The Art of Standing Still

On Wednesday this past week I had a training session with Ranger, one of my weekly rides, focused entirely on learning the art of standing still. This training session with Ranger didn’t involve high-speed spins, intricate patterns, or fancy footwork. It wasn’t about movement at all; it was about stillness. Believe it or not, standing still can be one of the hardest things for a horse to learn, and one of the most important.

We often celebrate motion in the horse world. Forward is progress. Movement is training. But the ability to be still, calm, and mentally present is a skill that’s often overlooked and underestimated. That’s what we worked on with Ranger this past week, and he reminded me just how valuable this lesson is.

It was brought to the attention of Rangers owner and me that he has a very difficult time holding still and remaining focused when not in the presence of his pasture mate, Rocko. To recreate this situation, I took Ranger away from Rocko and out on the trails. Almost instantly, Ranger became antsy. His feet were busy, his attention flickering. He was focusing on the fact that he was away from Rocko, not the ride itself.

I started by finding a mostly flat area at an open spot in the woods. Then we did some bending circles at the walk, followed by trotting. I went about the normal workout that I do with Ranger for the first ten minutes or so, asking for his attention and focus through work, which he gave.

Then came the hard part: asking for a stop and waiting. Not forcing stillness but offering the idea. At first, he was unable to stand still for longer than a second. His ears immediately turned toward the direction he knew Rocko was in, and he began moving without direction from me, losing all focus. I corrected this by asking calmly but sternly for movement (trotting circles), but in a direction that I controlled. There was no drama, just a reset. After trotting some circles and asking for his focus to return, I would stop again. Each time he chose to stay still, I let the moment hang, a little longer each time. No pressure, no pulling. Just presence. If he chose to move, then we would move, but not in the direction he would have liked. When he chose to stay still, we would stay still, allowing him to rest.

Slowly, he began to realize that moving and losing focus would only mean more work, typically in the form of circles which would get him no closer to Rocko. However, if he stood still, he was able to rest and remain focused in the moment. Finally, there had been a turning point, a moment of realization. That first deep breath. The softened eye. The weight shift into a relaxed stance. Ranger started to settle. Not just physically, but mentally. He started to understand that stillness and being without his friend didn’t mean uncertainty and fear, it meant safety. It meant trust. It meant he could rest, even in the presence of a human asking something of him.

This kind of stillness isn’t about obedience, it’s about relationship. It’s about teaching our horses that they don’t need to fidget or flee or be with another equine to cope. It’s about them learning that we are their comfort, and that when riding they can look to us for direction. That we’re worth listening to, even in silence. That being still is not passive, it’s powerful.

Ranger reminded me that standing still takes practice. It takes patience. But when it clicks, it changes everything. A horse that can stand quietly even in a moment of intensity is a horse that’s thinking, trusting, and tuned in.

So, here’s your reminder: don’t overlook the quiet moments in your training. They might just be the most meaningful ones.

Ranger, Standing Still