse.
The client is no longer positioned as a recipient of something the horse provides.

This is where a different organization becomes necessary. One in which horse, client, mental health professional, and equine specialist are understood as distinct and capable participants. Not identical in role, but not arranged within a hierarchy that assigns function to one in service of another.

Following this through requires a reconsideration of one’s own position. Not only conceptually, but behaviorally. How space is entered, how movement is initiated, how timing is handled, how meaning is assigned. The focus shifts from interpretation to observation, from narrative to interaction.

This shift does not occur in isolation.

Certification systems and larger organizations depend on models that are teachable, replicable, and marketable. Assigning roles to the horse creates clarity and supports communication. It also stabilizes professional identity and economic viability. Moving away from these structures introduces uncertainty, both conceptually and practically.

The hesitation to change is therefore not surprising.

It reflects the interaction of cognitive processes, experiential learning, and external pressures. Accepting a different perspective is not only about integrating new knowledge. It requires allowing the implications of that knowledge to reorganize how the work is understood and practiced.

What emerges from this is not a rejection of experience, but a relocation of it. The focus moves from what the horse is assumed to provide to what is actually taking place between all involved.

This demands precision, restraint, and a willingness to remain with what is observable, even when it no longer aligns with established narratives.

It also requires a shift in orientation: from maintaining a system that explains the work, to examining the conditions under which the work occurs.

That is where a different form of practice begins.

12/04/2026

I offer a series of online courses in pEATT - psychodynamic Equine Assisted Traumatherapy, addressing the fundamentals of this work, trauma, and especially seeing and working with horses. These courses were recorded about six years ago.

As most of you know, working with horses does not stand still. Even when the underlying principles and structures remain the same, each interaction continues to shape how we understand and communicate what is happening. Looking back at these recordings, I can see that clearly. The content holds and is, I believe, helpful for anybody working in the field of equine assisted/facilitated services. However, the language has moved on.

For that reason, all courses will be re-recorded in due time.
Before taking the courses down, they will be available at a significantly reduced price, with an additional coupon that can be applied.

The online courses are offered as self-study in German, English, and French. The intervision component that is referenced throughout the material will not be part at this price.

Access will remain available until the end of this year (Dec. 2026). After that, the courses will be taken down and replaced.

If you are interested in the content in its current form, you can use the code:

FINALBEFOREUPDATE

You can enroll here: https://mindsnmotionacademy.teachable.com/l/products?sortKey=name&sortDirection=asc&page=1

Browse the Minds-n-Motion Academy product catalog to explore and discover available products.

12/04/2026

I wonder how many people will actually read this, and how many will simply react to the image.

Because images like this don’t need much explanation. They land immediately. Something in us responds. We recognize the moment, the closeness, the quiet intensity. Many will have experienced something similar in trainings, certification courses, or sessions centered around self experience. Moments that feel real, meaningful, sometimes even profound.

And that is where it becomes more complex.

What is felt in those moments is ours. It happens within us. Yet very quickly, that experience is attributed outward. The horse becomes the one who understood, who held, who responded. From there, meaning is no longer only felt. It is assigned. And once assigned, perception follows.

This is not about intention. It is how perception stabilizes itself, especially after strong experience. What feels convincing becomes explanatory. Over time, this is reinforced through training structures, certification models, and the language used to describe the work. The horse as healer, mirror, or co-therapist creates coherence. It makes the work understandable - and fixes the position of the horse in advance.

Even when the horse is described as a sentient, independent being, the underlying structure often remains unchanged. The horse still carries a role within a human-centered framework. That is where the discrepancy sits - with consequences. If the horse is not the one who heals or understands in the way it is described, then the focus shifts back. Toward the situation itself, and toward those participating in it. And how we actually work in EAP/EFT.

There is a growing body of behavioral science describing how horses perceive and respond. It does not rely on symbolic roles or therapeutic intent. It points to interaction: movement, timing, orientation, distance, environmental context and real interactions. Observable, repeatable processes.

Taking that seriously would require moving away from interpretation toward description. Taking that seriously would require how we ourselves interact with our horses. That is not a minor adjustment. It challenges how "see" and interact with our own horses, and then how the work is structured, taught, and communicated.

Which is why I believe the hesitation remains.

Not because the information is missing, but because following it through would change more than the explanation. It would change the system that holds the explanation in place.

Images like this make that visible. They show how quickly meaning is assigned, and how naturally that assignment becomes the reality we work within.

