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The course will be held at Writtle College, an agricultural and countryside college, part of the University of Essex, and a very beautiful setting. Writtle College is close to Stansted Airport, with cheap flights from many parts of Europe, especially Ireland. (Details of Writtle College can be viewed on their website at www.writtle.ac.uk )
Accommodation is available within the college and in the surrounding area. Details and costs on request.
Numbers will be strictly limited, so early booking is strongly recommended.
Diana Letts has had a life long experience with horses, both through riding in many different activities, and looking after them. It is her work with horses which initially led her to study cranial work, first at CCST and more recently at Karuna. She has a rural practice and treats many horses as well as riders, and is continually inspired by the body’s innate intelligence. She also teaches children to ride through the pony club and is a student of chi gong and dao-yin (a daoist form of yoga), both of which help her riding and cranial practice enormously.
Mike Harrison has worked with horses and other animals over many years (initially with the Royal Saudi Airforce) and he has also been a tutor at CCST for many years. REVIEW - Introduction to Equine Craniosacral Therapy
The CCST organisation for this course was impeccable. I had been sent all the maps, directions and contact numbers necessary to make my journey as smooth as could be. I arrived at Writtle College in Essex early on a glorious Friday evening and met the jogging caretaker who took me to my simple but adequate accommodation.
Writtle College offers a beautiful venue. Set in the heart of Essex countryside, the college campus sprawls around the edges of Writtle village - its teaching facilities and accommodation surrounded by an extraordinary variety of trees, shrubs and plants.
Once I'd arranged my room I found some craniosacral colleagues with whom to share a meal in the village. It was Friday night in Writtle. While the locals took turns bungee jumping from a crane at the back of the pub we settled for typical English cuisine in an excellent Indian Restaurant on the village green.
I met more of my colleagues over breakfast in the College canteen. Craniosacral introductions always begin with the same questions - "Where did you train? With whom did you train?" I always feel that beneath these questions lies another - "do you do what I do - whatever that is?"
Mike and Diana led us through the formalities. We quickly shared our craniosacral and horse histories. We were given brief and useful notes. We were given access to a selection of books on horses to browse in the breaks - precise and colourful anatomical atlases and quirky little books by horse healers.
It soon became delightfully clear that we were not here for theory but for practice. We were all trained and experienced therapists. Mike assured us that our skills and knowledge were just as applicable to horses as to humans.
Mike and Diana introduced the first session - a general assessment of our horse. We were asked to work with a wide perceptual field - to look to the general - to the shape of the horse, how it occupied space, to the distribution of its form and energy.
Without further ado we took a brief walk to the stables to meet our horses. A row of curious, noble heads leaned over their doors to observe the newcomers. This was, perhaps, a welcome distraction from the tranquil, student-free days of the College summer holidays.
We led our horses out into the training paddock - its surface a wonderful bouncy layer of rubber and sand - much appreciated by Mike when he took a tumble trying to rein in a wayward horse.
And there we stood - three practitioners to each horse - observing and listening. Our group worked with Theo, a splendid young man with an unknown past and a pushy temperament.
Who better than a horse to teach the reality of a wide perceptual field? We followed their awareness out to the hedges and the birdsong, to the sky and the fields beyond the paddock - to the sounds of weekend England - of motor-mowers and single-engine planes, of trail bikes and high-performance cars.
We were reminded that the horse's system is constantly prepared to run. It is prey and we are its predator. We listened to them. We listened with them. In the midst of a world of action and activity, eight horses and 24 therapists settled into a deep and dynamic stillness.
Caroline who worked every day with these horses commented on the extraordinariness of the situation. Only then did I realise that this was not normal. Horses and humans don't usually stand around peacefully together. Usually humans do things with horses - push them, bridle them, saddle them, sit on them, demand and expect things from them.
During the break we drank tea in a cosy, sofa filled room that smelled of hay and horses and then returned to the classroom to recount our experiences - the feelings we picked up from the horses, our sense of their history and their needs. Sadness and loss were common themes.
The second assessment was to be more hands-on. Back in the paddock Diana demonstrated how and where we could touch. I'm sure we all sucked in our breath, as she stood right behind an enormous horse, holding the weight of his tail and then spanning his pelvis with her hands.
In her direct and quiet way, Diana transmitted her experience and her confidence, and inspired us all to action. Soon we were lifting feet, palpating muscles and joints, leaning our arms and bodies along the length of a horse, resting ourselves against those enormous breaths and tides.
The second day started with more specific evaluation of our horse. In theory we were not treating but it was clear that our diagnostic touch had already brought some change. Theo's shape was noticeably different - his weight more evenly distributed than before. His lower lip tended to tremble but now hung soft and loose from his face. Many times as we worked he closed his eyes, gently sleeping on his feet.
This process continued into the afternoon treatment session. Within minutes of beginning work the horse behind us took to her knees and rolled sleepily on the ground - in no great hurry to stand again. Theo stood firm although still drifting in and out of sleep often leaning his weight against us as we worked.
Another horse took to the ground, rolling and rolling in the sand and then standing again and shaking clean. Theo scraped the ground with his hoof. Caroline translated: "Let go of his rope, he wants to lie down". Theo slowly folded his legs and let his weight down. He didn't roll - just lay there with his legs tucked under and his head held high. He looked like a foal. I was left with a strong impression that he had just revisited his childhood.
The entire scene was deeply touching. Mike, who held the wide view throughout the sessions confirmed our work - confirmed the quite remarkable changes in the group of horses. We led them out from the paddock to the fields. They had done a good job. They had taught us well
For me the course was all I needed. The thought of working with horses had been stalking me for years. I often met horses, often found myself standing quietly beside them; sometimes let my hands rest against them. Mike and Diana generously and unpretentiously reassured us all that we could do this work, while the horses widened our perception and deepened our stillness.
Howard Evans
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