The Whole Horse Place

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The Whole Horse Place The Whole Horse Place is an all volunteer, nonprofit organization. We offer something for everyone!

The Whole Horse Place's mission is to make a positive difference in the lives of old horses and humans of all ages by fostering bonds through comprehensive horse care and education. Our objective: We partner senior horses with children and adults of all abilities, foster children, and the broader community. We rescue senior horses and give them new purpose in teaching humans responsibility, confidence, self respect, resiliency, and emotional honesty.

I'm trying to write a book, this is chapter two. Sneak preview! Pokey and the Pony FortuneBefore we moved to Alaska, we ...
10/31/2026

I'm trying to write a book, this is chapter two. Sneak preview!

Pokey and the Pony Fortune
Before we moved to Alaska, we lived in Indiana, where my grandpa bought us kids a pony named Pokey. I must have been four or five years old, so my memories of him are limited, although apparently not limited enough to have forgotten some of my more questionable decisions.

I remember sitting on Pokey one day when he stretched his head forward. I must have been holding the reins rather firmly because I went with him, ending up somewhere along his neck, hanging on for dear life. Pokey didn't seem particularly concerned.

On another occasion, I decided to saddle him myself. I got the saddle on, climbed aboard, and was quite pleased with my accomplishment until the saddle slid underneath him, taking me along for the ride. I hadn't tightened the cinch. In fact, I'm fairly certain I hadn't bothered with it at all. Apparently, I figured getting the saddle onto the pony was the important part. Keeping it there hadn't occurred to me.

Fortunately, Pokey wasn't a particularly ambitious pony. Going anywhere didn't seem to interest him much, which was probably just as well, considering my level of expertise.

We didn't have Pokey very long, and even my dad doesn't remember what became of him. I know there's a photograph somewhere, but otherwise I have only those few memories. I must have loved him, though, because I've talked about that pony all my life. It's rather remarkable how long a horse can stay with you, even when he didn't do much while he was there.

Around that same time, my dad and grandpa decided there was money to be made in ponies. Neither had any particular knowledge of horses, but they weren't about to let a minor technicality interfere with a promising business opportunity.

They went to an auction just before winter and purchased twenty-two ponies for seven dollars apiece. The plan was to feed them well, put some weight on them, perhaps improve their manners a bit, and sell them in the spring for considerably more money. It was a perfectly sound plan, provided you knew nothing about ponies.

The ponies, unfortunately, had not been consulted. They escaped regularly, showed little interest in cooperating, and generally made themselves a nuisance. I remember chasing them around, although at four or five years old I doubt I was a particularly valuable member of the recovery team.

My dad and grandpa, meanwhile, discovered that keeping twenty-two ponies fed and inside a pasture was more work than they'd anticipated. Training them was another matter entirely, and apparently not one that was going to be resolved before spring.
Nevertheless, they persevered. They fed those ponies all winter, chased them whenever necessary, and waited patiently for their investment to mature.

In the spring, they took all twenty-two ponies back to the auction.
They sold for seven dollars apiece.

My dad was still laughing about it when he told me the story last week, almost sixty years later. I suppose enough time has passed that he can overlook the feed bill.

There's an old saying in the horse world: If you want to make a small fortune in horses, start with a large one. My dad and grandpa seem to have grasped the basic principle rather early. Sixty years later, I run a horse sanctuary, and I can report that the industry has made remarkably little progress in this regard.

I don't know whether Pokey came before, during, or after the great pony investment, and nobody seems to remember what happened to him. But my earliest experiences with horses apparently involved falling off them, chasing them around the countryside, and watching adults lose money on them.

Looking back, I suppose I was getting an early education in horses.

10/18/2026

Money the biggest scam in the equestrian world🫣

Stable Paths: Sometimes the Lessons Are Ours, TooYesterday's Stable Paths was a little different. It was an extra sessio...
10/18/2026

Stable Paths: Sometimes the Lessons Are Ours, Too

Yesterday's Stable Paths was a little different. It was an extra session that we hadn't originally planned for, and because I couldn't set up a separate registration on our website, I really didn't know how many people to expect.

