What the Mare Taught Me About Boundaries

A lesson in energy, presence, and sacred space

There are horses you lead gently. And there are horses like Bynke.

My Friesian mare doesn’t yield to niceties. She doesn’t soften because you ask sweetly. She doesn’t care how many rosettes you’ve won or how confident you felt ten minutes ago.

With Bynke, you either show up clearly or you get shown up.

The first time I met her, I felt it before I saw it: an energy that filled the field before her hooves did. Not aggressive. Not aloof. Just… unapologetic.

She is bold. She is black-as-night, built like a statue, and moves like thunder. But it’s not her size that commands presence—it’s her boundaries.

She knows where she begins and where she ends. And she expects you to know, too.

Relational Energy: What Horses Sense Before We Speak

Here’s the thing about horses: they don’t listen to your words. They listen to your energy.

They read the contradictions in your body. They notice if your mouth says “I’m fine” but your shoulders say “I’m not okay.”They feel it when your yes is really a maybe, or your no is laced with guilt.

And they will react to that—not the version of yourself you try to present.

Bynke doesn’t tolerate blurred lines. If you walk into her space, uncertain, disconnected, or trying to be liked, she will test you. Not out of malice, but because you haven’t made your boundaries known.

She’s not being difficult. She’s being honest.

Boundaries Aren’t Walls. They’re Invitations to Realness.

We often treat boundaries like barriers. Something we put up when things go wrong.A last resort. A fence.

But with Bynke, boundaries are something else entirely: Clarity. Respect. Energetic truth.

They don’t push people away. They show others how to meet you.

When I meet her with groundedness, clear in my body, rooted in my intention, she responds with softness. When I come in frazzled, shapeshifting, unsure—she pushes, she crowds, she calls me out.

Not to punish me. To ask: Where are you, really?

What I’ve Learned About My Own Boundaries

Like many women I work with, I spent years believing that kindness meant making myself available. That boundaries would make me cold, unlikable, and too much. So I made myself smaller, softer, easier to be around.

And like many women, I paid the price:

• Burnout from overgiving.

• Resentment that I swallowed until it spilled.

• Relationships where I disappeared into keeping the peace.

Bynke doesn’t do peacekeeping. She does truth.

And in her presence, I’ve had to relearn what strength looks like.

It’s not hardness. It’s not silence. It’s not “just getting on with it.”

It’s knowing where I end and the world begins. And standing there with love.

Sacred Space Isn’t Selfish

Boundaries aren’t a rejection of connection. They’re what make real connection possible.

When I work with clients who struggle to say no, who feel guilty for taking up space, I often think of Bynke.

She doesn’t ask for space. She holds it.

She teaches us that boundaries are not just necessary for safety. They’re sacred. They’re what allow us to stay whole.

Final Thoughts From the Forest Edge

Not everyone will like it when you stop shrinking. Some will call it selfish when you choose rest. Some will misread your silence. Some will leave when you stop making yourself easy.

But those who stay? They’ll meet you at the edge of your sacred space. Not to cross it but to honour it.

And maybe that’s what Bynke has been teaching me all along:

That when we know ourselves, we don’t have to shout. We just have to stand and the world shifts around us.

Sarah x

From the Forest Edge