To connect with the horse is to connect with self.
I didn’t want to stand. No. Moments like this required a seat, and so I lowered myself to the ground. I wanted to feel the grass. I wanted to connect my entire body to the earth. Beside me, a horse lowered its head. Between a dramatic mane, I could see one large brown eye watching, not with judgment, but acceptance. Ahead, the sun was setting, rendering the sky pink, yellow, and purple. A grey cloud hung low, making the scene even more beautiful. In the distance, the Westman Islands loomed behind the fog like ghosts rising in the night. I could hear the waves crashing upon the distant shore, but beside me, there was silence. A gentle nudge from the mare returned my attention to her. I took a deep breath. Maybe this was the answer. Maybe this is what life was about. The moment, and nothing more.
If you have spent any time on my blog, you know how much I love Iceland. I have been fortunate to spend a lot of time there over my lifetime. From solo camper van adventures to an art residency in the far North, witnessing a volcano erupt, and more, I have had some unforgettable experiences in the land of fire and ice that have forever changed me as a person.
I would argue my boots have seen more dirt in Iceland than some locals, and my photography ventures have taken me everywhere from late-night aurora chasing to sunrises on the sea cliffs. However, this last trip would be different. I wasn’t chasing adventure this time; I was chasing stillness.
A few years ago, I wandered onto Mr. Iceland Horseback Riding Retreat in search of an authentic Icelandic horse riding experience. From the moment I met the owner, Hordur, and set eyes on the farm, I knew I had found something special. I didn’t want to just ride the horse, I wanted to connect with the horse, and so I did.
I returned a few times, and last year, a brown mare by the name Brúða stole my heart. Brúða, Icelandic for “bride,” was one of the horses in the area behind my cottage. Between the photography adventures and sightseeing, I would stop to spend time with her. I left with an attachment and fond memories of a horse that brought me some peace with her playfulness and calming presence.
When I booked this winter’s trip to the farm, it was unexpected. I was drowning. Life had become overwhelming in the ways life can be. Daily meditations, journal practices, and forest walks were not cutting it. Every day I struggled to get out of bed, immediately paralyzed with anxiety from the moment I opened my eyes. Then the depression settled, and I knew I had to take action.
I needed this trip and the space to reconnect with myself. I needed to be with the horses. And so I booked a week-long stay at Mr. Iceland following a dream I had returned, and I was walking among the herd. Within the field, Brúða was waiting for me, and I knew I had to make this work.
There were no planned excursions, epic adventures, or even photography projects. I did, however, want to document my experience in hopes of preserving it not only for myself but also for others who may need it.
Chasing Stillness
There was no rush when my flight landed. The airport was quiet, but the thin February morning light peeked outside. Following my car rental pickup from Lotus, I headed into Reykjavik to meet a friend for breakfast. We strolled for a bit. The sun was shining, which was odd for Reykjavik, and the harbour water gleamed silver beneath it.
Despite enjoying my time in the city, I was eager to head west, where the roads would open up to reveal Iceland’s countryside. As I drove, I rolled the windows down to take in the air. Iceland has a distinct smell, particularly near the geothermal valleys. Some visitors find it offensive, but I love it because it reminds me of Iceland.
After picking up my favorite Icelandic goods ( Freyja chocolate and Hraun bars to start), I arrived at the farm late in the afternoon. Before making the turn onto the dirt road leading to its entrance, I pulled over at a designated space.
As I looked at the snowy Eyjafjallajökull glacier, I cried tears of joy. There is a strange yearning or longing I feel when I am in Iceland. My old roommate described this well, as he experienced the same strange feelings here. For me, it is some odd remembrance of a home I can’t quite recall. I wish I could one day receive an explanation of what this is. For now, I just relish it.
Four quaint cottages are part of the farm. I rented Kria, a cottage I had stayed in before. That first turn of the key with the attached fuzzy horse key chain was bliss. I had dreamt of this moment for a year: a return to my sanctuary.
The cottage was quiet, clean, and I especially loved the warm tones and small details, such as textured blankets that feel so inviting. My first walk to the enclosure behind the cottage was greeted by two horses. The sun beamed between them, rendering their coats gold.
That evening as the aurora danced above, my heart swelled with gratitude. Sometimes that is all we need, a reminded what life is about. Whatever these moments are for you, seek them often. They can shift everything you are questioning. They often do for me.
My stay
My days were not complicated, nor did I want them to be. Mornings consisted of alarm-free, slow waking, followed by coffee while I watched the light change over the glacier and journaled.
Once the calling came to go outside, which it usually did before sunrise, I would bundle up and take the quiet walk down to the herd. The light in Iceland is always so magical. Every sunrise is different. Every sunset is spectacular and when you least expect it, the sky does something extraordinary.
I did meet Brúða again. She was one of the second horses to approach me. Many others did during my stay, each with a different personality and way about them. A few nudged and nipped (horses use their sensitive mouths to explore textures and communicate. This is different than aggressive biting, which I did not experience), while others simply followed or stood beside me.
