Why Parelli?

One of my favorite story topics is why people chose Parelli. This is my story.


I took riding lessons regularly from the time I was 4 until I was about 13. I was taught traditional English. Jam your heels down, keep your back straight, lean forward, kick to go, pull to stop. I loved horses but didn't much care for the other riders. They were mean, vindictive, superficial and judgemental. Most of them seemed to enjoy getting pissed off with their horses and smacking them in the face than actually riding. Others could NOT comprehend the world WOULD keep turning if they didn't talk smack about everyone at the barn they hated, including their best friends, for one day.

As much as I enjoyed the actual activity of riding (especially jumping!), a lot of what I was taught did not make sense to me. Instructors told me horses were extremely stupid animals and it would always take all your strength just to make them move over. I was told the classic "teach him who's boss," and was ordered to take jumps or keep riding horses that scared me. I also didn't like how I was taught to lead - you know, holding the leadrope at the clasp. They said you had better control over the horses that way. Sorry, I'm 9 years old trying to drag a 17h TB to the barn by the throat latch, either I was getting trampled or I was getting dragged. It used to terrify me to just run into a pasture to catch a horse.

Apparently I was a very good rider by traditional English AND Western standards. On a vacation at a dude ranch in Wyoming when I was 10, I took 1st place in the ranch gymkhana (sp?). Back home, my trainers (2 of whom rode on the US team) begged my mother to put me in shows. She refused and I hated her for it. 15 years later, I thank her for it. I am a sensitive baby who takes everything far too personally and I was pushed around enough at the barns (looking back, it was probably out of jealousy), showing may have traumatized me from horses for life. Be that as it was, when the daughter of the BO where I was riding at the time tried beating me up on the soccer field because she was furious after hearing her trainer say I was "spectacular," I stopped riding regularly. I was fed up with the obnoxious riders. I was also fed up with the back pain, the buckets of sweat I poured in the dead of winter trying to keep difficult horses under control, fed up with feeling like so many lessons turned into control battles that I would ultimately lose because even if I got the horse to submit, the horse would want nothing to do with me next week. I adore horses with all my heart and to have one run away from me because I rode him would just kill me. So I visited people's properties, gave pats, fed carrots, went on some trail rides to tide me over. Still, I always yearned for the day when I would have a horse of my own and learn to REALLY enjoy riding. More so, I wanted a relationship where my horse would do anything for me as I would do anything for him.

When we decided to move to Vegas, Mom and I decided we wanted to get back into the equine world. She had owned horses before me and her own story is dotted with accidents, traumas, and experiences that drove her to merely admire horses from afar for over 20 years. We planned to share a nice brick house QH or Arabian that she would groom and I would barrel race. "No Thoroughbreds," she insisted.

Right after I made it out west (she and my stepdad moved out the year before I did), Mom bought a book called "Natural Horse*Man*Ship."

"It was very interesting, she told me, "and the stuff this guy says about horses and why they do some of the things they do makes so much more sense than what they taught us back east."
A few weeks later, she bought us tickets to the Natural Horsemanship Tour Stop being held at one of the casinos.

"If this is just some exhibition about why these peoples' horses are better than everyone's, I'm gonna be seriously bored," I sneered. Oh, how our foot can bleed when we shoot it with a bazooka. Watching Linda take Remmer for a spin around the arena bareback with a halter made me cry. They looked the way I always wanted to be with a horse - completely united. By the end of the second day, Mom and I were hooked. We had barely slept for 2 nights because we were so excited thinking about how we HAD to get into this method Pat and Linda were teaching. A week later, we were in the Savvy Club. We met an unbelievably generous woman who opened the doors to her ranch and gave us free reign with her horses and her Parelli equipment. Without her, we either never would have been able to progress the way we have, or we would have been playing Porcupine in the bushes to avoid criticism and ridicule. We have been EXTREMELY lucky to have been able to practice Parelli in open-minded, NH oriented ranches. Shiloh, where we board Jet, hosted a clinic back in February which we both participated in and cannot WAIT till our instructor comes back (3 Star Trainer Marc Rea, huzzah) to Vegas so we can put Jet through some hard-core playtime.

The rest is history. To date, Mom and I have Level Two knowledge but since Jet has been raised traditional, albeit treated VERY well and loved by his past owners, we are at back at Level 1. Since we started following Pat's theories over a year ago, we have had less frustrating and lousy horse days than the first 20 years we spent with horses. At least now when something goes wrong, we understand why - we didn't communicate correctly, we acted like predators, etc. We understand horse psychology runs far deeper than "they bein' dumb ass, spooky animals." It continues to thrill me now when I put Pat's teachings to the test and they work. It constantly reminds me why I chose PNH - because his psychology and methods make the MOST SENSE. So much of what he preaches seem like such no-brainers, but then again, 5 years ago, if my horse was a jerk for the farrier, it probably wouldn't have occured to me that it was MY responsibility to teach the horse to behave. After exhausting efforts to get his feet cleaned, I would be relieved to get a hoof-finicky horse off my hands for a while while the farrier dealt with him (yes, I am a bratty, rude little witch. Let it go). Dur. Jet acted like a clown ONCE about his feet. He kept trying to give Mom a wedgie. She set up a body block and the next time Jet went to bite, his nose bonked into her poised elbow (she didn't ELBOW him, she just had it raised so that he would hit it himself). He now lifts his feet like a gentleman. It's just one example of how Parelli has opened our eyes in ways we never thought possible. Steering us into the mindset that it is all about the communication and putting our principles before our goals has been monumental. Also, plain and simple...it's FUN!

As for my barrel racing plans, nix. It's fun to watch, but I've never been particularly competitve. I also thought I would make the switch to Western when I moved to Cowboy Country, but that went out the window when I realized I MUCH preferred English, and I'll be an English rider till the day I die, so there. There are no plans for Jet to train for shows. Jet had a job. He was a racehorse. He's earned the right to just be loved and be a horse. All I want him to do is be my best friend/partner/therapist. When I walk into Jet's pasture, call his name, and he abandons his hay to walk across the field to nuzzle my shoulder...that's all that matters. It's all about the relationship.