MANAGING WITH AHIMSA AND HORSE SENSE: Book Chapter

by Grace Ann Rosile

Chapter accepted for Jerry Biberman & Mike Whitty (Eds.) "The Spirit and Work Reader" (University of Scranton Press, to be published 2000).

ABOUT THE AUTHOR:

I am Grace Ann Rosile. I have a Ph.D. is in Business Administration, and Master's Degrees in both Hospital Administration and Business Administration from the University of Pittsburgh. I have taught management courses for 20 years at the undergraduate as well as graduate levels. My research and consulting has focused on storytelling for organizational change, and postmodern perspectives on management. Another side of my life involved over 10 years of experience owning and operating a "full-service" horse business. Also, for 20 years I have been a student of Jain philosophy as presented by Gurudev Chitrabhanuji. From Jain philosophy I learned about the concept of Ahimsa, or "reverence for life." My current work on "Managing with Horse Sense" comes out of the intersection of my efforts to practice Ahimsa, my management experience, and my horse business experience.

Note: Portions of this article are drawn from "Managing with Ahimsa and Horse Sense, published in March of 1999 on the website www.spiritatwork.com.

Horse Sense and Ahimsa

For me, the term "horse sense" refers to what I learned about life, relationships, and management, from over 10 years of training horses. It is what the horses have taught me. And many of you may know that Ahimsa is the concept embraced by Gandhi, which is at the core of the Jain (from India) philosophy. Ahimsa* (see endnote) comes from a Sanskrit word which means "non-harmfulness." Ahimsa is not a religion; rather it is a daily spiritual practice of enhanced mindfulness and awareness. In the process of living, we can not help but cause some harm. The spiritual path of Ahimsa asks that I constantly strive to minimize the harm I do in the world.

But what does horse sense have to do with Ahimsa? Horse sense is based upon my ability to understand how my horse thinks and feels. Since a horse does not speak, I had to develop a heightened awareness of subtle cues, body language, and the look in the eye, to know what a horse is "saying." In addition to understanding the horse, I learned to be understood, by using many verbal and non-verbal means of getting my message across to the horse. The skills I developed through this combination of "listening" and "speaking" to horses, allowed me to avoid inadvertently harming or frightening, allowed me to build trust, and allowed me to overcome fear (my own and the horse's). Ultimately, I learned to "connect" with horses by establishing a loving, trusting, and understanding environment. This "connecting" goes beyond mere communicating. For me, it is a very spiritual experience, perhaps the essence of spirituality.

I realized my horse-related skills worked with people too, especially when I consciously applied them. This conscious application to human relationships at work, can yield the same benefits of greater love, trust, and understanding in the workplace.

Here is one story of how my young Arabian stallion Nahdique (pronounced nah deek') taught me something about practicing Ahimsa. He taught me that showing reverence for life can be the simple acknowledgment of that life, and that the absence of that acknowledgment can be very painful to others. It happened like this.

It was during a period when I was even busier than usual, teaching full-time at the university, running my horse business, and training my three Arabian stallions every day. To fit everything in I was riding Nahdique at 6 or 7am. On these chilly Pennsylvania mornings I would enter his stall, put his halter on his head, lead him into the concrete aisle and tie him in place. I would quickly begin to groom and then saddle him. I began to notice that each day he was becoming more restless, acting like he might kick me, and beginning to snap at me. As he was getting worse, I was getting less patient. We had WORK to do!

One morning I was again issuing another sharp "no!" and I was about to smack him on the neck to get his attention so he could "hear" my message. Suddenly I stopped, and I realized HE had been trying to get MY attention. That morning, an awareness began. I paused to really look at Nahdique. I saw his body, tense and prepared to dodge the slap which he was clearly expecting. I saw his eyes, looking rebellious and resentful. I stopped, went to his right side, and looked into his eye. He watched me warily. I said slowly, "I'm sorry, buddy. I SEE you. I'm glad you're here." I put a hand out, then hugged his neck. I stepped back, and saw the anger fade from his eyes leaving some righteous resentfulness. Then his look said "well okay, I guess I'll accept your apology." I stroked his neck again, and then he looked calm and content. The "apology" took only a minute. We continued our work with no further problems. After that, each morning I would look in this eyes and feel that connection for just a second. Then I would pat him and say "Hi buddy, how are you this morning?"

