10/30/2026
I am often asked to explain the difference between equine therapy and equine assisted learning. (EAP vs EAL). From my perspective and real life experiences, I will share my thoughts.
I entered the world of equine therapy in 2013, when I attended my first Natural Lifemanship training. It was held at an equine therapy facility in Liberty Hill, Texas, called Spirit Reins. The farm was nestled in the Texas Hill Country, surrounded by rolling hills, oak trees, and beautiful views. The herd was made up of wonderful horses from different backgrounds, each with their own story and personality.
At the time, I lived just down the road in Leander, Texas, where I owned and operated a horse boarding and training facility. I taught riding lessons, rescued and trained horses, and held summer camps. I had already witnessed the profound impact being around horses could have on individuals and families, and I was curious about the biology behind these interactions. I wanted to understand why.
Since I was a little girl, I have always been someone who pursues the why. I have never been particularly good at simply accepting something without doing my own research. This didn't always sit well with the authority figures in my life, who sometimes thought I should just say yes and accept their words as truth. But that curiosity eventually led me to call the owner of Spirit Reins, who told me about Natural Lifemanship and its training.
I was so excited to attend, and when I arrived, my mind was blown.
Despite all the years I had spent around horses, I had never really stopped to consider the neuroscience behind our relationships with them. I had not yet studied equine ethology, the science of horse behavior, and suddenly I began recognizing the significance of all those subtle cues I had started noticing over the years. It was profound.
I went home and began practicing what I had learned with my own horses. I was amazed by the difference it made in how we communicated and how much deeper our relationships became. I took another training, and then another! Eventually, I had the opportunity to intern with Tim Jobe, co-founder of Natural Lifemanship, at Spirit Reins.
During that time, I was honored to work alongside multiple licensed therapists and learn from Tim, who became an incredible mentor. He taught me something that has stayed with me throughout my career: the importance of being quiet, observing without interfering, and allowing clients the space to discover things for themselves. I will forever be grateful for his wisdom.
I was a single mom at the time, raising my daughter, who was 17, and my son, who was 12. They attended two different schools, and on top of parenting, I was running my own horse facility full-time, managing lesson students, boarders, and all the daily operations. Life was full! But I was determined to learn everything I could about this incredible and potentially transformational approach to helping people address the effects of trauma.
Having experienced my own traumatic events, I began noticing something else: the knowledge and skills I was learning were benefiting me, too.
I also discovered mindfulness, and that changed my life.
Learning to cultivate presence and calm awareness began shifting the way I experienced the world. Despite all the pressures and responsibilities, I was becoming more efficient, more observant, and more aware of what was happening around me. Before that, I had spent much of my life surviving and operating in what I now recognize as robot mode. I was beginning to experience something different.
After my internship, I decided to establish an equine-assisted therapy program at my own facility. I created spaces for the work, coordinated shared calendars for the different therapy teams, purchased supplies, and continued learning everything I could.
Within a few months, multiple therapy teams were working with clients at my barn. It was amazing to witness the changes unfolding in the people who came through our gates. Our teams worked with both children and adults, and the dedication of the therapists and equine professionals made a tremendous difference in people's lives. The horses, too, seemed to thrive in the relationships and environments we were creating.
Until I sold the ranch and moved in 2021, I continued participating in equine-assisted psychotherapy sessions at my facility alongside multiple licensed mental health professionals.
I share all of this because I want you to understand that my perspective comes from years of firsthand experience. I have been involved in hundreds of equine-assisted psychotherapy sessions with licensed therapists. I have witnessed the intelligence of both horses and humans as they interact, as anxiety begins to loosen its grip, and as people reconnect with parts of themselves they may have lost touch with.
There is something remarkably soft, gentle, and beautiful about this work.
Those who facilitate it must learn to become still, observe, listen with their hearts, and allow the process to unfold. Learning when not to talk is essential, and it can be one of the most challenging skills for therapists who are new to this field.
I teach them WAIT: Why Am I Talking?
The horses often help with this lesson. They may position their bodies between the therapist and the client, nudge the therapist, or otherwise redirect the interaction. It's almost as if they are reminding us to be quiet and let the client have the space to do their work.
The horses are not simply participants in this process. Their choices, responses, and interactions are an integral part of the experience. They often become the leaders of this dance of connection, but we must learn to trust the process and respect their participation.
And this brings me to one of the distinctions I believe is important when comparing equine-assisted psychotherapy and equine-assisted learning.
Both approaches can offer meaningful opportunities for growth, connection, self-awareness, and discovery. Both can incorporate horses, experiential activities, and intentional facilitation. However, their primary purposes and professional frameworks are different.
Equine-assisted learning generally focuses on personal development, education, relationship skills, leadership, communication, and other learning objectives. It can be deeply meaningful and even emotionally moving.
Equine-assisted psychotherapy, on the other hand, is a clinical therapeutic process facilitated by a licensed mental health professional, often in collaboration with a trained equine professional. The work is intentionally designed to address emotional and psychological challenges, including the lasting effects of trauma.
In the Natural Lifemanship approach, there is no need for a predetermined activity or an agenda designed to keep the client occupied. There are no halters or ropes in the relational work I am describing. Often, clients are in the pasture with the horses, where the horses have the freedom to choose whether or not to participate.
The client chooses a horse to partner with, and the relationship becomes an opportunity for exploration and discovery. When something becomes difficult, rather than immediately redirecting attention or distracting from the discomfort, we can slow down and become curious about what is happening. Even a rupture in the relationship can provide an opportunity to explore connection, boundaries, repair, and new possibilities.
There is something sacred about partnering with horses. But when we enter an intentional therapeutic relationship specifically to address the lasting effects of traumatic experiences, the work requires much more than simply being around horses.
It requires intuition, presence, and the ability to tune into what is happening in the moment. It requires allowing discomfort to be part of the process without rushing to fix it. It means creating space for clients to discover their own strengths, recognize familiar patterns, experience new possibilities, and develop the capacity to find and sustain greater coherence.
Horses have their own remarkable social intelligence. They are highly attuned to their environment, their herd relationships, and the subtle interactions taking place around them. Their natural capacity for connection, coupled with their sensitivity to changes in their surroundings, can offer humans an extraordinary opportunity to explore relationship in a different way.
They invite us to slow down, become present, and consider what it might feel like to let go of old patterns and experience something new.
Perhaps even freedom.
And that, to me, is the beauty of this work.
