Healing Hearts Ranch Oly

06/01/2026

06/01/2026

A horse who won't take the treat is not always being difficult.

Sometimes they are telling you something far more important than "yes."

For many humans, a horse accepting food feels like connection.

And sometimes it is.

But sometimes a horse is too stressed to eat.
Too vigilant to relax.
Too overwhelmed to care about the reward being offered.

Yet we often keep trying to persuade them.

Another treat.
A different approach.
A little more encouragement.

Because we assume the goal is to get the horse to accept what we're offering.

But what if the more important question is:

Why don't they feel safe enough to take it?

I think some of the most meaningful moments happen when we stop trying to change the answer and become curious about it.

Because declining is communication too.

And there is something powerful that happens when a horse realizes they don't have to pretend to be comfortable in order to be accepted.

Sometimes trust isn't built when the horse takes the treat.

Sometimes trust is built when they don't...
and we listen anyway.

06/01/2026

We don’t need touch or make contact or crowd close in shared space to have a strong connection.

A horse who looks away from you is not always disconnected.

Sometimes they are regulating.

Humans often imagine connection as eye contact.
Attention.
Engagement.

But horses are different.

Sometimes looking away is how they process.
How they think.
How they soften pressure.
How they stay present without becoming overwhelmed.

Yet so many of us have been taught to interpret those moments as disrespect.

"Pay attention."
"Focus."
"Don't ignore me."

But what if the horse isn't withdrawing from the relationship?

What if they're trying to stay in it?

I think one of the most beautiful things we can learn from horses is that connection does not always look like intensity.

Sometimes connection looks like space.

Sometimes it looks like a lowered head.
A deep breath.
Eyes turning away from pressure.

And sometimes the greatest gift we can offer another being is not more engagement.

It's enough safety that they don't have to stay hypervigilant to remain connected.

05/31/2026

First Friday of each month. See you there!

05/31/2026

Summer evenings on the farm are back! ☀️

Join us on the first Wednesday of each month this summer for Wednesdays on the Farm at GRuB. Whether you want to get your hands in the soil during open volunteer hours, take a farm tour, learn something new at a workshop, get some starts at the plant sale, or enjoy mocktails and a food demo, there’s something for everyone!

Our first gathering is Wednesday, June 3, featuring:
✱ Open Volunteer Hours (5–7 PM)
✱ Farm Tours (5:30 & 6 PM)
✱ Mocktails + Food Demo (6–7 PM)
✱ GRuB Garden Workshop: Weeds 101 (6–8 PM)
✱ Plant Sale (5-7 PM)

Anyone who was planning to attend the Youth Program Fundraising Evening is invited to join us for updates on the Youth Program and ways to stay connected to this important work.

We hope you’ll spend a summer evening (or three!) with us on the GRuB farm. Let us know if you’re coming at this link! 💗🌱

…

https://goodgrub.app.neoncrm.com/nx/portal/neonevents/events?path=%2Fportal%2Fevents%2F46886

05/31/2026

💜

05/31/2026

Renton Police detectives have arrested Derek Nelson, a former youth pastor at Highlands Community Church, on suspicion of second-degree child molestation and first-degree voyeurism, both felonies.
Nelson was taken into custody on Wednesday evening as he left work and was booked into the Thurston County Jail. According to the victims, both incidents took place during church functions in Thurston County. The molestation charge involves an incident in April 2015 when the victim was 13 years old. The voyeurism charge stems from a separate incident in February 2019 when the victim was 17 years old.
Detectives believe there may be additional victims. If you have information related to this case, please contact Det. Scott Barfield at [email protected].
Case #21-3228

05/25/2026

Maybe horses were never meant to teach us how to exert dominance.

Maybe they came to teach us relationship.

The longer I spend around horses, the more I wonder if we misunderstood the lesson.

For generations, people have looked to horses as teachers of leadership, authority, and control.

We admired the person who could make a thousand-pound animal obey.

We built entire philosophies around gaining respect, establishing hierarchy, and becoming the one in charge.

And perhaps some of that was understandable. Horses are large, powerful animals. Learning to live safely alongside them matters.

But what if safety was never the deepest lesson they had to offer?

What if the real gift of horses has always been something far more challenging?

Relationship.

Not the kind of relationship where one being gets to decide and the other is expected to comply.

The kind where two individuals learn to listen.

The kind where trust cannot be demanded.

The kind where connection is built, not taken.

Because horses have a way of exposing things in us that humans often miss.

They notice our tension before we speak.
They notice our impatience before we act.
They notice when our words and our energy tell different stories.

And unlike people, they are rarely impressed by our titles, achievements, credentials, or explanations.

They respond to what we are.

That is a difficult teacher.

A horse does not care how much power you have.
A horse cares whether you feel safe.
Whether you are predictable.
Whether being near you brings comfort or stress.

In that way, horses may be among the greatest relationship teachers on earth.

Because relationship asks more of us than dominance ever will.

Dominance asks:
“How do I get my way?”

Relationship asks:
“How do we find a way together?”

Dominance seeks compliance.

Relationship seeks understanding.

Dominance is concerned with control.

Relationship is concerned with connection.

And perhaps that is why so many people find themselves changing after years with horses.

Not because they learned how to command better.

But because they learned how to listen better.

How to soften.
How to become curious.
How to slow down enough to hear what another being is trying to communicate.

I sometimes think the most profound horses are not the ones that carry us where we want to go.

They are the ones that stop us long enough to question where we are going in the first place.

Maybe that is why horses continue to captivate us after thousands of years.

Not because they make us feel powerful.

But because they invite us into a different way of being.

A way rooted not in force, but in partnership.

Not in winning, but in understanding.

Not in dominance, but in relationship.

And perhaps that was the lesson all along.

05/21/2026

A horse who walks away from you is not always rejecting you.

Sometimes they are checking whether you will follow the old pattern:
pressure,
insistence,
capture.

Many horses have learned that humans often respond to distance by closing it.
By advancing.
Correcting.
Convincing.
Escalating.

So when a horse leaves, it is not always defiance.

Sometimes it is a question.

“What will you do with my honesty?”

Will you allow the conversation to stay honest?
Or will the moment their answer becomes inconvenient, the pressure begin?

I think this is where so many relationships quietly change.

Because there is a moment horses seem to recognize something rare:
the moment they realize they are still safe even after expressing discomfort, uncertainty, or preference.

The moment they realize:
“Oh…
you heard me.”

Not just physically.
Emotionally.

You heard the hesitation in their body.
The uncertainty in their eyes.
The tension in their nervous system.
The quiet request underneath the movement away.

And instead of overpowering the communication, you listened.

I think humans often underestimate how profound that can feel to another being.

Especially to one who has spent much of their life learning that resistance leads to more pressure.

That is why some of the deepest trust I have ever witnessed did not begin with a horse moving toward someone.

It began with a horse discovering they were allowed to move away without punishment.

Because sometimes what looks like “disconnection” is actually the first fragile attempt at honesty.

And sometimes the greatest transformation is not teaching the horse to stay.

Sometimes it is teaching them they no longer need to flee to feel heard.

Not obedience.
Not submission.

Relief.