One morning a few weeks later, as I walked into his stall I was worried about some other issues. Without thinking about what I was doing, I stood motionless and I sent a mental message, "Hi buddy, can I have a hug this morning?" To my surprise he did something he never had done before. He calmly lifted his head from the hay he was munching, and he gently rested his chin on my shoulder.

What did I learn from this? I had wanted that "connected" feeling of wondrous joy at communicating with one of God's most beautiful creations, the horse. In this insidious culture of productivity, speed and efficiency, I had allowed my work to overshadow the importance of my relationships. Ironically, both the relationship and the work suffered. It took a horse to get my attention, to bring me back to awareness that my ultimate reason for working with horses was to experience that connected feeling. And then, when the relationship worked, the work was better too.

If such small gestures can be so important to "even" a horse, how much more important might they be to a person? Nahdique taught me that in business and in life, Ahimsa can be the simple acknowledgment of a fellow living being. A simple greeting can become a joyous affirmation of the connectedness of all life. One connection at a time, is what it is all about. It's just horse sense.

To use horse sense to best promote understanding and enhance spirituality in the workplace, I recommend the following three strategies:

1. that we incorporate direct experience as a preferred methodology, relegating written texts to the role of serving the cause of direct experience;

2. that we deepen the centuries-old practice of looking to nature to understand our world from a spiritual perspective, and

3. that we use horses for the opportunity they offer us, to have a direct experience of Nature which is a close parallel with interpersonal relationships in the workplace.

I will address each of the above three points in turn.

1. DIRECT EXPERIENCE AS PART OF LEARNING

The concept of "direct experience" was explicitly identified as a component in the theoretical model of learning widely popularized by Kolb and others in the 60s and 70s (see Kolb, 1984). However, learning through direct experience is still rather rare in our educational systems.

How can we reap the benefits of direct experience without giving up the value of collective knowledge? I suggest that narratives can serve this purpose.

Narratives are the communication medium of experience. Historically, one thing we see from cultures which are non-literate is that narratives play an important part in their learning and understanding. These narratives are stories, which means they have action, plot, characters, and some underlying theme or "moral" (Boje and Dennehy, 1994). In other words, narratives vicariously convey direct experience.

2. THE DIRECT EXPERIENCE OF NATURE AS A WAY OF LEARNING

We commonly think of Thoreau when we think of great philosophers who recommended the benefits of a direct experience of the natural environment. One recent study found that most respondents cited time spent outdoors in nature as the most common source of spiritual renewal. Warren Grossman (1999) presents a new twist on this old idea. He suggests that the earth's energy field truly operates as a nourishing mother. He presents evidence that direct physical contact with the earth (for example, standing barefoot on the ground) provides great physical, emotional, and spiritual healing.

Steingard and Fitzgibbons (1999) call for organizational studies in the new millennium to integrate both intellectual and experiential approaches, and to incorporate "a greater understanding of our relationship to the natural world..." (p. 537). This relationship would not be based on dominating or transcending the natural world, but rather being an integral part of it, beyond the man/nature false dualism. They call this approach "Integral Organizational Studies."

3. LEARNING, SPIRITUALITY, AND HORSES

We have seen that direct experience offers us something unique and irreplaceable in the learning process. The direct experience of nature is acknowledged to be a common path to greater spiritual awareness. Given that we can learn about humanity and spirituality from nature, I suggest that working with horses provides an opportunity for learning which is spiritually grounded and also uniquely relevant to our relationships in the workplace. I use the language of direct experience (that is, narrative), to offer my experiences in this area. I ask that the reader remember that the value of the story lies in your ability to make it your own. I offer my interpretations only as a starting point, because some of what I learned from these experiences I know I can only convey with you, me, and a horse all present. This I do in my workshops called "Horse Sense"(copyright 1999). These workshops offer experiences with obvious, direct, practical relevance to the workplace, while simultaneously being personal and spiritual.

People have different definitions of what is spiritual to them. My stories offer personal insights, gained not through some mystical process or spiritual experience but through common daily interaction with horses. If you agree with me that shoveling manure is an enjoyable meditative process (I truly love it), then this is a spiritual experience also. Feeling a connection with a horse as we work together, is an experience which is spiritual, physical, mental, emotional, aesthetic, and practical all at once.

