Jennylin Russell is a horsewoman, trainer, and coach based in Novato, California. Her work spans horses, mules, and the full range of people who find their way to them from beginners to seasoned riders and horse owners, trauma survivors, veterans and people who have never been near a horse in their life. She believes good horsemanship finds what matters and builds from there.
Some people find horses. I was found by one — a bay gelding on the other side of a backyard fence, patient enough to wait for the apple slices I'd push through a hole I'd carved myself. I grew up in Novato, California, where horses still lived in neighborhoods and boarding facilities were a bike ride away. I didn't know then that I came from a horse family. My great-grandfather Chet traded horses during the Depression to feed his family. His daughter — my grandmother Joan — was a trick rider in her youth. The love of horses skipped a generation in the telling, but not in the blood.
I'm a single mother to an awesome eleven year old, a horsewoman for as long as I can remember, and someone who has spent fifteen years working professionally with horses, mules, and the people who love them. Being a mother makes me a better horsewoman. Being a horsewoman makes me a better mother. I've stopped trying to separate the two.
That work has taken me across a wide range of situations — starting young horses and mules, rehabilitating animals with physical and psychological challenges, riding and training across disciplines from western to english to the hackamore, and facilitating equine therapy groups for trauma survivors, veterans with PTSD, adolescents in addiction recovery, and first responders. I hold a bachelor's degree in psychology, am certified in indirect osteopathic techniques, and hold an ARCH certification through Arenas for Change in equine-assisted and equine-informed services. I tend to weave in other bodywork and facilitation approaches I've gathered along the way.
What connects all of it is the same basic orientation: I'm interested in what's actually happening, not just what appears to be. I'm drawn to pattern recognition, to the things most people walk past. And I've found that the questions horses ask of us, about clarity, congruence, and presence, are the same questions that matter everywhere else in our lives.
For coaching clients who have never been near a horse and never intend to be, that's exactly the point. What I've learned from years working at the intersection of horses and people is that the clearest path to understanding how we show up in relationships, in leadership, in our own lives, often starts with a 1200-pound animal who has no interest in the story we're telling about ourselves.
Perfection was never the goal. Joy is.