Sixteen people showed up!

And what an interesting mix of people it was. We had youth, younger siblings, parents supporting their children, veterans, a law enforcement officer, and a teacher who works with at-risk students and wanted to experience what we do here. Some were familiar faces, and some were experiencing Stable Paths for the first time.

We started the morning with chores, as we always do. Horses still need to be fed, stalls cleaned, and the barn taken care of, no matter how many people show up. There is something about everyone working together, doing ordinary things that need to be done, that begins to bring a group together before we ever sit down to talk.

At lunch, Brenda, our licensed counselor, introduced an exercise called a Joy Menu. Brenda had learned it during a workshop she attended this week in connection with her work at a women's prison, and she brought it back to share with us.

The idea was to identify the things that bring us joy, from the big, special experiences we look forward to, to the ordinary pleasures we can find throughout our day.

For Brenda, one of those special joys was going to see Les Misérables in Tacoma with her family. For Josh, it was a hockey game in Las Vegas with his wife. Margi talked about traveling with her husband while they still can. And our youngest participant was excited about going to the NA Halloween party with her family that evening.

Then we talked about the smaller, everyday joys, the things we called the "lunch and snacks" of our Joy Menu. Things like that crisp, fresh morning air you can almost taste, listening to sad songs because somehow they make you feel better, staying after band practice to have the percussion room all to yourself, or playing board games with a big sister. These are the little moments of joy we can find throughout an ordinary day..

Those are the things we can sometimes overlook, especially when life is difficult. The Joy Menu gave us a way to recognize them and remember that joy doesn't always have to be something big.

After lunch, we went out to the horses. Rather than assigning horses to participants, I asked everyone to spend about ten minutes walking through the barn, visiting the horses, and choosing one they felt drawn to. Some people shared horses, and that was fine.

Before we started grooming, I asked everyone to give me one word describing how they felt.

There were words like braced, nervous, anxious, peaceful, calm, and happy.

Then we groomed. That was all. No riding, no particular task to accomplish, no expectation that the horses had to perform. Just time to be together.

While everyone was grooming, I told them the story of Man o' War, one of the greatest racehorses in history, and asked them who they thought was the most important person in his life.

Not his owner, trainer, or jockey. His groom.

Man o' War's groom, Will Harbut, was devoted to him, and their bond became legendary. Harbut slept on a cot in front of the horse's stall and in his stall with him when he needed care. When Harbut died, Man o' War followed him just weeks later.

That story opened up conversations about grief, attachment, and the relationships we have with animals and people. Some of those conversations happened quietly between participants as they continued brushing their horses.

And then something happened with Charlie.

Kota had chosen Charlie, but Charlie wasn't acting like himself. He was moving away, avoiding contact, and clearly uncomfortable. Kota recognized that something wasn't right and asked for help.

As we looked more closely, I became concerned that Charlie might be experiencing pain from ulcers. We will need to follow up on that, but what mattered in that moment was Kota's response.

He didn't insist that Charlie stand still and tolerate being groomed. He recognized that Charlie was uncomfortable and decided to put him away.

Later, Kota talked about how he could relate to Charlie because he has gluten intolerance and knows what stomach pain feels like. He understood that sometimes someone is behaving a certain way because something hurts, and we don't always know what that something is.

When we talked about what everyone had learned, Kota said something I thought was especially important: "Not everything is how you see it. Get more understanding of the situation."

That is empathy, and it is something we can all practice.

After grooming, I asked everyone again for a word describing how they felt. The words included peaceful, calm, soft, rested, focused, and connected. Some people who had arrived nervous or anxious were feeling very differently. Like they could breathe again.

We finished by leading the horses over our bridge and asking them to back up. Some horses did everything asked of them, and some didn't. But everyone was successful because the point wasn't getting a horse across a bridge. It was learning to listen to each other, communicate, and recognize when to ask, when to wait, and when to let something go.

