When I first began exploring Equine-Facilitated Psychotherapy, I found myself navigating a dizzying array of terminology.
Equine-assisted. Equine-facilitated. Equine-guided. Equine-informed.
Learning. Counselling. Mental health. Leadership. Wellness. Behavioural health. Psychotherapy. Experiential learning. Personal development.
The deeper I looked, the more complicated it became.
As a psychologist, I assumed I simply needed to understand the framework. You see, in psychology, the names of our approaches usually tell us something about our theories of behavior, change and process. I expected the equine world to organize itself in a similar way. But … in the equine world, the names often combine practice area, participants, process, philosophy, theory and sometimes intervention—all in a single (ever shifting) phrase.
As someone trying to understand the field, I found it difficult to find my ground. The more I searched, the less I understood what role the horse was actually playing. Is the horse a modality? A therapeutic technique? A theoretical orientation? A practice area?
None of those quite fit. And then I began noticing something.
The debate seemed to revolve around verbs.
Assisted.
Facilitated.
Guided.
Informed.
The more I wandered, the more I realized we weren’t debating horses. We were debating what humans were doing with horses: Therapy, Education. Leadership, Professional Development, Coaching, Rehabilitation, etc. The human activity remained the noun. The human doing it was implicit and foundational. The presence of a horse was, by convention in the field, an adjective to the action (therapy) undertaken by the implicit actor (the therapist).
That observation stopped me.
Not because I suddenly knew which terminology was correct. But because I realized I wasn’t simply choosing between different words.
I was choosing between different understandings of who the horse is within the work.
I mean, we don’t say human-facilitated psychotherapy. That is a given. Everything else flows from the assumption of the human as the primary agent.
When someone says “equine-assisted,” “equine-facilitated,” or “equine-guided,” they’re not just choosing words. They’re revealing—whether intentionally or not—what they believe the horse’s place is within the work.
Is the horse…
a tool?
an intervention?
equipment?
an assistant?
a co-facilitator?
the facilitator?
a partner?
a participant?
another living being?
For me, that realization changed everything.
I realized that before I could choose my words, I first had to understand my relationship with the horse. Only then could I begin to choose words that felt faithful to that relationship.
Today, I describe myself as a Registered Psychologist whose practice includes Equine Facilitated Psychotherapy.
Every word in that description matters to me. Not because I believe everyone should use the same language, nor because I think it is “right,” but because these words reflect how I understand myself, the horse, and the relationship between horse, human, and practitioner.
I am a Registered Psychologist.
My practice includes psychotherapy co-facilitated by horses.
What do you notice when you listen to the words you use to describe your practice?
Suggested Further reading:
Wood W, Alm K, Benjamin J, Thomas L, Anderson D, Pohl L, Kane M. (2021). Optimal Terminology for Services in the United States That Incorporate Horses to Benefit People: A Consensus Document. J Altern Complement Med. 2021 Jan;27(1):88-95.


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