Questioning that does not take anything away from the experience. It changes what we do with it.

© Ilka Parent / Minds-n-Motion

11/04/2026

When we, as practitioners, say “let’s regulate first before we enter the field or are in the field,” we are not just offering a tool. We are implicitly setting a frame.

In that frame, regulation becomes a prerequisite. And with that, the focus shifts to the self as something that needs to be brought into a “right” state first.

Even if unintended, the message is there: something in me is not okay yet. I need to fix myself before I can participate.

This is where we implicitly reinforce an imbalance.

Because the moment attention turns inward in that way, the person is no longer fully available to what is actually happening. The situation is already unfolding. The horses are already responding. The field is already active.

But the person is occupied with him-or herself. Unresponsive to what is happening around.

And this has a direct consequence:
their capacity to respond is reduced.

The horses do not wait for a regulated human. They respond to what is there.

So everything that shows up, tension, hesitation, withdrawal, moving forward, is already part of the interaction. It does not need to be corrected first. It is visible. And it is responded to.

If we now add a structure that says “first regulate, then enter,” we strengthen exactly what we do not want to strengthen.

We bind the person to self focus, to evaluation, to correction.
And in doing so, we limit their responsiveness, their ability to respond to what is actually present.

This is the point.

Not that regulation is wrong.
But that making it a prerequisite shifts the entire organization of attention.

In pEATT, this is handled differently.

There is no “first regulate, then participate.” The interaction begins the moment we step into the field. The dynamic of EVERYTHING is considered/observed/paid attention to.

Nothing has to be changed in advance in order to be part of it.
Everything that is there is already in contact, and within that contact, it can shift.

The task is not to fix oneself first in order to relate.
The task is to become aware of what is happening in the interaction and allow one’s own responsiveness to be present and develop there.

And that requires precision from us as practitioners.

Because the way we set the frame either reinforces the idea that something is wrong with the person,
or it supports their capacity to be in interaction without needing to fix themselves first.

That is the structural difference between pEATT and other equine assisted approaches.

11/04/2026

Stabilization Group, second session

Following the previous session, where observation was the focus, participants began this session by formulating one to two sentences describing what they were bringing into the session. The themes named included safety, awareness, presence, expectation, and evaluation. One of the sentences already contained a limitation, which was examined within the group.

During the check in, the horses were standing in a relaxed state. When the topic of safety was introduced, one horse showed visible physical tension.

Afterwards, eleven people entered the field. Their positioning was similar to the previous session. Most individuals remained along the outer edges, often with a tree or the fence behind them. Some movement occurred, but the distance to the horses was not reduced.

In contrast to the previous session, the horses moved more freely within the space. The pony remained in continuous movement, grazing and using the area. The larger horse maintained physical tension, responded to environmental noises, repeatedly turned head and neck fully toward the sources, and moved toward them. He urinated, defecated, and scratched himself. He did not approach any person. At times, spatial proximity occurred, while distance was maintained by both sides. No outstretched hands were observed.

Over time, the tension in the larger horse visibly decreased. The pony repeatedly moved in his direction. Initially, the larger horse increased the distance. As the tension decreased, the distance remained unchanged. Parallel movement patterns became observable. Both horses showed aligned behaviors such as grazing, standing, and orienting, while maintaining distance.

In the final check out, participants reported that their attention had shifted more toward external influences. Environmental noises were weighted differently, while other stimuli, such as the sound of grazing, were perceived more clearly. The ground was experienced more intensely. Observations of the horses were described as more accurate. It was stated that engaging with the present moment initially felt uncertain, and that over time a physical sense of relaxation became noticeable.

When the group left the field, no change in the horses’ behavior was observed.

And no - we did not go into symbolism - and, as described in the post of “the meeting of two worlds” we focused on what the horses actually bring (by their responsiveness) to the session.

Next week will be about “connection”. Can you see the red thread developing?

© Ilka Parent / Minds-n-Motion

07/04/2026

Birds of a feather flock together…

People want to be seen. To be acknowledged. To be validated.

But being seen is not a one-sided process: It requires an “other” who sees - the ability to see.

And this is where things go haywire.

When the need to be seen is so strong, the focus is toward one’s own experience, one’s own needs.

From there, something predictable happens.

We begin to look for similarity: for people who feel the same, think the same, confirm what we already experience.

“Birds of a feather flock together..”

