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I have a galley kitchen designed for one person at a time. So I do everything I can to keep other people out of “my space” when I’m getting a meal ready. My family isn’t a problem. They get it. Even the dogs get it and know the exact floor tile they cannot move beyond. But often company doesn’t get it. Some people think they’re helping, piling plates on top of each other in the sink or trying to pack away food despite my saying, “Let me get that.” They disregard me, saying, “I’ll just do these dishes...” It’s all I can do to avoid yelling, “NO YOU WON'T!” Don’t get me wrong. I love having company, but I like for them to stay safely at the table in the other room while I’m trying to get my thoughts together and make sure I don’t forget the rolls in the oven. I don’t want to be dishing up dessert while avoiding a caravan of ladies clearing the table. And when I’m sitting down, sipping coffee and visiting, I don’t want other people jumping up to “help me” in my kitchen. I’ve worked hard to earn time to sit with my guests, and I want them to sit there enjoying the time with me, too. I truly appreciate the offer of help, but I also appreciate it when someone respects my answer. “What does this have to do with horses?” you might ask. Well, people who are hard wired with that helpful gene I’ve described approach their horses with the same mindless motion. Instead of letting a horse stand quietly, they fuss with him, teaching him to be in their space at all times. Instead of tightening the cinch once, they check it a zillion times, adjusting it each time. Meanwhile, they’re talking non-stop and not really paying attention to what they’re doing. They do the same in the saddle, fussing with reins and making random movements that accompany their chatter. I’m not suggesting that people have to be on duty every time they’re with their horse or they can’t smooch with him. But when the rider is so busy petting or talking that they’re not able to clearly communicate to the horse what they want, they teach the horse to tune them out. Then, when the horse disregards the rider, the rider usually takes it personally, not realizing what’s going on. Those people who insist on helping with the dishes don’t intend to be rude or run over me. They’re just so set in their pattern they don’t take in my answer, or take me seriously. They do the same thing when asking a trainer a question, all the while petting their horse and explaining what happened the last time they tried to do this or that. If you find yourself someplace in the above picture, the solution is to pause, and to be intentional in what you do. If you want to help, listen to what the person you’re offering to help is saying. Ask yourself if you are moving just because you want to move, or do you really want to help. When you’re with your horse, be intentional in your communication. You probably don’t realize that you’re talking non-stop with your body language. In a recent lunch get together, I laughingly told a friend to “take a breath.” We all had a good chuckle, as she was having a grand old time chatting away, not realizing that everyone was waiting for her so we could begin eating. Next time you find yourself on auto-pilot, stuck in perpetual motion, take a breath. Then smile. Now you can be of real help to yourself, your host, or your horse.
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