At the end of the day, we talked about what everyone was taking away from the experience.

Fred appreciated spending time with the horses, resting with them, and feeling better prepared to deal with the things that come up in life. Kaydence talked about learning to lead a horse and being in a good mood. Chloe simply said she had a good time.

David appreciated having peaceful time without having to think about everything that needed to be done, and the opportunity to disconnect from technology and be present.

One of our visitors, who works with at-risk youth in a school setting, talked about the kindness, patience, and sense of community she experienced here. Another participant talked about how much it meant to be outside with the horses and other people, with no agenda beyond being together.

Amelia shared something particularly meaningful. She had been mentally unprepared for the number of people and was worried that her anxiety might affect the horses. That's one of the reasons she chose Lefty, one of our calmest horses. She knew that being around him would help her feel more settled, but she also wanted to be mindful of how her emotions might affect him. What she took away from the experience went beyond horses. She realized that when she's feeling anxious or overwhelmed, she can make the same kind of choice about the people she surrounds herself with, choosing those who will help her feel calm and supported rather than adding to her anxiety.

Josh talked about service and serenity, the importance of teaching and sharing, and watching people grow.

And I shared something personal, too.

I had been carrying around a mistake I made while trying to help someone in a very difficult situation. I acted out of love and concern, but later realized there had been a better way to handle it. It had been weighing on me. While we were cleaning stalls that morning, I confided in another woman who is also in the AA program. She listened and then said something that gave me an entirely different way of looking at what had happened.

"Love is never wrong."

That doesn't mean our decisions are always right, or that good intentions prevent mistakes. We still have to learn from them. But it helped me understand that I didn't have to punish myself for trying to help someone.

And yesterday, while everyone was working together doing chores, caring for horses, and looking out for one another, I felt that weight lift.

I think that was my own Stable Paths lesson for the day.

Finally, I want to say something about our volunteers, because none of this happens without them.

Stable Paths is free to participants, including lunch, which is an important part of our time together. We aren't equipped to prepare meals here, so we purchase them for each session. Usually it's sandwich platters, a veggie tray, hummus and bread, and a treat like cookies or brownies. Yesterday's lunch alone cost $148, and rising food prices have made feeding everyone a real challenge for our budget. If anyone would like to help us cover the cost of meals for future Stable Paths sessions, we would be very grateful. Sharing a meal is an important part of what we do, and we want to continue providing that experience without any cost to the families who attend.

And every person who helps make these days possible is giving something that can't simply be measured in dollars. Our volunteers care for the horses, prepare the barn, help with chores, support the activities, welcome families, listen to conversations, and notice when someone needs a little extra help.

They make it possible for sixteen very different people to come together and have sixteen different experiences, each one meaningful in its own way.

We have people who bring professional experience, people who bring lived experience, and people who simply show up with a willingness to help. Every one of them matters.

And just like the story of Man o' War and his groom, sometimes the most important people aren't the ones receiving the recognition.

They're the ones quietly showing up, doing the work, and caring for others.

To our volunteers, thank you. You don't just help us run Stable Paths. You are what makes Stable Paths possible.

And to everyone who spent the day with us, thank you for trusting us, sharing your thoughts, and being willing to learn alongside the horses and one another.

❤️ The Whole Horse Place

Stable Paths – Anger, Letting Go, and Finding PeaceYesterday at Stable Paths, we started our day with a reading called F...
10/11/2026

Stable Paths – Anger, Letting Go, and Finding Peace

Yesterday at Stable Paths, we started our day with a reading called Fixing Me, Not You.

It led to a wonderful conversation about anger, where it comes from, what we do with it, and how we learn to let it go.

We talked about how anger is often a secondary emotion.

Underneath it may be fear, hurt, guilt, shame, or frustration. Sometimes anger comes so quickly that we react before we've even had time to understand what we're feeling.

But what happens after that first flash of anger? That's where we have choices.

One of the things shared was that sometimes anger is absolutely justifiable. People do things that hurt us, and we have every right to feel what we feel. But for those struggling, anger is a luxury we can’t afford.

