The Mane Event

Our Masters cohort was going on a field trip, to be honest though, I wasn’t too sure about the whole endeavor. As I drove through the torrential rain on Saturday morning out to Chilliwack for a Trade Fair on horses I have to admit that I reminded myself several times to keep an open mind. The reasoning for our trip out here was still unclear to me. Exactly what health education and cowboys have in common I remained unsure about, but if nothing else it would be a nice change of pace from yet another classroom that I would otherwise spend all week and most of my weekend in.

As I walked about the exhibition grounds I was definitely not disappointed in my assumption that I would see cowboys. As I passed person after person and stall after stall of Stetsons, boots, and buckles, the only thing that seemed to stand out against the western backdrop was me. As I found my colleagues and took a seat on looking the Round Pen (yes its name is an exact description of the arena) I still has no idea what to expect.

We were here to watch the Trainers Challenge which is a competition between three clinicians who are given three very similar untrained horses and four one hour sessions in front of the audience to train their horse, while being judged. We were set to watch session two and as the horse and trainer entered the pen it became quickly evident what an undertaking such a feat would be.

As I watched I was struck be three things. The first was how powerful, animated, and unsure the horse was inside the pen was. The second was that though many of the stereotypes I had about cowboys were true, there was definitely much, much more to horse training than I had ever considered. The third and most striking observation was how many connections I was making between the trainer’s work with his horse and myself as a teacher and the work I do with my students.

While both clinicians had very different methods the training sequence was the same. From what I saw, both trainers had the same 4 over arching principles. In order to train the horse you had to know your horse, be consistent with your horse, believe in your horse, and celebrate with your horse. Replace horse with students and my own teaching philosophy spilled out before me inside the pen as the trainer and horse worked together to realize the horse’s potential.

Each of the four steps resonated with me and it’s place within my teaching practice.

Step one - know your horse:

Just as the trainer noticed the movements of the horse’s body, its face and ears, when it whinnied or if sweat appeared on its body, much of the information I use to asses and gauge my students comes from non verbal cues. When working with young children who often don’t yet have the vocabulary to express their feelings wants and needs, body language becomes one of my greatest indicators of my student’s interests, feelings, and thoughts. In order to teach my class I need to know if they are ready to learn or if their non verbal cues are telling me that they are to anxious, overwhelmed, upset, fidgety, or uninterested to engage in the learning process. If so, it is then my job as teacher to honour their feelings and guide them to a state of readiness for learning before my lesson can begin. Each time the horse’s cues changed the trainer adapted with him. The state of learning and trying something new is a vulnerable and often scary place and without taking into consideration how your charge feels no meaningful teaching can begin

Step two – be consistent with your horse:

While a good trainer or teacher values the feelings of their charge, it is still imperative for the trainer – horse relationship and teacher – student relationship to have boundaries, expectations, and consistent follow through. The trainer establishes a task and works with the horse in a firm and consistent way until the horse is able to meet the challenge. The trainer and teacher give many chances, try different strategies, and recognize all small steps in the right direction, but the expectation remains constant and the horse or student thrive under consistent expectations and feedback.

Step three – believe in your horse:

One of the most memorable things I heard one of the trainers say was “I wouldn’t have asked him [the horse] to do it if I didn’t know he could.” Teachers need to believe in their students as much as a trainer needs to believe in their horse. If a teacher asks a student to do something they cannot do, the student will only learn failure from the experience. But also if a teacher asks a student to do something that they think they should be able to accomplish, but then gives up on it once it appears difficult or time consuming, the student again libelearns only failure. Trainers and teachers need to pick realistic goals and believe that your charge can accomplish them, even if it takes endless strategies, scaffolding, time, and faith.

Step four – celebrate with your horse:

Victories big and small are worth celebrating and whether they are an applause in the pen, or a sticker on the back of the hand, both horses and children deserve recognition of their accomplishments. Too much praise, unspecific praise, or praise to early can be as problematic as no praise. Using praise wisely is one of the most effective tools in a teacher or trainer’s arsenal. Used appropriately, praise helps foster esteem and pride in the student or horse.

