Body Blog
Exploring mindfulness and healing through the body for both horses and humans.
Listening to the Herd: A Day with the Hallelujah Stallions
October 28, 2025
Wow. What an experience.
I was recently invited to bring my skills as a horsewoman, bodyworker, and craniosacral therapist to a remarkable herd of mustang stallions—wild horses from the range who now live safely at the Wells Creek Wild Mustang Sanctuary in southern Minnesota. These horses, once free-roaming and untamed, now have hay, shelter, open space, and the care of devoted humans.
Preparing to Meet the Herd
Before visiting, I shared a few thoughts about my approach:
“While Masterson Method® equine bodywork primarily involves hands-on techniques to release tension and improve wellness, this visit will be different. It’s my first time meeting the herd, and I’m curious about three things:
How they interact with one another
How comfortable they feel in their own bodies
How curious they are about us humans.”
I learned that two of the stallions had received some handling before. With those horses, I hoped to begin a gentle conversation—perhaps from a distance—using Horse Speak skills (inspired by Sharon Wilsie’s work). If a horse showed openness, I planned to explore touch or intention along the Bladder Meridian line, a foundational technique in the Masterson Method. You can learn more about this technique here.
First Impressions
When I arrived, the herd stood together like a quiet symphony—eating, playing, drinking, moving—each gesture subtle and meaningful. No skirmishes. No noise. Just an unspoken understanding. Every horse knew their place, and every horse had a place. It was a testament to the sanctuary’s care and the deep peace within this herd.
Robin, who tends to them daily, stood with me as we observed. I felt grounded beside her—she was their trusted human anchor. We had arrived shortly after hay was laid out, so the stallions were content, absorbed in their morning rhythm.
Meeting Warrior
Eventually, Robin pointed out Warrior—a blind stallion taking a break from eating. He was one of the more “touchable” members of the herd.
As I approached, Warrior neither shied away nor leaned in. He simply was. I offered a quiet greeting through my outstretched hand, but he declined. Interesting, I thought.
So I shifted—slowed down, softened my presence—and began to use light-touch Masterson Method techniques. Within minutes, he subtly moved closer. Though Warrior cannot see, there was a moment when I noticed his sunken eye, with a small glint of brown, turn toward me. His awareness met mine. His quiet presence reminded me of an elephant—gentle, wise, and powerful.
We were having a conversation now, without words.
The Language of Release
As we worked, Warrior began to show small but powerful signs of release: a twitch, a resting hind leg, a lick and chew, a soft curling of the upper lip. These are the horse’s way of saying, I feel that. I’m processing. I’m letting go.
You’ll notice in the video I pause often—sometimes stepping back with my hands in my pockets. That pause is intentional. It’s the rest note in the music of bodywork. Without it, the song would be monotone. The pause is what tells the horse, I hear you. I’m listening. It transforms the moment into a two-way conversation.
The Sway
Every horse teaches something new. From Warrior, I learned to listen to what I now call the Sway.
Sometimes, during deep relaxation, horses begin a subtle rhythmic motion—side to side, like a tide. It feels connected to both breath and the craniosacral rhythms that move through all living beings. Warrior’s sway was steady and pronounced. I followed it, attuned myself to it, and later brought that sensitivity into a session with a domestic horse. The results were profound.
Noticing Warrior’s tidal swaying movements with a myofascial technique of The Masterson Method.
Being Seen in a New Way
What stayed with me most was how the herd didn’t interact. They didn’t seek touch or human validation. Many of them are blind, and it felt as though they “see” with their entire presence.
We as humans need to touch horses, feel regarded by them, be seen. This herd operates differently. Perhaps in large part because many of them are blind. They seem to "see" with their whole body, and not just their eyes and ears.
Often, after a day of equine bodywork, the horses come to mind, over and over as I drift off to sleep. Last night was one of those nights, though what was calling to me was the collective energy of the herd, and not one individual horse. This is what echoed into the evening: being seen by their whole bodies without even knowing I was being seen.
That kind of seeing—body to body, energy to energy—is the same kind of listening I strive for in my work with both horses and humans. It’s a conversation beneath words. A remembering of how to connect through stillness.