That doesn't mean pretending something didn't happen, excusing someone's behavior, or allowing ourselves to be mistreated. It means recognizing that holding on to anger can hurt us long after the situation itself has passed.

The conversation went in so many directions, and everyone had something to contribute.

We talked about how easy it is to make assumptions about what someone else is thinking, without considering that they may be experiencing something entirely different. About how anger can turn inward and become resentment toward ourselves. About how our minds can spiral when we get caught up in our own thoughts.

And we talked about ways to interrupt that spiral.

One suggestion was to give ourselves time before responding when we're angry. Start with 24 seconds, then 24 minutes, then 24 hours; sometimes putting a little distance between the emotion and our reaction can change everything.

We talked about box breathing, slowing our breathing to help settle our bodies and minds. Another suggestion was putting something cold against the forehead to help interrupt an overwhelming emotional response and redirect our attention. Several of the kids were interested in trying that one!

Other ideas included looking at situations from different perspectives, practicing empathy, spending time outside, talking with someone we trust, and learning to recognize our feelings before acting on them.

And, of course, the horses.

One of the things we talked about was how horses respond to what we're feeling and how we're behaving. They don't understand why we're frustrated, and they don't deserve to carry it. Working with them gives us an opportunity to recognize our emotions, settle ourselves, and approach things differently.

There was also a lot of discussion about surrendering anger. Not denying it, not stuffing it down, but letting it go instead of carrying it around.

As we reflected on the day, I loved hearing what everyone took away from it.

One young person shared that sometimes when she gets angry, she ends up getting angry at herself for the reasons behind it.
Another talked about how much he enjoyed the discussion and the horse activity, especially the feeling of being free.

We heard about how anger toward other people can become anger toward ourselves, and how resentment can build when we don't know what to do with those feelings.

One participant shared how much fun she'd had and how spending time with the horses helps calm her when she's anxious or upset.

Another appreciated hearing different perspectives and learning ways to manage anxiety in social situations.

There were also reflections about empathy, thinking before acting, and remembering that just because we believe someone else is wrong doesn't mean we have to react in anger.

And something else stood out to me. One of our mentors talked about watching the kids release their tension as they spent time with the horses. It's something we see here often. The horses give us a chance to be present, to stop carrying everything around for a little while, and simply be.

What I loved most was that nobody had all the answers. We were young people, adults, mentors, and veterans sitting together, sharing different perspectives and learning from one another.

We all get angry. We all make mistakes. We all have things we're still learning to handle.

At lunch, I found myself thinking about how much I enjoy these conversations. We're all learning. We're all doing the best we can.

And sometimes, accepting that our best is enough for today is an important lesson in itself.

That's what Stable Paths is about. A safe place to talk, to listen, to learn from one another, and to discover that we don't have to figure everything out alone.

Stable Paths is a free prevention and mentoring program at The Whole Horse Place, bringing youth, recovery mentors, veterans, and horses together to build healthier coping skills and stronger connections.

A quick Buddy update ❤️Buddy continues to do incredibly well after having his eye removed.At our vet’s recommendation, w...
10/03/2026

A quick Buddy update ❤️

Buddy continues to do incredibly well after having his eye removed.

At our vet’s recommendation, we’ve been using MagnaWave MagnaWave Corporate - Wellness and Pain Relief to help with his recovery and swelling. These photos were taken immediately before and shortly after his MagnaWave treatment.

The difference is pretty incredible.

His swelling came down dramatically after the treatment, and you can see it clearly in the photos. We’ll continue using MagnaWave as recommended by his vet while he heals.

And Buddy? He’s comfortable, adjusting beautifully to having one eye, and very much still Buddy. ❤️

Stable Paths: Acceptance, Gratitude & Deliberate ChoicesYesterday’s Stable Paths began with one word: Acceptance.But the...
09/27/2026

Stable Paths: Acceptance, Gratitude & Deliberate Choices

Yesterday’s Stable Paths began with one word: Acceptance.