After watching these two trainers I was astounded by the incredible connections to teaching and how much insight I gleaned about my own practice as a teacher. The day was not over yet however, and the afternoon’s billing of Jonathan Field and his “amazing horses!” seemed intriguing.

Jonathan Field calls what he does with his horses “Liberty Training” This whole concept of liberty seemed odd in cowboy context because whenever I hear the word it reminds me of John Stuart Mills and his essays “On Liberty” which of course have nothing to do with horses, pertaining instead with the sovereignty of an individual within society. But as I watched Jonathan interact with his horses, liberty, as it pertains to horses, citizens in a society, or students in a classroom began to appear increasingly similar. Jonathan didn’t just train his horses; he developed a relationship with his horses. He had such faith in his horses, and his training that he is able to let go of absolute power and let respect for his horse and their liberty reign supreme in his interactions with them. Just as Fields and Mills advocate the necessity and right of individuals and horses to liberty, how do our student’s right to liberty play out in the classroom? Is taking a child by the hand and sitting them down when every verbal and non verbal cue they are giving speaks to their discomfort or unwillingness any different then using a whip or rope on a horse? How can a teacher or trainer manage what we feel is the greater good for the child or the horse over their liberty?

Watching Jonathan and his horses makes me wonder how much my actions or management strategies value the liberty of my students. If I assess their needs, teach them what they need to know, and set realistic boundaries can I simply let them go and try in on their own, accepting that they way bolt or run or not do what I’ve asked? Watching Jonathan’s concept of training with liberty in action may have raised more questions for me than answers, but this concept of liberty in my classroom is one that will not be leaving my mind in the near future.

The Mane Event was an incredibly powerful experience for me. To see the power of no verbal training and teaching in action has greatly raised my awareness of its power in my classroom and my responsibilities to it as a teacher. A deeper understanding and respect for such beautiful, intelligent, and powerful creatures is still yet another reason to be thankful for the experience. 

Just Breathe

While I am clearly the minority in our Masters cohort of runners and yogis, my active living weapon of choice is first and foremost the gym, my second home. Most people in my life don’t seem to understand my devotion. Why not play a beer league team sport, or run in beautiful scenery, or hike the many amazing trails the lower mainland has to offer?, are questions I often field. It’s not as though I don’t enjoy these things as well, but they are the addition to my practice, not what sustains it.

I have tried many a time to explain my practice and what draws me to it. While each of my attempts teases out a little something more, I still often am at a loss to truly describe how satisfying it is to sweat it out in a hot, usually crowded space full of others engaging in their own greatly varying practices.

At first I thought my love for the gym was simply a physical translation for my love of routine. I am extremely routine oriented and admittedly struggle with uncertainty and abrupt change. In this regard the gym is a safe and constant environment for me. The environment rarely changes, the hours are constant, and the faces familiar. I am free to follow my routines without having to adjust for others. Unlike teaching kindergarten where there is a constant demand for my attention or help, the gym is a haven with very few outside demands or distractions. Headphones in and I am enveloped in my own world of order, control, and routines amidst any chaos around me or in my life.

However, this explanation for the love of my practice falls short. When travelling, working out with friends, or the always-dreaded maintenance closure of my gym, I am forced to take my practice to new spaces and learn the ropes of a new gym. In the many, many gyms I have been in there are only a couple with which I do not find serious fault. While this is partially because some gyms are very poorly planned, I have come to realize that it is less the physical space I find lacking, and more the community. Not that these other gyms don’t foster a sense of community, it’s just that I’m not a part of it. Despite my gym’s many faults, it belongs to me, and everyone else who practices there. Countless conversations about technique, theory, challenges, and successes shape my practice and those around me. The energy I derive from my fellow fitness colleagues pushes me further and makes my successes acknowledged and celebrated by others. My most challenging workouts are usually when the gym is empty, or when there are no familiar faces. The simple action of joining my body into motion in a room alive with movement, even in a seemingly individualistic practice, propels me through even the most exhausting sessions.