This creates a sense of alignment and of
being understood.

But this alignment is not based on actually perceiving the other.

It is based on recognizing ourselves in them.

Because of that, there is suddenly an “opposite”: those who don’t feel the same, have not had similar experiences, are “different”.

If connection is built on sameness, then difference becomes a problem. The “other” becomes the contrast that holds the group together.

This is how polarization develops.

Not necessarily from disagreement,
but from the absence of actually seeing each other.

But without that shift towards “seeing the other”, we don’t meet.

Horses are different. They respond to what is actually there.

© Ilka Parent / Minds-n-Motion

06/04/2026

“There is something wrong with me”

A feeling that most people seeking therapeutic services have…

Helping is one of the most unquestioned foundations in how we relate to others.

We help children. We help clients. We help horses. We regulate, guide, support, intervene where something appears off or not yet in place.

This reflects a familiar organization: one who knows, one who learns; one who supports, one who receives support.

In psychotherapeutic and equine-assisted work, this often takes a specific form. The focus turns toward the self. Regulating emotions, managing somatic experience, becoming aware, adjusting responses. It is framed as a prerequisite for contact, as if something in me needs to be brought into the right state before I can meet the other.

What remains implicit is the starting point.

“There is something wrong with me.”

If the structure then confirms that work needs to be done on the self in order to relate, this premise is not questioned. It is reinforced.

Even when the immediate effect is increased awareness or improved regulation, the underlying message can remain unchanged: I am not there yet. I need to do better.

This shifts attention.

If I am occupied with regulating myself, monitoring what is happening internally, then my reference point remains myself. Not the interaction. Not what is unfolding between beings, but what I need to do in order to engage.

At the same time, the underlying structure does not change.

There is still one who guides and one who is guided. One who defines what “regulated” looks like and one who is expected to move toward it. Even when subtle, this creates direction. And direction establishes difference. An imbalance.

It does not require intention to create imbalance. It is already built into the roles.

Contrary to popular belief, horses do not have that hierarchy.

If contact is approached from within a structure that already defines who needs to adjust and who defines the direction of that adjustment, and if that structure reinforces a starting point of “something in me is not right”—

what does that do to the possibility of actually meeting another being without that predefined difference?

© Ilka Parent / Minds-n-Motion

05/04/2026

Why I keep coming back to this topic of “seeing the horse”

I’m not writing this because I reject the field of equine assisted work. I don’t. There is a lot of valuable knowledge, many committed practitioners, and approaches that matter.

But there is something I keep running into that I cannot ignore.

For most of us, relating to the world starts with thinking. We analyze, interpret, and try to understand before we respond.

At the same time, this is not how we begin interacting with the world.

As living beings, we are in continuous exchange with our environment. Perception, movement, and response are not separate—they are part of one ongoing interaction. Early in life, this is still intact. There is no clear split between what we experience and how we respond to it.

Through socialization, we learn to adapt. And within that process, thinking becomes more dominant. What can be explained, interpreted, and understood cognitively moves to the foreground.

This is necessary.

But it also comes with a price.

The more we organize ourselves around cognition, the more direct exchange with what is actually happening moves into the background. And this is not just individual—it is built into how our systems work. Education, communication, and professional frameworks all reinforce this emphasis. From what I have come to know of existing programs and teachings within the equine assisted field, this same weighting is there as well.

This is where my focus on the horse comes in.

Because horses—as well as other non-human beings—remain in continuous contact with their entire environment. Perception, movement, and response are not separated for them. They are part of one ongoing process. A flow. A natural state of being within the environment rather than relating to it from a distance.

When the horse is truly met as a horse, as a fundamentally different being, not organized through our interpretation or other cognitive processes, something becomes possible for us. When the encounter is no longer organized around what we think about it, but around what is actually taking place, perception, movement, and response come back into relation, not as separate steps, but as part of the same ongoing process. What becomes accessible in that moment is not something new, it is a way of being in exchange that has always been there, but that has moved into the background for us humans.

And with that, the possibility of contact, not only with ourselves, but with what is actually there, all around us, can happen again.

And this is why I keep coming back to the horse, why I keep writing, why I believe so much in working with horses.
© Ilka Parent/Minds-n-Motion

05/04/2026

Stabilization Group First Session - an estimated Horse perspective

Before anyone entered the field, both horses were already engaged with their surroundings. They were positioned at the far end of the pasture, moving, orienting, and adjusting to what was around them. Attention was not fixed on one thing. It shifted continuously across space, objects, and each other.