But the kids didn’t leave it there.

The conversation moved from acceptance to gratitude, and from gratitude to the deliberate choices we make about how we respond to what happens in our lives.

Amelia shared something she had recently heard in psychology class- that around age 18 is basically as good as life gets, and from there it is downhill.

Well, that started a conversation. We definitely didn’t agree with that one, and Amelia didn’t either. She said she thinks life is much more about ups and downs; and that sometimes the bad days are what make us appreciate the good ones.

Someone else brought up radical acceptance: accepting reality as it is, even when it isn't what we wanted. We talked about how getting to that place also takes gratitude and being at peace with yourself.

And then the conversation went deeper.

Private things were shared around that lunch table, and they will remain private. But what I can share is what several people said afterward.

One participant said she had “a lot of fun” and “felt really free.” She said the lunch conversation helped, especially being able to talk without feeling judged. She also said that being with Brice takes her mind off everything.

Another said the lunch conversation was great because she gained so much insight from hearing other people's perspectives.

It was one of those conversations where you realize that the safety of the room matters every bit as much as the lesson being taught.

Then we went back outside.

We had set up a small jump and asked everyone to lead their horses over it.

And suddenly, without intending it, we were watching our lunch conversation play out in front of us.

Buddy lost his eye five days ago.
We have never jumped Buddy before.

So think about what we were asking this old horse to do. He is only five days into learning how to navigate the world with one eye. His field of vision has changed. His perception has changed. And now, of all times, we put an obstacle in front of him that he'd never been asked to cross before.

It wasn't the obvious, comfortable thing to ask.
Buddy was understandably unsure.
So his person gave him time.

There was no requirement that he had to do it. He could look. He could hesitate. He could figure out where his feet were and what this strange thing in front of him was.

And then he went over it.
Again.
And again.

By the end, Buddy wasn't cautiously getting across that jump anymore. He was leaping it.

His person eventually climbed on and rode him over it, and Buddy jumped it every time.

It was incredible to watch his confidence bloom right in front of us.

Maybe, five days after losing his eye, that was exactly what Buddy needed: not for us to protect him from everything unfamiliar, but to give him a safe opportunity to discover that he could still do something hard.

And then there was Diego.
Diego was not the least bit interested in our plans.

His person asked him to go over the jump. Diego went around it.

He stopped. He tried other ideas. He wasn't scared. He didn't seem to be refusing. Maybe he didn't understand what we wanted, or maybe Diego simply saw absolutely no reason to participate in this particular human idea.

And his person just kept working with the horse she had.

She didn't get frustrated. She didn't turn it into a fight. She adjusted, tried different things, laughed, and thoroughly enjoyed the exercise.

And I couldn't help thinking: There it is.

Acceptance. Gratitude. Deliberate choices.

Acceptance wasn't giving up on Buddy because he had lost an eye.
It was accepting where he was that day, giving him the space to figure things out, and letting him show us what he could do.

Acceptance with Diego didn't mean forcing the outcome we had planned. His person accepted the horse she had in front of her, chose how she would respond, and found joy in the experience anyway.

Maybe that's the bigger lesson.

Acceptance doesn't mean we have to like everything that happens. It doesn't mean we stop trying, and it doesn't mean things always turn out the way we hoped.

Sometimes it means looking honestly at what is in front of us, finding something to be grateful for, and deliberately choosing what we do next.

Yesterday we cleaned stalls, hauled hay, ate lunch, talked about some very real things, laughed, trusted one another, and played with horses.

And somewhere in all of that, a group of kids and adults; and a couple of old horses, showed us what acceptance, gratitude, and deliberate choices can actually look like.

An update on Buddy, because we know people are going to have questions when they see him. ❤️Buddy had his left eye remov...
09/21/2026

An update on Buddy, because we know people are going to have questions when they see him. ❤️

Buddy had his left eye removed this morning.