The gravel road that led to the herd intrigued me. I studied the ground, the hoofprints, and my prints beside them. I wondered about the land I walked, who walked before me, and who would walk after me. On my walks, I admired the grove of trees I helped plant two years ago. It pleased me to see them doing well.
With each encounter, I learned about the horse. I learned to be present, to feel their energy, and then to feel my own. I took a deep breath and saw how it affected both the horse and me. I understood that silence speaks volumes and that stillness says more than movement. In all of this, I gained insights about myself that answered many of the questions I had arrived with.
On my last evening there, I took the final sunset stroll to see the herd. A larger brown mare had approached me many times and did again. I was hesitant at first to engage with her. She was taller than the others, and this intimidated me.
She followed me on my search to find a white horse I had taken to. When I stopped to greet the white horse, she gently nudged me before nibbling on the grass. The sun was setting, and the sky was beautiful.
Feeling comfortable, I took a seat on a grassy mound. Many emotions ran through me. Awe, gratitude, regret, and joy until they ruptured into tears. As I sat there doing my best to wipe my eyes clear, I felt a nudge. I looked up to see the brown mare. The white hairs on her aged face were now visible, and her gentle eyes spoke to me between a gorgeous mane.
It was a strange moment as she allowed me to lean into her. She didn’t move. There was quiet understanding, the pause I needed.
I sat there for a while amongst the grazing herd, watching until the sun dipped low and all that remained were these mystical beams of light.
I had arrived seeking stillness and connection with the horses. What I received was so far greater than that. In many ways, they had saved me just by allowing me to be. That was the moment I needed; a moment where I was not just a person navigating life’s difficulties, but part of a story that connects all living things.
A Horse’s Healing Heart
The time I had with the Icelandic horses will be cherished for the rest of my life. It was everything I needed it to be: simple, magical, peaceful, and mindful.
The Icelandic horse is an icon in Iceland. Genetically outfitted to traverse the rugged terrain and withstand the unforgiving weather, the horse has played a huge role in Iceland’s rich history. Their unique fifth gait, known as a “tölt,” allows them to cover long distances smoothly and comfortably. From the dramatic sagas to folklore and heroic feats, the horse holds the whispers of Iceland’s past in its soul.
A reliable companion, the Icelandic horse is not only a means of transport or a tourist excursion, but also an actual healer.
There is a scientific explanation behind why a horse’s presence relaxes us, and it begins with their hearts.
A human heart is approximately the size of a closed fist, and in a healthy individual, it beats around 60-80 bpm at rest. During exertion, such as physical activity or anxiety, heart rate and respiratory rate increase. The electromagnetic field of a human heart is, on average, about 3 feet in diameter and varies with physiological demands.
The heart’s electromagnetic field (EMF) is a byproduct of physiological function, produced by the synchronized electrical activity of heart muscle cells during each heartbeat. This field we generate can literally shift the energy around us. This is why some individuals can sense if someone else is anxious the moment they enter a room. It is not our imagination, but an “energy read” produced by our own EMFs.
While our hearts produce a voltage of 50mV/m, a horse’s heart produces an EMF up to FIVE times larger than ours. But here is where it gets interesting.
The horse’s heart is, on average, the size of a melon. It beats anywhere from 20-44 bpm at rest and produces an electromagnetic field up to 60 feet in diameter. That is an incredible amount of space, which tells us you don’t have to be very close to feel the horse’s calming energy.
So next time you are wondering why you are feeling relaxed in a horse’s presence, you know it is not only because they are beautiful animals, but also because you are reading the energy. It’s a magical moment; cherish it.
What are you waiting for
So imagine this. You arrive at an Icelandic horse farm, anxious, stressed, sad, or heartbroken. These emotions are impacting your physiological state. Your heart rate is elevated. Your breathing is shallow and rapid. Even your muscles tense in response.
You take a morning stroll to see the horse. The light changes. Grasses glow golden. There is a light breeze, but otherwise all is still and quiet. A horse approaches you. It stops a few feet away, lifting its head perhaps to read you. As she gets closer, you take a deep breath. The horse stops beside you. There are no words exchanged, but you feel instantly relaxed just being in her presence. Her heart beats slowly, and her energy field is encouraging calm.
You find the space to breathe here and be present. After some time these effects wear on you. You leave no longer nervous or tense, but with fond memories of these incredible horses who encouraged you to pause.
With each encounter, you grow more mindful. Perhaps you feel comfortable enough to embark on a ride, a journey built on trust and unspoken communication. Or perhaps you don’t and choose to stand beside the horses, or sit on the ground and watch the beautiful Icelandic sunset.
A connection with an Icelandic horse returns you to magic. The physical cues are only a doorway. It is the unseen energy between you that earns her trust. The horse’s presence encourages a pause, a slow down, a moment for you to just breathe.
Then the horse will show you the way back to yourself. They certainly did for me. In my quest to find an old friend, Brúða, I made many new ones and, in the process, discovered what really matters in life. I am looking forward to finding the road back one day.
Goða ferð/ good journeys
Arielle
You can book this experience where you can stay on a traditional Icelandic farm and connect with the horses here at Mr Iceland Horseback Riding Retreat.
