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Rhythm & Balance,
Trust & Confidence
Finding God in Hippotherapy
Shared Movement
Hippotherapy—the therapeutic use of horseback riding—offers a vivid embodiment of healing power as rhythmic movement, and of the conviction, held by process theologians, that something of divine love is present in rhythmic movement itself when enjoyed and shared in healing ways. Of course, we find shared movement in many contexts of life: in dance, in music-making, in the rituals of worship, in the give-and-take of conversation, in the playful interactions of children and animals, and in the subtle attunements of breathing together. Each of these moments reveals the grace of movement that is mutual, responsive, and alive.
Hippotherapy, then, is one of shared rhythmic movement — a setting where the rhythm of shared motion becomes a sacrament of relational healing, It participates in something deeper than itself: a cosmic rhythm incarnate in life on earth: a spirit of creative transformation, to use the language of process theology.
Who Benefits from Hippotherapy?
The human beneficiaries of such participation are well known and diverse: children and adults living with cerebral palsy, autism spectrum conditions, Down syndrome, multiple sclerosis, stroke recovery, or post-traumatic stress. Yet in a deeper sense, the beneficiaries also include therapists and loved ones who find joy in witnessing the therapy itself. And perhaps—we can only hope—the horses benefit as well, finding their own measure of joy and satisfaction in the gentle rhythms of companionship and care. The horses may or may not know that they are part of a healing larger than themselves—but they are. They are therapists, too.
God the Verb
What is clear is that, for the human beings, the healing is relational and rhythmic—it flows between horse and rider, therapist and participant, body and spirit, as each responds to the gentle rhythm of the other. In the rhythmic motion of horse and human together, we glimpse God the verb, not God the noun—a living process, not a static substance. If God is, in some sense, eternal, God is also, as Plato puts it, a moving image of eternity. Hippotherapy is one such moving image—an embodiment of divine creativity made visible in motion and shared healing.
The Rhythmic Nature of Existence
This reflects a truth central to process theology: that rhythmicity is a fundamental feature of existence itself, woven into the fabric of being, from the smallest quantum fluctuations to the beating of the human heart. To exist is, in some sense, to move in rhythm with others—to participate in a unison of becoming that transcend the smaller self. We are widened by moving in rhythm. And so it is with God, the Spirit of creative transformation. This Spirit, however, is not alongside the partners in the dance; the spirit is in the partners and the dance even as beyond them. And they are in the Spirit, too, when healing occurs. Hence the idea of pan-en-theism: everything in God.
The Spirit’s Gentle Power
This is not to say that the Spirit is all-powerful. Rather, it works in and through the agencies of the horse, the therapist, and the rider—a gentle power of persuasion and cooperation rather than control. Consciously and unconsciously, intentionally or unintentionally, the other agencies may choose to cooperate with it, or to go their own ways. And yet it is within them as well, in that they can move with it—sharing it with one another through the grace of rhythm and the beauty of shared movement.
Beyond Rhythm
Of course, there is much more going on in hippotherapy than rhythmic movement. There is also balance, trust, communication, empathy, courage, sensory integration, and mutual adaptation—a continual interplay of feelings and responses among horse, rider, and therapist. There is, to use Whitehead's language, a "concrescence" - a becoming unified and concrete - among many forms of perception and feeling, all at once. And on the part of all involved. The rider learns to let go and to trust; the horse learns to sense and respond; the therapist learns to guide without domination, to invite rather than compel. All three participate in a choreography of listening and response, of being felt and feeling back.
A Whole Body Movement
And needless to say there is also the whole body. Horseback riding is a full-body activity that engages the core, pelvis, hips, legs, spine, shoulders, arms, hands, neck, and feet in rhythmic coordination. The rider’s core provides balance and stability, while the pelvis and hips move fluidly with the horse’s gait. The legs and feet anchor and communicate subtle cues, and the spine absorbs motion with flexible strength. The shoulders and arms guide through gentle rein contact, and the hands translate intention through delicate adjustments. Even the neck and head contribute to balance and orientation. Together, these parts create a dynamic harmony of motion, allowing horse and rider to move as one living rhythm.
Beauty as Richness of Experience
There is also beauty—not the beauty of spectacle, but the beauty of what Whitehead in Adventures of Ideas calls "strength of beauty." The is the strength of relationship: the quiet dignity of shared effort, the grace of connection across species. And there is courage, physical and mental and emotional —for healing always involves risk, a willingness to step into movement, to be changed by encounter. All of this is a taste of something more than pain and suffering, more than loss and despair. A taste of something beautiful.
When seen through the lens of process theology, these dimensions—rhythm, balance, trust, empathy, courage, the whole body, and beauty—form part of one reality: the Spirit of creative transformation at work in the world. They remind us that healing is not a single act but an evolving ensemble and improvisational cooperation among beings, human and more-than-human alike.
There is a social aspiration contained within all of this. A hope for healing and confidence-building at an individual level, to be sure, but also a hope that we humans might learn to live together in some kind of rhythmic harmony what represents divine yearnings for a world in process: a yearning for cooperation, for love, for wonder.
