The Power of Stillness: What a Malinois and a Mustang Taught Me About Strength

Perhaps this is a continuation of my last post.

In my previous life in Special Operations, I had the privilege of observing not only elite human teams, but also highly skilled working animals. I remember watching a working dog, a Belgian Malinois, during bite-sleeve training. Every fiber of every muscle in that dog's body trembled with anticipation. Everything in it wanted to explode forward. Yet its only assignment was this:

Stay.

Wait for the command.

The dog wasn't still in the way we often think of stillness. It wasn't relaxed. It wasn't passive. It was absolutely alive with intensity. Every ounce of its power had been gathered into a single act of disciplined restraint. That moment changed the way I understood power. Standing perfectly still, that dog revealed more of its capability than many ever do in motion.

Years later, in another chapter of my life, I found myself sitting bareback on a mustang named Wishbone. I hesitate to even call him mine, because how can a human consciously claim to own something so inherently wild? We had fumbled our way through enough questions that he trusted me to sit astride his back. We had even managed a few cautious steps down a gravel road. Then he simply stopped.

I asked.

I released.

I tried my right calf and right rein.

Then my left.

Then both.

I reasoned.

I negotiated.

I pleaded.

I even argued a little.

Nothing.

That 1,100-pound teacher simply stood.

Like a stone.

Like a mountain.

No fight. No buck. No rear. Just rooted, unwavering presence, while my ego quietly unraveled one more time on his back.

When I got home, I called my friend Justin Dunn of American Mustang School, with just enough self-righteousness in my voice to betray my assumption that I occupied the moral high ground.

"I don't know what I'm doing wrong," I said. "He just locks down... shuts down."

There was a pause.

Then Justin said something I'll never forget.

"What a privilege."

"A privilege?"

"Yeah, Darin. Most people never get to witness that much power being applied toward staying in one place. Let alone feel it while sitting on top of it. We spend most of our lives hurrying from here to there without ever considering how much strength it takes to simply remain still. When you're working with horses—especially mustangs—this is all feedback."

The moment he said it, I saw it.

Another lesson from the greatest coach in my life: the Horse.

Wishbone was simply revealing me.

My urgency.

My assumptions.

My need to make something happen.

How many times have I mistaken movement for momentum...or motion for progress? How often have I hurried through situations that invited me to simply observe, absorb, and become curious instead?

I'm grateful for that lesson from Wishbone, and I suspect there will be many more. The equine world offers an endless supply of teachers disguised as horses.

But for now, this is the lesson I'm carrying with me:

There is extraordinary power in remaining still.

In a world obsessed with motion, perhaps presence is the greater strength.

Maybe the next time life—or a horse—asks you to stop, the question isn't, "How do I get moving again?"

Maybe the better question is, "What can only be learned by standing still?"

Still...

Here.

Darin