This wasn't something we had been planning. Buddy has an old injury to that eyelid from sometime long long before he came to us, or before us, Kristi. His eyelid is split, which means some of his eyelashes turn inward and periodically rub against his eye. We've dealt with irritation and infections over the years with medication, but unfortunately the damaged eyelid meant the problem could always come back.

Almost a week ago, I took off his fly mask to exchange it for a clean one and found his eye looking bad. We sent pictures to our vet and started another round of antibiotics. It wasn't getting worse, but it wasn't getting better either.

On Saturday he participated in Ranch Hands. We kept it very light, some ground manners and light riding, and gave him his eye medication. He did everything we asked him to do because we asked him to do it, but he wasn't quite himself.

Sunday was different. His eye looked worse, so I sent more pictures to our vet and asked if it was an emergency. She came out right away, despite being miserably sick herself, and what she found was much more serious than we could see from the outside.

Normal eye pressure is around 20. Buddy's was 4. There was a hole in the cornea, the iris was being pushed through it, and the cornea had adhered to the iris behind it. His eye was extremely painful.

There was an option to try to save it. It would have meant placing a line that ran from his eye and up his mane so medication could be given 4–6 times every day. It might have healed. But it wouldn't fix the damaged eyelid and eyelashes that caused the repeated irritation in the first place, so we would put him through all of that only to end up right back here again.

Our vet felt the kindest option was to remove the eye.

She came back this morning with everything she needed, and about three hours later it was done.

The part I wasn't prepared for came afterward.

Buddy woke up bandaged and understandably a little scared and unsure of what had just happened. But it was also lunchtime, and once he was awake enough, we brought him a nice soupy mash of grain.

And then something changed.

I don't quite know how to describe him except relieved. Not because Buddy had been living in pain before this; he hadn't. This severe damage to his eye was recent. But by Sunday, that eye had to have been excruciating, and suddenly that pain was gone.

He ate his soupy mash with an expression and an ease about him that I had never seen before. He just looked so incredibly relieved.

Our vet had told us before we made the decision that horses generally adjust very well to losing an eye, and that once a severely painful eye is removed, they often feel dramatically better.

Watching Buddy eat his lunch, we could see exactly what she meant.

Buddy will wear his bandage for the next 3–5 days and then will need eye protection while everything continues to heal. He'll also be on antibiotics and daily pain medication while he recovers.

So if you see pictures of Buddy looking a little different, that's what happened. He didn't lose a good eye today. He lost a painful one.

So if you see pictures of Buddy looking a little different, that's what happened. He has some healing to do, but this afternoon he was comfortable, eating his lunch, and looking very much relieved. And we are very grateful for that.

Thoughts Are Not FactsThat was the topic for Stable Paths yesterday, and by the end of the day, the horses had helped us...
09/13/2026

Thoughts Are Not Facts

That was the topic for Stable Paths yesterday, and by the end of the day, the horses had helped us take the conversation somewhere we hadn't expected.

We started the day the way we usually do, working together. Stalls needed to be cleaned, hay needed to be hauled up to the barn, and then we had lunch together before getting into our discussion.

We gave everyone a scenario:
You're walking down the hall at school toward a group of your friends. They're talking, one of them glances over at you, and suddenly the whole group laughs.
What do you think?

The answers came quickly and were mostly this:
They're talking about me.
I won't interact with them now.
I'd feel like an outsider.

But one person saw it differently. Only one person had looked over. If they were laughing at me, wouldn't they all have looked at me?

Then we gave them the rest of the story.
The person who glanced over runs up to you and says, "Someone just told the funniest story. You HAVE to hear this!"

Nothing about the first scene had changed. The glance happened. The laughter happened. What changed was the information we had.

That opened up a really good conversation about how quickly our minds fill in the parts we don't know, and how easily the story we tell ourselves can become fact in our minds.

One person said the discussion reminded them not to assume things and to keep an open mind. Another talked about how remembering that everything isn't necessarily about you can help you stay level-headed instead of thinking everything is going wrong. Someone else pointed out how differently people can see the exact same situation.