While this is already quite a bit to have teased out of an acticity most would surmise as simply a hopeless gym rat getting their fix, or an obsessive attempt to achieve a bodily perfection that does not exist, it still does not entirely encompass my practice. There always seemed to be a piece missing and it wasn’t until my exploration of somatic awareness, prompted by our class discussion, that I started to view my love of the gym in a new way.

No matter how stressful my day, or how heavy the load I carried to the gym, I would leave feeling far more calm and collected than when I arrived. The gym is my stress free zone. I push myself to hard to worry about anything else other than focusing my body and completing my routine to the best of my ability. I chalked up the release of stress to the science behind endorphins and their role in managing tension and the brain and body’s physiological responses. But as life continues to prove increasingly stressful and I seek to find new ways to effectively deal with the rigors of my life, I keep coming across a key element in my search towards a life of lower stress - breathing. The more I search it seems that the seemingly simplest human action may indeed be the most powerful. As I’ve been incorporating mindful breathing into a variety of my daily activities, such as when eating, at work, or during difficult moments, I have come to appreciate how effective such a simple task is at changing my entire mindset. This revelation started me thinking where else the awareness of breathing could effect my life and it brought me to a realization of how much it already did, only it was happening unbeknownst to me.

I began to think that maybe the true reason for my love of the gym and how invigorating and refreshing it makes me feel, despite working my self to the point of exhaustion, has less to do with routine, community, and endorphins, and more to do with the simple act of focusing on my breathing for an hour or more at a time. In essence, breathing underlines every movement I make at the gym. Throughout my workout I am completely focused on my breath. Whether it’s ensuring I exhale on exertion, or find a comfortable rhythm during cardio, my attention is continually returns to breathing.

When I follow my own routine, breathing comes easier. When I’m supported by a community and know I have a spotter when needed, natural and rhythmic breathing follows. It is not that the other reasons I love my practice are not important, it is only that now I seem them as enablers of enriching my most important somatic experience, breathing.

I am developing a new relationship with breathing and have been enjoying this mindful practice in new areas of my life. It is also becoming an important tool in my teacher toolbox and has been helping my students engage their body and minds and work towards self soothing at school during distress and worry. Becoming aware of how powerful breathing already was in my life, even though I was unaware, is serving as a daily reminder of why I practice something that seems to simple. Putting intention behind an often unintentional or unnoticed act has made me much more aware of the power of the body as a whole. Instead of understanding my gym practice as simply a way to keep my muscles, bones, and physical body healthy, I am now beginning to understand the dramatic implications this practice has over my entire health. My body is a whole and my mind and body do not act separately. My breath is the connection between the two and as I strengthen this bond I strengthen my body. 

The 100 Mile Table

The day after a Thanksgiving feast is a great day for reflection. Not only for the many, many things I am thankful for, but also this year in particular I have been reflecting on my self-propelled journey into local and seasonal eating. Turning my thinking towards local eating is a gradual lifestyle shift in which I am attempting to reacquaint myself with food. The idea of reacquainting myself with food seems almost silly. Do I not spend hours in my kitchen cooking, planning, and enjoying food? But despite this, most of my experiences with food existed only after buying it at the grocery store. That is most certainly missing a lot of the process it took to get that food to me. It’s easy to turn a blind eye to the thousands of miles it took for many of my favorite foods to arrive in my hands, and the ecological and nutritional tolls that takes. 

So this year I decided to reacquaint myself with food and serve a Thanksgiving feast of foods whose history, travels, and growers I knew. It wasn’t easy, but it wasn’t as hard as I had expected and the journey proved to be worth every effort.

