Lessons from Levi the Horse

Picture: David Harris/Global Warriors

On a cold, wet November day in 2024 I met Levi, a horse that would endlessly expand my appreciation of emotional connection. I had been invited by Global Warriors to join their Equine Guided Development Day at Foxley Green Farm for an experience ‘designed to unlock self-awareness, build trust and empower authentic leadership for individuals and teams’.

November was a particularly difficult time for me. Like so many other humanitarian workers, I was contending with the harsh truth that loyalty, longevity, knowledge and accomplishment count for little when institutions are in decline. Impending separation had sent my body back into post-traumatic shock. I was twenty-five years old again, reliving the infamous siege of Malanje in Angola and suffering the guilt and shame of rejection; a debilitating personal psychodrama that blended an unhealthy past with a wounding present to cut soul deep.

My incredible network of close support had rallied to keep me afloat such that I was just about managing but I was unsure about attending the equine day, not least because I’d always been nervous around horses. I was bitten by a horse as an infant, and ever since I’d carried a subconscious fear of them. Still, my natural curiosity got the better of me and I went along. Little did I know that the day would be such a profound experience.

My grandfather worked his Welsh hill farm with Clydesdales, huge and powerful beasts. Indeed, there was an oft-told family tale about a Clydesdale called Damson almost trampling my aunt. As a child, she had fallen in Damson’s galloping path but the horse had leapt over her tiny prone form to avoid causing her harm. As the Global Warriors website explains, ‘Horses have been around for sixty million years and are masters at leading through uncertainty. Their leadership is sensory and fluid, courageous and sensitive. Finely tuned to herd dynamics, it is grounded in the present, able to change direction mid-stride to escape threats or explore higher or more fertile ground.’

Levi, one of five in the herd, was a ‘stroppy teenager’ according to our expert equine coaches. Known for being rather aloof on first acquaintance, Levi didn’t offer trust as easily as the others. First, we were shown how to approach the horses properly. You must never come towards a horse from behind; that is perceived as a threat. Nor must you advance head-on, because that is also intimidating. Instead, you close in from the side, where the horse can see you and feel in control. This respectful, non-threatening approach creates the foundations of trust.

As I approached Levi, he immediately sensed my hesitance and bit me lightly on my outstretched hand, as if to explain that if I wouldn’t be honest with him, he was going to provide straightforward feedback. ‘Open hearts, open minds’ Global Warriors say. Levi was in no mood for the tentative interactions of a mistrustful stranger.

Horses are remarkably attuned to human emotions and physiological signals. They can detect a human's heartbeat from several feet away. This ability, combined with their keen observation skills, allows them to pick up on subtle changes in posture, breathing, and emotional states. Horses are social, prey animals that rely on non-verbal cues to communicate and assess threats. Their ability to synchronise heart rates with humans—especially in calming interactions—demonstrates their unique capacity for emotional mirroring. This is part of why equine-assisted therapy is so effective; horses respond dynamically to human emotions, helping people develop greater self-awareness and emotional regulation.

More enlightened by the painless nip than afraid, I was determined not to give up on Levi. With encouragement from the coaches, I came back a second time, focused on regulating my breathing and slowing down my movements. I placed my hand on Levi’s side and it immediately felt different. I could instinctively tell Levi had felt my present state and was prepared to offer support. He became still and turned his head towards me as we breathed together. I felt the emotional turmoil inside me subside.

It was time to build a deeper relationship with Levi that went beyond physical attunement by demonstrating gentle disdain, demanding a little personal space. I was shown how to prompt Levi to move away, as if asking him to leave me alone. After a short while, he began to circle me slowly, licking and chewing, and eventually lowering his head. It was Levi’s way of saying, “It’s okay. I really do want to be friends.” That moment of testing our mutual respect, understanding and connection, is when the true bond was formed.

Eventually I was encouraged to walk Levi around the training arena. Though my confidence was growing, this suddenly felt like a big challenge so I silently asked Levi for help. “Do me a favour, buddy, I’m not doing very well at the moment and I need you to look after me.” To my amazement, I knew with absolutely certainty that Levi understood completely. What happened next was magical. Without pulling or pushing, Levi followed me around the arena. No ropes, no force. Levi was with me, emotionally present simply because we had connected at a deep level. We had shared space, felt each other and come to respect one another’s being. Walking by my side, Levi was a trusted and trusting companion, protecting my vulnerability his primary concern. Our shared moment moved me and the onlooking coaches to tears.

Picture: David Harris/Global Warriors

How could a horse called Levi create such a raw, intuitive bond? The answer lay in the powerful, wholesome intelligences we shared. Stood at Levi’s side, I could not recede into my cognitive mind. Instead, we communicated from our embodied states, trusting that physical intelligence and wisdom would guide our interaction. As my mind quietened, I became acutely aware of my somatic state. The more I focused on embodied awareness, the more I opened myself up to the experience. Levi, exquisitely attuned to his environment in ways far beyond human understanding, felt everything I was feeling and chose to make me feel safe.

Levi could sense the turmoil in my soul on that day. He could feel my emotional struggle and was willing to be there for me, a stranger turned companion for the day. We had just met, but Levi had become the closest of friends. The power of such emotional connection transcends languages, cultures and even species. It is a reminder that sometimes we just need to be seen, felt and respected. Levi taught me that the most profound connections happen when we allow ourselves to truly be present with other beings. In that shared space, where words are unnecessary, magic happens.