One of the takeaways was simple: the more information we have, the more informed our opinion can be, instead of making an assumption.

That led us into another part of communication: listening to understand rather than listening to respond.

I used an AA meeting as an example. When someone is talking, you don't interrupt them. You don't argue with them or prepare your answer while they're still speaking. You listen. You don't even get to respond to what they said.

I've often thought that's part of why kids feel safe here. They feel heard.

After lunch, we took the conversation out to the horses with a "Ground Tie" activity.

The point wasn't to teach the horses to ground tie. The challenge was for the kids to figure out whether they could communicate with their horse well enough to get the horse to remain in place while they walked ten paces away and then around them, within some very specific rules. They couldn't touch or bribe the horse, and if the horse moved, they started again.

Most of the horses figured it out pretty quickly.

Chico wanted to follow Allie until she turned around and gave him one of those unmistakable mom looks.

Chico apparently speaks fluent Mom, because he stopped. 😂

That tiny interaction gave us something else to talk about: how much we communicate without words, and how changing the way we communicate can change the outcome. Fred connected that directly to his interactions with other people.

And then there was Lefty.
Lefty didn't understand why his person was walking away from him. So, naturally, he tried to follow.
As they continued trying, he became increasingly confused and anxious. Eventually, in the middle of all of it, he started looking for me.

So we stopped.

And suddenly the exercise wasn't about whether we could successfully complete the challenge anymore.

It was about whether we were listening.

We had spent part of the day talking about how important it is for a person speaking to know they've been heard. Now Lefty was communicating with us just as clearly as he knew how.

We heard him.

We talked about fairness and kindness, but also about an important distinction. Sometimes horses have to do uncomfortable things simply because we need them to. They need veterinary care, farrier work, medication and other things necessary for their health and safety, and training. We can't stop every time a horse would rather not do something.

But this wasn't one of those situations.

There was absolutely no reason Lefty had to complete this exercise. Continuing simply to accomplish the task would have missed the much bigger lesson he was giving us.

And that became part of what people took away from the day too.

Amelia talked about watching Lefty become anxious and recognizing that stopping kept him from becoming more stressed, and how that could apply when you're working with another person and one of you becomes anxious: stop or change what you're doing.

Josh connected Lefty's reaction back to our discussion at lunch. If we can learn to think about what someone else may be experiencing and empathize with them, that's something we can carry into our relationships with people.

Allie talked about noticing Lefty's anxiety during the exercise.

Others talked about keeping an open mind, not assuming, realizing people can have very different perspectives and ideas, getting more information before forming an opinion, and maybe not taking every thought that enters our head quite so seriously.

And we had a guest with us yesterday.

Tami was visiting Stable Paths on behalf of one of our grantors, so she had the opportunity to see the program instead of just reading what we've written about it in an application.

Tami was amazed by how openly the kids talked. She said she had never seen anything like it. She watched the first person share something personal and then saw the others begin to open up too.

She noticed the little cues and movements that made an impact.

She noticed the adults being vulnerable with the kids. She noticed how everyone helped one another during the exercise.

Mostly, though, she just kept coming back to the kids and how freely they talked.

I loved hearing that from someone seeing Stable Paths for the first time because sometimes, when you're in the middle of something every day, you don't see what someone walking into it for the first time sees.

Yesterday started with Thoughts Are Not Facts.

By the end of the day, it had become something bigger.

Don't assume you know the whole story. Get more information.

Remember that your first thought isn't necessarily a fact. Listen to understand instead of listening so you can respond. Pay attention to what someone else is actually communicating. And be willing to change what you're doing when what you're hearing tells you something different.

Sometimes being heard is more important than finishing the exercise.

Lefty made sure we didn't forget that part. ❤️

Address

4764 SW Old Forest Way
Port Orchard, WA
98367

Opening Hours

Monday 2pm - 5pm
Tuesday 10am - 4pm
Wednesday 10am - 5:30pm
Friday 12:30pm - 5pm
Saturday 10am - 4pm

Telephone

+13608950940

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