He Was Good for Something

New house, new school, new neighbourhood - a lot had changed in the eight short years I had been on planet Earth. I liked my bedroom; it was way better than my last one. Getting away from my annoying younger brothers had become one of my daily missions. I wanted to be anywhere they weren't.

Summer holidays had just started, so I had two months of being home with them twenty-four seven. Exploring the big fields behind our new house became my top priority. One afternoon, as I wandered through the tall grass looking for a place to hide, I heard a sound I'd never heard before - a horse nickered to me.

I had only seen horses in books or on television, or from the back seat of a car. I had never been close to one. But directly next door to our house stood a big pasture with a lone horse in it - a big chestnut gelding. He terrified me, in the best possible way. He was the largest animal I had ever seen.

I walked over to the fence where he stood waiting. I picked the tallest bunch of grass I could find and held it out with my arm stretched as far as it would go. Slowly, over a few days, I became brave enough to touch him. To my surprise and delight, his coat was soft, his eyes were kind, and his breath on my head was warm and smelled like hay. His mane and tail were tangled with burdocks, those prickly burs I'd recently discovered myself. His white legs were stained greenish-yellow. He was unkempt - but to me, he was magnificent.

As the hot days of summer dragged on, I visited him daily with carrots stuffed in my pockets. One day, an old cowboy wandered over to the fence. I thought I was in trouble and was ready to run, but he called out, "His name's Jigger! He ain't good for much anymore - just like me - but if you're gonna hang out by my fence, make yourself useful. Brush him. I've got a bum leg and can't get out here much anymore."

He left a bucket of brushes by the gate and shuffled back to his house. He had no idea he had just unlocked a gate to my inner world.

He Was Good for Something

The more time I spent with Jigger, the more I learned - not just about horses, but about myself. Horses don't let you hide from your truth. Jigger never let me pretend I wasn't angry, frustrated, or distracted. If I showed up disconnected from myself, I usually ended up picking myself up off the ground. He insisted on emotional honesty.

Jigger was teaching me to listen inward - to find my own pace, to recognize how I felt, and to take responsibility for it. I didn't know it at the time, but he was guiding me toward something deeper: a kind of rhythm within myself. Awareness, understanding, empathy, and presence - I was learning a language without words. On the days I truly tuned in, Jigger and I moved together like partners. We found a shared gait - not just on the ground, but in our connection.

Eventually, we parted ways. Children grow up, and old horses pass on. But what he taught me never faded.

Even after 50 years with horses, I'm still learning. That old cowboy was wrong - Jigger was good for something. He helped me find the first steps of what I now call an InnerGait - a path of emotional truth, mindful movement, and honest connection. Today, I walk alongside others as they discover their own.

This story is where InnerGait was born - in the quiet connection between an old horse and a little girl who learned, for the first time, how to listen inward and walk with truth.