Hippotherapy—the therapeutic use of horseback riding—offers a vivid embodiment of healing power as rhythmic movement, and of the conviction, held by process theologians, that something of divine love is present in rhythmic movement itself when enjoyed and shared in healing ways. Of course, we find shared movement in many contexts of life: in dance, in music-making, in the rituals of worship, in the give-and-take of conversation, in the playful interactions of children and animals, and in the subtle attunements of breathing together. Each of these moments reveals the grace of movement that is mutual, responsive, and alive.
Hippotherapy, then, is one of shared rhythmic movement — a setting where the rhythm of shared motion becomes a sacrament of relational healing, It participates in something deeper than itself: a cosmic rhythm incarnate in life on earth: a spirit of creative transformation, to use the language of process theology.
Who Benefits from Hippotherapy?
The human beneficiaries of such participation are well known and diverse: children and adults living with cerebral palsy, autism spectrum conditions, Down syndrome, multiple sclerosis, stroke recovery, or post-traumatic stress. Yet in a deeper sense, the beneficiaries also include therapists and loved ones who find joy in witnessing the therapy itself. And perhaps—we can only hope—the horses benefit as well, finding their own measure of joy and satisfaction in the gentle rhythms of companionship and care. The horses may or may not know that they are part of a healing larger than themselves—but they are. They are therapists, too.
God the Verb
What is clear is that, for the human beings, the healing is relational and rhythmic—it flows between horse and rider, therapist and participant, body and spirit, as each responds to the gentle rhythm of the other. In the rhythmic motion of horse and human together, we glimpse God the verb, not God the noun—a living process, not a static substance. If God is, in some sense, eternal, God is also, as Plato puts it, a moving image of eternity. Hippotherapy is one such moving image—an embodiment of divine creativity made visible in motion and shared healing.
The Rhythmic Nature of Existence
This reflects a truth central to process theology: that rhythmicity is a fundamental feature of existence itself, woven into the fabric of being, from the smallest quantum fluctuations to the beating of the human heart. To exist is, in some sense, to move in rhythm with others—to participate in a unison of becoming that transcend the smaller self. We are widened by moving in rhythm. And so it is with God, the Spirit of creative transformation. This Spirit, however, is not alongside the partners in the dance; the spirit is in the partners and the dance even as beyond them. And they are in the Spirit, too, when healing occurs. Hence the idea of pan-en-theism: everything in God.
The Spirit’s Gentle Power
This is not to say that the Spirit is all-powerful. Rather, it works in and through the agencies of the horse, the therapist, and the rider—a gentle power of persuasion and cooperation rather than control. Consciously and unconsciously, intentionally or unintentionally, the other agencies may choose to cooperate with it, or to go their own ways. And yet it is within them as well, in that they can move with it—sharing it with one another through the grace of rhythm and the beauty of shared movement.
Beyond Rhythm
Of course, there is much more going on in hippotherapy than rhythmic movement. There is also balance, trust, communication, empathy, courage, sensory integration, and mutual adaptation—a continual interplay of feelings and responses among horse, rider, and therapist. There is, to use Whitehead's language, a "concrescence" - a becoming unified and concrete - among many forms of perception and feeling, all at once. And on the part of all involved. The rider learns to let go and to trust; the horse learns to sense and respond; the therapist learns to guide without domination, to invite rather than compel. All three participate in a choreography of listening and response, of being felt and feeling back.
A Whole Body Movement
And needless to say there is also the whole body. Horseback riding is a full-body activity that engages the core, pelvis, hips, legs, spine, shoulders, arms, hands, neck, and feet in rhythmic coordination. The rider’s core provides balance and stability, while the pelvis and hips move fluidly with the horse’s gait. The legs and feet anchor and communicate subtle cues, and the spine absorbs motion with flexible strength. The shoulders and arms guide through gentle rein contact, and the hands translate intention through delicate adjustments. Even the neck and head contribute to balance and orientation. Together, these parts create a dynamic harmony of motion, allowing horse and rider to move as one living rhythm.
Beauty as Richness of Experience
There is also beauty—not the beauty of spectacle, but the beauty of what Whitehead in Adventures of Ideas calls "strength of beauty." The is the strength of relationship: the quiet dignity of shared effort, the grace of connection across species. And there is courage, physical and mental and emotional —for healing always involves risk, a willingness to step into movement, to be changed by encounter. All of this is a taste of something more than pain and suffering, more than loss and despair. A taste of something beautiful.
When seen through the lens of process theology, these dimensions—rhythm, balance, trust, empathy, courage, the whole body, and beauty—form part of one reality: the Spirit of creative transformation at work in the world. They remind us that healing is not a single act but an evolving ensemble and improvisational cooperation among beings, human and more-than-human alike.
There is a social aspiration contained within all of this. A hope for healing and confidence-building at an individual level, to be sure, but also a hope that we humans might learn to live together in some kind of rhythmic harmony what represents divine yearnings for a world in process: a yearning for cooperation, for love, for wonder.