The signals we give, with our seat, hands and legs are the vocabulary we use. But a language is more than a collection of random, isolated words. Our aids have a grammar. Our aids form sentences. Our horses will understand us better if we use signals that fit together to create coherent meaning.
Our aids also have tone and inflection - i.e. the intensity, frequency, and duration of our signals. We can adjust the way we say something, according to who we’re talking to, and the type of conversation we’re aiming to have. Like any language, we can use aids rudely, or politely. We can use our aids to foster resentment and tension, or to clarify and explain. We can use our aids to lecture the horse, without listening first, or to have a two-way conversation. We can use aids when our horses are ready to hear them - or not.
Like any language foreign to us, aids take time to teach and learn. We can’t blame the horse for not understanding our first bumbling, mis-pronounced efforts. But our work does not stop when we’ve mastered the vocabulary and grammar. Just because we’re competent in the language of the aids does not mean we are expert communicators. Just because we’re fluent in the language of the aids doesn’t mean we use them with tact, timing, feel, and consideration. We can use the language of our aids to shout and criticize, or to have a mutually respectful conversation. We can use the language of our aids to fight and argue, or to create meaning and connection. We can use aids to curse and threaten - or to write poetry.
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