What a stubborn horse taught me about leading people
A horse knows what you’re feeling before you know it yourself.
Pull the reins too tight and the animal fights you. Let them hang slack and the animal decides where you’re both going. Somewhere between those two is the grip that works, and finding it is the whole job.
That’s leadership. That’s parenting. That’s most of life.
The Question Every Rancher Asks
My dad took my sister and me riding in the desert outside Las Vegas when we were kids. I learned the basics out there, and some things I learned the hard way. I was thrown more than once.
Years later, I still rode when the opportunity arose. I even took my own family riding, and we were fortunate to be able to send our girls go to horse camp a couple summers when they were young.
Before a trail ride, the rancher asks a simple question: how much experience do you have? It isn’t small talk. The answer determines which horse you get. Match a green rider with a maverick and someone ends up in the dirt.
I answer honestly and lean toward humility. Round down. Take the calmer animal.
One morning I rode with a friend who gave the rancher a very different impression. He talked like a man who’d spent years in the saddle. He hadn’t.
The gap didn’t show up at the trailhead. It showed up at the halfway point.
Overstating what you can do costs you nothing on day one. It costs everyone something later, at the exact moment the situation needs a steady hand.
A Horse Reads Fear Faster Than Words
About midway through the ride, my friend’s horse got stubborn and decided he’d rather be back at the stable eating.
My friend pulled the reins tight and gave him a kick.
The horse bucked. My friend’s eyes went wide as saucers. He moved to turn the animal and push him forward, but by then the horse had already read him. Fear travels down the reins faster than any command.
Game over.
People do the same thing. They don’t respond to what a leader announces in a meeting. They respond to what they sense in the leader’s body, tone, and hesitation. Messages don’t move people. Felt consistency does.
That’s a lesson I shared in The Monday the Room went Quiet. Your team knows whether you’re steady before you finish your first sentence.
Someone Has to Take the Reins
We had two options. Ride back to the barn, or switch horses and see whether I could settle the horse he was riding so we could keep going.
Getting off a horse that wants to run home carries risk, so I dismounted first. Then I held his horse steady while he climbed down. Standing next to the horse where he could see me, I talked to him the entire time and stroked his neck to keep him calm.
Notice the order. I took the risk before I asked my friend to take it.
That’s the part many leaders often skip. It’s easy to tell someone to get down from a difficult situation. It’s harder to be standing alongside first, holding steady, so they can.
His horse let me mount without a fuss. Then I asked him to move, which was a different story.
Firm Words, Then a Hand on the Neck
He reared on his hind legs. Twice.
I leaned forward and held on. When he came down, I settled him, and the second he stood quiet I praised him. He bucked again. I answered with a few firm words. He settled. More praise.
That rhythm went on for a while. In the moment, it was all about establishing trust, not dominance. Looking back, I realized it was leadership in action.
Firmness alone would’ve escalated the fight. Warmth alone would’ve handed him his preferred trail, which was back to the barn. He needed both, from the same person, in the same minute.
Rigor is what you know. Radiance is what they feel. A leader carrying only one of them is riding with a single rein.
Watch the Tree Limbs
Once we were moving forward again, the horse had a new idea. He started drifting toward a stand of low tree limbs, close enough to scrape me off and finish what the bucking started.
It’s a predictable behavior a horse sometimes uses to test a rider. I saw it coming and steered him clear.
Resistance gets creative. When the obvious moves stop working, people, like horses, look for the quiet ones. The passive skip. The meeting that keeps getting rescheduled. The decision that somehow never reaches your desk.
Leaders who are present see the limbs coming. Leaders who are checked out get scraped off and wonder what happened.
After that, the stubborn horse settled in. We had a great ride. We even ended it with a short gallop when the stable came into view.
The Rancher Smiled and Said Nothing
When we arrived back at the stable, the rancher looked at me and then the horse I was riding. He looked back at me and smiled. He didn’t say a word.
He didn’t need to. He’d sized up both riders at the gate, and he’d watched two horses come home in the right order.
Some of the best recognition you’ll ever get arrives with no applause attached. The work is its own evidence. If you’re leading for the ovation, you’ll spend a career disappointed. If you’re leading to be of service of those in your care, you’ll get the smile, and it’ll be enough.
How I Take the Reins Before the Day Starts
Here’s a practice I’ve built over the last few years.
After mediation and prayers, but before I touch my to-do list, I say three affirmations out loud:
“I wake today with strength in my heart and clarity in my mind.”
“I’m guided in my every step by God who leads me toward what I must know and do.”
“I take actions each day that bring my dreams into reality.”
Read them again and you’ll see there’s the whole framework sitting there. Strength in the heart is radiance. Clarity in the mind is rigor. Guidance names the purpose underneath both. And the third line turns all of it into action, which is where virtue either lives or evaporates.
Confidence grounded in guidance feels steady. Confidence manufactured on your own feels forced, and horses and people can tell the difference.
Parting Thoughts
I’ve thought about that ride many times since.
My friend wasn’t a bad guy or even a bad rider. He’d overstated where he was, and the trail found him out. That happens to all of us at some point, me included, and the fix isn’t shame. The fix is answering the rancher honestly next time.
Taking the reins doesn’t mean taking control. It means offering direction the people traveling with you can understand and then follow. Firm enough to be clear. Warm enough to be trusted. Awake enough to see the low limbs before they reach anyone’s head.
How we do what we do — how we lead — is as important as what we achieve.
So take the reins today. Name where you’re stretching past your experience. Give a correction, then give the praise the second it’s earned. And before the day gets loud, say something true to yourself about who you intend to be when you’re in the saddle.
If you want the full framework behind this, start with Lead with Light™.
What’s the ride that taught you the most? Tell me in the comments. I read every one.
Be clear. Be kind. Lead with Light! ✨
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