Equine assisted learning can help you develop a deeper understanding of yourself and others.
I’ve only just entered the round yard and, already, Jack, a 26-year-old horse, is shutting down.
“You can see how his eyes are closing,” says Sharon Kolkka, who’s leading this equine assisted learning session at Gwinganna Lifestyle Retreat in the Gold Coast hinterland.
Jack is also bowing his head and shifting uncomfortably on his feet.
It’s not the strongest start.
Earlier, Kolkka had described Jack as the “old school master”. In other words, he’s a trustworthy horse who had never bitten or kicked anyone.
“He’s a very introverted horse, though, so there’s a lot going on, on the inside,” she’d said.
“And what I’m going to do is interpret what he’s telling me about what’s going on for you.”
So here we are. Me, Kolkka, a shut-down horse, and four other participants in this small group session, watching on intently from outside the round yard.
“How are YOU feeling right now?” Kolkka asks me.
Honestly? I want to leap the fence and bolt right across Gwinganna’s 200 hectares.
“A little bit nervous,” I lie.
I don’t add that, as a girl, I never went through “a horsey phase”; that my experience with animals larger than my two dogs is virtually nil; and I have an irrational fear of being trampled to death by a large animal such as this.
What is equine assisted learning?
Despite my apprehension, something has drawn me to this three-hour equine assisted learning session where participants take it in turns to interact with Jack. (For a full review of Gwinganna Lifestyle Retreat, click here.)
By observing not just our own, but others’ reactions, we learn more about how to communicate, set boundaries, resolve conflict and seek balance.
Equine assisted learning typically unfolds as a practical, hands-on, small group session, which shines a light on personality traits, non-verbal communication styles and leadership.
It’s different to equine therapy, a more intense one-on-one experience which reveals patterns and behaviours which might be underpinning parts of your life beyond your conscious awareness.
It’s also distinct from the equine-assisted journey, one-on-one experience which draws upon the principles of the trademarked Journey Method, which seeks to understand past experiences and resolve past issues.
Back in the round yard, Kolkka knows just how to break the impasse between me and Jack.
“We want to help Jack to feel like he’s inviting you into his personal space,” she says. “So how that works is that you work on you.”
She encourages me to close my eyes and slow down my breathing; she instructs me to feel the light breeze upon my skin and visualise my feet connecting with the earth.
It all sounds a bit woo-woo, but her words encourage me to emotionally regulate. When I open my eyes again, I’m feeling much calmer, there’s been a shift in the round yard atmosphere – and in me.
“I want you to look at Jack – nothing else, just look at him,” says Kolkka.
“What we’re seeing is a different horse. It’s very subtle … but now he’s leaning towards you.”
Kolkka invites me to walk closer, and to pat Jack on the shoulder. When I do, he leans further into the touch.
I’m stunned at the physical and emotional warmth that emanates from him; his gentle, wordless acceptance of this nervous novice. I feel hot tears pricking the back of my eyes.
Kolkka is beaming at the transformation.
“He didn’t flinch,” she says. “He was comfortable with you coming into his space and all you’re doing is keeping that (emotional) regulation that you have now.”

How does equine therapy work?
The use of horses as a therapy aid dates back as far as the ancient Greeks.
Hippocrates spoke of “riding’s healing rhythm” but it wasn’t until the 1960s that the established protocols of “hippotherapy” (“hippos” being the Greek word for horse) began to be introduced as an adjunct to traditional physical therapies.
Even more recently, the potential for horses to assist with mental health treatment has also been tapped, with the Equine Assisted Growth and Learning Association (Eagala) forming in 1999.
At Gwinganna, there is a range of different programs, depending on how deep you want to go.
For example, equine-assisted meditation is unique to Gwinganna and is delivered as a one-on-one experience, with the horse providing biofeedback.
Horses are so well placed to serve as therapy partners because they are masters of non-verbal communication.
This means that humans can develop a sign language or body language with them, that helps them understand what we want them to do.
Kolkka points out that horses’ eyes are positioned on the side of their heads, revealing that, unlike us, they are prey animals.
To simply survive, then, they must remain attuned to their environment.
“They are so sensitive, they can feel a fly land on them,” Kolkka says.