Some people may have explicitly spiritual experiences with animals, as reported by Manes:

" ...the stories I collected from people who have had spiritual experiences involving animals almost always involved personal insights, often occurring in the most private realm of dreams, and often so personal the storyteller could not even say what the experience meant, only that it was meaningful." (Manes, 1999, p. 67)

I do not consider my experiences to be directly "spiritual" as such. I cite Manes' quote here, because my daily work with horses often leaves me feeling that I do not know what these experiences have meant, yet I am completely convinced that they are deeply meaningful. I encourage you to allow yourself the gift of such experiences.

A Final Story

At a conference of prominent academics in the field of discourse and organizational change, I took a big risk and told my "horse stories." The main point of these stories was (and is) to demonstrate the management implications of the best kind of horse and human partnerships. I believe these partnerships work best when characterized by mutual respect, mutual empowerment, and mutual trust. (With horses, you also need mutual liking or love. Whether that is true in human organizations is a story for another time.)

After telling several of my stories, I was responding to questions. A gentleman with a French-sounding accent asked, was I not perpetuating hierarchical notions of worker/manager with my horse/rider analogies, since the horse and rider could never change places? I explained that my main point was exactly the opposite, that only outsiders falsely perceived the rider to be completely dominant; my point was that the partnership was more that of equals. He did not agree. After several attempts to convince him that he had misunderstood my message, the gentleman still argued that I was promoting a managerialist view. Running out of both time and counter-arguments, I said "YOU sit on that horse and tell me you are in control!" And everyone laughed.

My final response was not just a clever retort. It reflects the main reason I use my "horse stories." These stories are direct experience. The learning I received from those experiences, can be only partially conveyed through language. It is the concrete, physical experience which adds a different dimension to our understanding. When I have told this story to other expert riders, they nod knowingly at that non-horse-person's views. They assume a non-rider will not understand what they have learned through experience. Still, many will vicariously experience the events I recount, and gain their own insights. So I work to be better at telling the stories, and I recommend my workshops or your

own "field research" for direct learning experiences.

I have always liked what I once heard: that we are not physical beings learning to be spiritual; rather, we are spiritual beings learning to be physical.

We can be physically spiritual.

Horses can teach us some of these lessons.

End note:

*Ahimsa, or reverence for life, means respecting the right of all living things to live. For Jains (and for me), it means being vegetarian and not eating meat, fish, or poultry, and avoiding animal products like leather and silk. Ahimsa means non-violence. Practicing Ahimsa means living in such as way as to minimize the inevitable violence we commit every day, thanking even the plants for giving their lives to nourish us. Typically, Jains would not engage in any animal-related businesses. Elsewhere, I have a long explanation of what this means to me as a rider. In brief, such concerns have led me to leave the horse business, and to restrict my riding to that which is mutually beneficial to myself and to the horse (we provide exercise for each other). I continue to question my relationship to horses, to make it as non-exploitive as possible.

In the Jain philosophy, the attitude of non-violence must extend also to non-violence in thoughts and beliefs. Thus, Jains do no missionary work. They believe that trying to persuade another that their ideas are wrong, does violence to that other person's beliefs. In summary, Ahimsa is not a religion, but is a way of living (and managing) with a heightened awareness of the implications of our actions.

Boje, D., and Dennehy, R. (1994). Managing in the Postmodern World. Dubuque IA: Kendall Hunt Publishers.

Grossman, Warren (1998) To Be Healed by the Earth. Cleveland, Ohio: The Institute of Light.

Illich, I. (19**) In the Vineyard of the Text.

Kolb, 1984 (cited in Steingard & Fitzgibbons)

Manes, Christopher (1997). Other Creations: Rediscovering the Spirituality of Animals. New York: Doubleday.

Steingard, D., and D. Fitzgibbons (1999). "R/E-volution in organizational Theory: Organizational Science, Organizational Studies, and Integral Organizational Studies" in Biberman, J., and Alkhafaji, A. (Eds.), Business Research Yearbook, Vol. VI, pp.534-538.