Here is the menu:

Turkey – an 18 pound grain fed, antibiotic free, ethically raised turkey from JD Farms in Langley http://www.jdfarms.ca/

Stuffing - Sliver Hills Sprouted Bakery Bread (Abbotsford) Walla Walla onions (Washington) Free Range Eggs from Maple Hills Farms (Abbotsford) and fresh Thyme and Sage (Delta)

Cranberry Sauce – Fresh cranberries from the Farmers Market, honey by Chilliwack River Valley Natural Gourmet

Gravy – Drippings from turkey, whole-wheat flour from Anita’s Organic Mill (Chilliwack)

Carrots – backyard garden

Brussel Sprouts – backyard garden

Corn – From Farmers Market, grown in the Fraser Valley

Potatoes – Yukon Gold (Keremeos, purchased while travelling in the region) Purple Russian Garlic (Keremeos)

Squash dish – Acorn squash (Keremeos purchased while travelling in the region) Crimini mushrooms (Fraser Valley) Green Beans (local farmers market) Hazelnuts (Aggasiz) Fresh Sage and Thyme (Delta) Garlic (Keremeos) Butter (Fraser Valley)

Pumpkin Pie – Pumpkin (our garden) Milk (Avalon Organic Dairy, Burnaby) Eggs (Abbotsford) Honey (Chilliwack) Hazelnuts (Aggasiz) Spices (not local) Whole wheat flour (Chilliwack) Butter (Fraser Valley)

Whipping cream – Cream (Avalon Organic Dairy, Burnaby) Vanilla (not local) icing sugar (not local)

Apple Pie – Macintosh Apples (Keremeos) Flour (Chilliwack) Butter (Fraser Valley) Spices (not local) lemon (not local)

Ice Cream – Island Dairy (Vancouver Island)

So not perfect, definitely some notable not local additions in the dessert area, but on the whole I was very proud of the ability to eat so well locally. I was amazed at how powerful the simple act of cutting corn off the cob was. Of course I know that corn comes from the cob, and in the summer I eat local corn on the cob and immensely enjoy it. But what do I do the rest of the year? I suspect what most people do, simply purchase it in frozen in bags or cans and not think twice about where it came from. Turns out the frozen corn I keep in my freezer the rest of the year is from Seattle. How silly it seems to eat corn from Seattle when it grows so much closer to home and all it takes is a little slicing.

This culinary experiment has simply reinforced how manageable it is to take small steps towards eating more locally and seasonally. I live in an amazing region of the world where delicious food abounds and with a little effort and planning its bounty seems to simply unfold before me. Participating in local market economy, talking to farmers and growers, and getting my own hands dirty in my garden are powerful reminders of food as it was meant to be and an attachment to the land that I had all but forgotten.   

Granted, I do have to admit that eating locally is more expensive and it’s cost is a barrier to many for whom food is a less than enjoyable, worrisome experience due to it’s cost. My local Thanksgiving feast required more expensive ingredients from specialty realtors such as Whole Foods and Choices. And the cost between some ingredients, local honey versus mass-produced imported white sugar for example, were staggering. But there were some pleasant cost savings as well, such as a bag stuffed full of fresh herbs for $1.50 and Aggasiz hazelnuts for less than my local Grocery store charges. On the whole though, I am keenly aware of the expense of local eating and how unattainable it would seem if food insecurity were a problem I faced.

This week I have been researching what, if anything is being done in my community to support food security for those most at risk. This is not a mute issue and I found several advocacy groups working towards protecting food and it’s accessibility in my city and province.

BC Foods Systems Network http://fooddemocracy.org/

New Westminster Food Action Committee http://www.fraserregionfoodnetwork.ca/new-westminster-community-food-action-committee/

Fraser Valley Food Network http://www.fraservalleyfoodnetwork.com/

These groups are working towards making changes towards our Province’s and Country’s food policies and putting accessibility of nutritious foods for all citizens at the forefront of public consciousness.

Going forward from this experience I have decided to set a personal nutrition goal for myself this year. My goal is for my diet to consist of at least 80% BC grown fruits and vegetables. To make this goal more manageable I have signed up for an organic fruit and vegetable delivery service where I can select my produce each week by what is availably locally instead of the standard array of food imported across the globe at every ecological and nutritional consequence possible. I was also extremely pleased to find that it will cost me no more for this service than I was paying at markets and grocery stores. www.spud.ca

A few small steps, a big impact in my life, and an endless array of possibilities, challenges and improvements on a larger scale. I now proudly take up the term “locavore” in my lifelong journey of food discovery, growing, cooking, and most importantly eating.

Bon appetite!