Dan Gillie

My obsession with horses began in early childhood. Every year my parents would ask, “What do you want for Christmas?” And every year my response was, “A horse!” Being too poor to ever afford a horse, my only recourse was the occasional summer horse camp and reading books about horse training. As a result, my training as a horseman began as a teenager when I read Podhajsky’s The Complete Training of Horse and Rider. That book opened a door for me into the world of horse training through which I walked and never looked back. After reading Podhajsky, I was fascinated with all things Spanish Riding School. In my twenties I was most lucky to discover Karl Mikolka, the last living connection to Max Ritter von Weyrother, one of the most celebrated chief riders in the history of the Spanish Riding School. The Mikolka Method carries the authority of four centuries of classical horsemanship.

As an adult, the horse barn was my stress relief and escape from the pressures of a professional working life. Although seemingly unrelated, the skills of the laboratory and the skills of the riding arena share more than most people think. These two constant areas of my life have not been in conflict but in quiet conversation with each other. The Mikolka Method was always applied in service of the horse. My science was always focused on helping people. Little did I know how much I would desperately need both.

Aragorn was my first horse and my first real test of the Mikolka Method. He was born with a front leg deformity, and classical gymnastic training became his physical therapy. He gained strength, muscle, agility, and confidence. The quality and range of his movement improved. It would be many more years before I knew how much further beyond horse training these methods could reach.

As I worked with my daughter Kelly these last two years, I discovered the same methods that rebuilt Aragorn were equally transformational for her recovery from the ravages of autistic catatonia. After each session, the horses returned to her what no clinical setting had been able to give back: movement, presence, and a renewed connection to reality that had been stolen by her illness.

The precise gymnastic principles that had kept Aragorn sound were now reaching my daughter. The direction of healing had simply reversed, and my horsemanship was now guiding my science.

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