Words get in the way. At a demo at a horse rescue, I struggled to find words to express myself to the crowd to be truly understood. I didn’t want any misunderstandings of what I was doing and why. Horses help me focus, so I relaxed into the rhythm of the horse in front of me, and spoke freely to the spectators. The terrified horse ran frantically back and forth in the round pen, crashing into the panels, trying to escape the predator who was in there with him, me. I spoke of how I listened to what the horse was saying: about me, about his past, about the horse he was born to be. I read him, breathed with him, looked into his soul. He calmed down and finally stood with his head down, licking his lips beside me. There were no words between us. I worked with him for an hour while he freely told me his story. And I listened.