The Power Balance Between Ground and Saddle

When we ride, whether consciously or not, we hold the dominant position. We become the 80% in the relationship: directing, steering, setting the pace, and shaping the path. From the horse’s perspective, this imbalance of power can lead to compliance that appears like partnership, but may in fact be rooted in avoidance. Horses are incredibly intelligent and adaptable; they learn quickly how to minimise discomfort, to follow cues not necessarily out of understanding or connection, but because it feels like the safer choice.

When we are on their back, we carry physical leverage, mental expectation, and years of conditioning—both ours and the horse’s—that reinforce this uneven dynamic. It’s easy to mistake quietness for consent, or stillness for softness. But true willingness can't be measured only by what we get from a horse—it must also be seen in what they offer freely.

Groundwork invites a different kind of truth.

Here, we meet the horse at eye level—literally and metaphorically. We lose the advantage of elevation, of tack, of control through contact. On the ground, it's a 50-50 conversation. The horse has more choice to say "no," to walk away, to question us. And that is exactly why groundwork is such a powerful teacher.

When we communicate from the ground, we have the opportunity to earn connection. We build the relationship not through dominance, but through dialogue. The horse's responses in groundwork are often more honest, more revealing. We begin to see where the holes are—in trust, in understanding, in clarity. We also begin to notice when the horse starts to offer their focus, curiosity, and willingness to be with us—not because they must, but because they want to.

This doesn’t mean riding cannot be part of a deep relationship. But when groundwork comes first, it becomes the foundation on which riding is built. If we start with consent and curiosity, we’re far more likely to carry those qualities into the saddle. The more we tune into the horse's perspective, the less we rely on submission as a training tool—and the closer we get to true partnership.

Groundwork doesn’t just teach the horse—it teaches us. It strips us of the shortcuts and asks us to lead with feel, with respect, with patience. It is not about getting the horse to move, but about learning how to move together. And that, in the end, is what genuine horsemanship is all about.

Photos copyright: Jack Hobbs.