Then something changed.

Humans were visible outside the field, partly covered by trees and shrubs. Movement and visual input in the environment increased. Shortly after, ten humans entered the field. With that, the situation in the field changed clearly.

There were more moving elements.
Space was occupied differently.
Attention from multiple points was directed toward the horses.

The humans spread out along the outer edges of the field. Most kept similar distances from each other. Several stood with a tree or the fence behind them. Movement decreased. Positions became stable. From that moment on, the field contained a ring of mostly still bodies along the perimeter, all oriented toward the inside.

The smaller horse began to move: She walked forward to the hay feeder and stopped there. She did not eat.

What was visible instead:

She stood.
She shifted her head position.
She changed orientation.
She remained visually engaged with the surroundings with continuous small adjustments in body posture, tension and attention.

The larger horse followed at first, then moved toward the trees and rubbed against the tree surfaces. He moved between trees, approached objects.
At one point, he moved around a tree where a person was standing, briefly coming into proximity and then continuing.

All of these movements happened within the space that included trees, people, and open areas, not focused on one element alone.

Over the 45 minutes, both horses remained active in this way. They did not move constantly across the entire field, but they did not disengage either: what changed was where they were, where they oriented, and how they used space.

At the end of the session, the humans left the field. With that, the situation changed again: The number of moving elements decreased. The directed attention toward the horses was removed and more open space became available.

The smaller horse began to move again: She left the feeder and moved through the field, covering more space than before.

This shift happened directly after the humans exited.

At the same time, one pattern on the human side had been consistent throughout: Most people stayed at the outer edge. Many kept something behind their back, like a tree or the fence. Few stepped into the center. There was little movement.

This created a clear structure in the field: a consistent outer line, and a relatively empty center.

The horses changed position, orientation, and movement in relation to what was present in the environment. The humans were part of that environment.

Nothing more is needed to describe what happened.

Now - as the question was: getting to know each other - how would you describe who initiated contact - how was that responded to - what conversation developed? From a HORSE perspective?

05/04/2026

Stabilization Group First Session

“She was frozen.”

This was one of the descriptions of the small pony during the session.

Another participant observed,
“At the beginning she was moving, but then she stood by the hay feeder and stopped.”

The group had been given 45 minutes to observe.

No tasks.
No interpretation.
Just watching, and noticing what interferes internally while watching.

The setting was defined clearly from the beginning: This is a meeting of two worlds.

On the human side, narrative, experience, interpretation.
On the side of the horses, behavior organized in the present.

Eight participants entered the field. What became visible was not only the horses.

Participants positioned themselves almost precisely along the outer edges of the field with similar distances between each person. Many with a tree, or the fence, at their back.

Structure.

One horse moved between people.
One horse remained at the hay feeder.

“Frozen.”

And yet, when looked at more closely, she was not immobile. She was not eating. She was in continuous exchange with her environment. She was responding.

After 45 minutes, the group checked in.

One participant described pages of thoughts, constant internal input, making it difficult to observe.

Another reported discomfort when not following her thoughts, but instead staying with what was around her.

Emotional responses occurred when horses approached. These were acknowledged, but not explored further.

The focus remained: What happens - what interferes - when we meet an other?

At the end of the session, as the group left the field, the pony began to move again. Moving through the entire field.

What stood out was not only the horses.

Participants had placed themselves with structure behind them. Trees. Fence lines.

Safety became visible - observable.

At the same time, some described a need to be closer to others. The need to belong became visible - observable.

What was later named in words had already been observable in the field - not by symbolism and association, but by action.

04/04/2026

Stabilization group
“Framing” is important…
The way we work with beings is so different. We address from the beginning, what we do NOT do.
There is rule of “do not touch”.
We do not explore internal processes in the stabilization group, because that so often “gets out of hand” and turns into psychology.
Look at the words: “gets out of hand”…. When we enter the mind and explore that, we are no longer with the horses.
“Hands on” …
Experiential.

That is the setup for so many in the EAP/EAL/EAF field - and yet we talk, talk, talk….

I am reposting the two picture from a few days ago - and invite you to think about what you understand by “hands on” - “getting out of hand” - and what the horse actually invites us to “do”?
On a side note: I am so grateful for the human team I work with who will primarily accompany the group today ♥️