Horses are also 500-kilogram, exquisitely tuned biofeedback mechanisms.
She says they can take readings of our blood pressure and heart rate to discern our emotional intentions.
“He will sense whether you’re worried, or whether you’re fearful, or whether you’re completely calm,” Kolkka adds.
“He will be different with every single person, because every single person is going to take their own physiology into their own round yard.
“For him, when we’re worried about something, it just feels uncomfortable.”
Before interacting with a horse, it’s important to ground and centre oneself, and to take those calming breaths to ensure your body isn’t swimming in adrenalin and cortisol.
“If you’re flooded with stress hormones, Jack is going to pick that up,” Kolkka adds.
“You’re the leader in here, and he’s thinking, ‘Gosh, if my leader’s worried, then maybe I should be worried.’”
We move on to me walking Jack around the round yard using a lead rope attached to his bridle.
“Pick up the rope, lean into the step, and breathe in,” she says.
I take a stride. Jack doesn’t move.
I try again, lifting my chest, taking another step, urging brightly, “Come on, Jack.”
He still won’t budge.
“Do you believe he’s going to walk with you?” Kolkka asks.
I pause. “Umm, yes,” I say, in a tentative way that means “no”.
Kolkka grins. “We’re back at the impasse now – this is a leadership test,” she says.
She instructs me on how to apply pressure on the rope until Jack yields.
“Don’t be afraid – you can’t hurt him,” she says. “More pressure, more pressure, more pressure …”
Until, finally, Jack is finally walking beside me, matching my steps, our breathing attuned.
“Do you give up asking people to do things, because it’s just easier to do it yourself?” Kolkka asks.
Guilty as charged. I’ve always struggled with delegation, especially in the face of resistance.
Kolkka uses this interaction as a teachable moment – about persisting, raising the volume, and gently upping the ante to get a desired outcome.
When we ask someone to do a task for us, it’s easy to keep on asking (“nagging”) or else ask calmly the first dozen times, and then finally explode.
“Horses are really good at teaching us that there’s a volume switch (as to) how we put pressure on to get things done on,” she says.
Observing others during equine assisted learning
There are five participants in our small equine assisted learning session and we all get our turn in the round yard.
Kolkka points out that we can learn just as much outside the round yard, by watching how others interact with Jack.
With Jessie*, Jack abruptly stops walking, and so does she. She then puts a generous arm around him, pats him, and cajoles, “What’s the matter, Jack?”
Kolkka points out that she’s rewarding him for bad behaviour.
“Do you have trouble setting and enforcing boundaries in your own life?” she asks.
This interpretation is spot on, if the expression on Jessie’s face is anything to go by.
Catherine’s* interactions with Jack reveal her tendency to micromanage, as she carefully monitors his every move.
Kolkka instead encourages her to give him a job and trust that it will be done.
It’s clear this is a new concept for Catherine. She admits she’s always anxious about her own performance being seen as poor, if she relies on others to do their thing, and they let her down.
Antonia*, meanwhile, is uncomfortable stepping up into a leadership role.
It means leaving friends behind and making tough decisions that won’t always make her popular.
She learns the value of saying, “Whether you like it or not, this is the way it’s going to be.”
Fran*, a non-executive director on multiple boards, has trouble asserting her authority.
She dislikes being seen as “hard-arsed” and so regularly gives people too much leeway and lets unacceptable situations drag on.
Through her interactions with Jack, Fran learns she can be stern and strict and sometimes that’s exactly what’s needed.
It applies when she’s reining Jack in, moving on a non-performing CEO, or asking difficult questions to expose wrongdoing.
Once Fran establishes clear boundaries, Jack revels in a new-found sense of freedom.
Respectful and playful, he thrives on the clear line in the sand she has drawn.
For all of us, though, the biggest takeaway is learning how gaining a more thorough understanding of ourselves and others can foster trust and respect.
Getting up close and personal with Jack reminds us of the value of connection, as opposed to fear, force, or coercion.
Prioritising connection over control has cultivated an environment that’s mutually rewarding.
“Often we think that we need to control the world,” Kolkka explains.
“But the greatest form of control we have is connection.”
* Not their real names