I didn’t start liberty work because I knew what I was doing.
I started because Tornado was teaching me, whether I understood it or not.
In the beginning, I didn’t have a system or polished language for what I was doing. Like many people, I was influenced early on by Heartland, the TV show, and the feeling it sparked more than any formal method. Later, we were incredibly fortunate to receive guidance from Cory Furlong of RCR Horsemanship through video learning, which helped give shape to things I was already beginning to feel but didn’t yet know how to explain.
That guidance mattered.
But the real education never came from a screen.
It came from standing in the arena with a horse who responded more honestly to how I felt than to what I asked.
Tornado began showing me what liberty actually was. Not the movements. Not the tricks. But the feel.
What it feels like when a horse is truly with you.
What it feels like when they aren’t.
What it feels like when your timing is off, when you rush, when you hesitate, or when your emotions quietly spill into the conversation, whether you intend them to or not.
I made mistakes. Plenty of them.
Sometimes I used too much pressure.
Sometimes not enough.
Sometimes I let things slide that I shouldn’t have.
Sometimes I expected clarity before I had earned it.
I’m human. I was learning.
And the horses were teaching me then, the same way they still teach me now.
Every session showed me something new. How they understood best. How they learned. How I needed to adjust to meet them, instead of expecting them to meet me. Liberty became less about doing something “right” and more about staying open enough to hear what was actually happening in front of me.
Sometimes connection looked like movement.
Sometimes it looked like doing nothing at all, just standing and breathing.
Sometimes it was talking to them about my day.
Sometimes it was crying into their neck.
Every interaction, in some form, is a conversation. The connection is always there if you are willing to listen. Not with words. Not by whispering. Internally. Emotionally. Energetically.
There are moments when behavior can cross into disrespect. But more often than not, especially in liberty, a horse is not being defiant. They are being playful. Curious. Expressive.
Liberty is supposed to be fun.
A good time with your horse.
A shared rhythm.
Freedom without the weight of restraint.
When liberty is genuinely enjoyable for both of you, it becomes electric. Not because it replaces training, but because it sharpens your awareness.
You can still ride. You can still train. You can still school, refine, practice, and perform. But now everything is clearer. You begin to notice the smallest shifts, even when you do not fully understand what you are seeing yet.
And that is where the real work begins.
Liberty didn’t make my horses honest.
It made me honest.
– Southside Performance Horses
Photography By: Lucy Broadwater