The Invitation of the Field an equine assisted reiki session.

The Invitation of the Field - A client's personal story

The morning air carried the scent of damp earth and fresh grass as Jo-Hana stood at the edge of the field, her breath shallow, her thoughts tangled. She had arrived carrying a weight that had become all too familiar—the invisible burden of expectations, the relentless pull of responsibilities, the quiet ache of something missing.

Beside me, Gandalf and Bear grazed in the stillness, their presence grounding and unwavering.

“Horses are masters of presence,” I said, my voice gentle, though I knew the truth of it ran far deeper than words could capture. “They live in the moment, responding to the energy around them without pretense or judgment.”

I guided my client, Jo-Hana, through a simple mindfulness exercise, inviting her to feel the earth beneath her feet, to notice the rhythm of her breath, to let the noise of the outside world settle into the background. She closed her eyes briefly, then exhaled, a long, steady release.

The moment she softened, Bear lifted his head and turned toward her. His ears flicked forward, reading her energy in a way only horses can.

“He sees me,” she whispered. “Not the version of you shaped by expectations or titles, but the part of you that exists beneath all of that.” I replied.

A flicker of hesitation crossed her face. “It’s… unsettling,” she admitted. “Being seen so clearly.”

I understood. Horses don’t acknowledge the masks we wear; they respond to what is, not what we pretend to be. And in that moment, Bear was offering her an invitation—to be fully present, to step beyond the thoughts and anxieties that had followed her into the field.

“Don’t try to be anything,” I said. “Just be here.”

She inhaled again, this time with more ease, and Bear took a step closer. Not demanding, not expecting—just present. The invitation was hers to accept.

Personal Reflection: Seeing Ourselves Clearly

There is something deeply unsettling about being truly seen. Without our masks, without the carefully curated roles we play, who are we? Horses don’t care about our titles, accomplishments, or the armour we’ve built to protect ourselves from the world. They respond only to what is present in the moment—our energy, emotions, and intentions.

When I first began this work, I wasn’t prepared for the honesty horses demand. They don’t judge, but they also don’t lie. If I entered the field carrying stress or doubt, they knew. If I tried to hide my emotions, they felt the tension. And when I allowed myself to be fully present, to soften, to breathe—they responded in kind.

It took time to realise that self-awareness isn’t about control. It’s about recognition. Recognising the emotions we carry, the thoughts that shape our experience, and the energy we bring into every interaction. It’s about understanding where our influence ends and where acceptance must begin.

Personal Reflection: The Field Within Us

For years, I have stood in the quiet presence of horses, watching them respond to the unspoken emotions of the people who step into their space. A horse doesn’t care about the story we tell ourselves—the polished version we present to the world. They sense what’s beneath the surface.

I’ve seen it time and time again. A woman, tense with unprocessed grief, watches as a horse keeps his distance—mirroring the walls she has built around her heart. A man, exhausted from carrying the weight of expectations, stands before a horse who exhales deeply, reflecting his need to let go. And then, there are moments of surrender—when a person drops their mask, takes a deep breath, and simply is. That’s when the horse steps forward. That’s when the connection happens.

This work isn’t about fixing. It’s about remembering—remembering who we are when we strip away the noise, the expectations, the pressure to be something other than ourselves. Horses guide us back to that sacred place where healing begins.

I know this because they did it for me first.

Harvey, Nell, and Buddy—each of them came to me carrying their own past wounds, their own need for healing. In their eyes, I saw my own pain reflected back at me. We walked that journey together, finding peace not through force or control, but through presence, trust, and the quiet unfolding of time. They were my first messengers of unconditional love, acceptance, and healing. They showed me what it meant to truly see another being, without judgment, without expectation—just pure presence.

Now, Gandalf and Bear continue that work alongside me, offering the same wisdom to others. To horse owners struggling to connect with their animals. To people weighed down by stress and anxiety. To those who feel lost and unheard.

The field is always an invitation—to slow down, to listen, to step into a space where healing isn’t forced, but found.

Self-Awareness Exercise: Coming Back to the Field

Step 1: Arriving in the Present

Take a deep breath. Feel the air move in and out of your lungs.

Imagine you are standing in a vast, open field, much like the one where my horses and I work. The ground beneath you is solid. The breeze is soft.

Step 2: What Are You Carrying?

Close your eyes and check in with yourself.

What are you holding onto right now? Stress? Doubt? Fear? Hope?

Picture a horse standing beside you, quietly observing. How would they respond to your energy? Would they step closer or keep their distance?

Step 3: The Boundaries of Influence

Imagine a circle drawn around you in the grass. Inside this circle are the things within your control:

Your breath

Your energy

Your response to the world around you

The way you speak to yourself

Outside the circle are the things beyond your control:

The past

The opinions of others

The actions of people around you

With each inhale, draw your awareness inward, into what is yours. With each exhale, release what does not belong to you.

Step 4: Coming Home to Yourself

Open your eyes and notice how you feel.

This is what an equine assisted reiki session feels like, as you carry this awareness with you throughout your day. The field of self-awareness is not just a physical space—it is a state of being.