Body Memory and Horse’s Response - PTSD Research
- Timna Benn
- Mar 29
- 6 min read
The events of recent years, and the complex reality of life in Israel over many decades, have brought the concept of post traumatic stress into sharper focus. Many combat soldiers have found themselves joining the circle of PTSD, but they are far from the only ones affected. We are becoming increasingly aware that trauma is not limited to the battlefield. It also touches those serving in support and security roles, as well as people exposed to ongoing threat at home, work, or within their communities.
Repeated alarms, prolonged uncertainty, and years of cumulative stress blur the line between those formally diagnosed with PTSD and those simply living under constant tension. In such a reality, it is easy to understand why so many people find themselves coping with emotional exhaustion and difficulties in emotional regulation.
This plays out on personal, community, and national levels. And as the wound becomes broader, so does the understanding that new spaces for breathing, healing, and rehabilitation are needed. Not only traditional therapies, but also alternative spaces that allow the body and mind to find an additional language for recovery.
From within this movement, a wide door has opened into the world of working with horses. More and more people are drawn to the non judgmental space of the farm. Some arrive because their body responds differently in the presence of a horse. Others discover that a sense of calm that could not enter the therapy room finally finds a place. And some come to understand that the connection between a being that responds with complete honesty and a person trying to rediscover themselves allows for a form of healing that does not rely on words alone.
Against this background stands a compelling research article that outlines a structured professional framework for equine assisted therapy with individuals coping with PTSD. The study by Yuval Neria and colleagues, published in 2020 in Military Medicine, offers one of the first evidence-based treatment models for working with military veterans with PTSD through horses.
Professor Neria, one of the world’s leading researchers in trauma, is an Israeli psychiatrist with an international reputation. He is a professor of psychiatry at Columbia University and leads major research programs focused on identifying PTSD mechanisms and developing innovative treatments. Over many years, he has worked alongside clinical teams and neuroscientists to better understand what enables healing and what blocks it. Among his areas of interest is therapeutic work with horses, and he has collaborated closely with Dr. Anita Shkedi, one of the pioneering figures in the field in Israel, from whom I also learned the foundations of this work.
The article by Neria and his team attempts to bring order to a field that for many years relied largely on intuition, experience, and isolated successes, but very little on systematic research. It presents a carefully structured treatment program based on eight fixed sessions, ground based work only, and the use of standardized clinical tools to measure change over time.
The original publication in 2019, an earlier version of the same study, marked a significant turning point. For the first time, a full therapeutic protocol was created that was graded, measurable, and built through collaboration between psychiatrists, neuroscientists, PTSD specialists, and leading professionals in equine assisted work. Not case descriptions or success stories, but real research attempting to examine what actually happens in the encounter between a person with PTSD and a horse, and which conditions allow breathing to begin again..
What Did the Study Look Like from the Inside
The researchers recruited eight veterans with a clear diagnosis of PTSD. Each participant underwent a series of professional assessments, including full clinical interviews and self report questionnaires. The participants worked consistently with two horses, a fixed therapeutic team, and a regular session schedule. In other words, a truly stable environment was created.
Over eight weeks, the group progressed gradually from basic practices of shared presence with the horse, through leading and reading body language, establishing personal space, and toward more complex exercises involving teamwork, movement, and coordination. All of the work was done on the ground. Everything was built layer by layer, while respecting the pace of both the participants and the horses.
This combination of consistency, repetition, and measured progression created a process that allowed an injured nervous system to encounter a non threatening environment and begin to relearn what safety feels like. Or more simply, what it means to exist.
What Was Measured
To assess whether meaningful change occurred, each participant was evaluated at four different time points using both clinical interviews and self report questionnaires. The clinical interviews assessed the severity of PTSD symptoms, depression, and daily functioning using tools considered standard in trauma research.
Alongside this, participants completed questionnaires examining their internal experience, including levels of hyperarousal, avoidance, mood, and overall quality of life.
This multi-layered assessment made it possible to capture a broad and reliable picture, one that reflected both visible change and subtler processes unfolding beneath the surface.
Study Results
At the end of the eight sessions, a significant reduction in post traumatic symptoms was observed. Levels of depression decreased and quality of life improved. Beyond that, and this is relatively rare in studies of this kind, no participant dropped out of the program. Moreover, all participants reported a positive experience and expressed a desire for the program to be longer.
The researchers did not shy away from the more complex findings. Three months later, some of the improvements had begun to fade. They did not disappear entirely, but they were not fully maintained. This moment is perhaps the most important one in the article. It reminds us that while the intervention can generate meaningful short term change, sustaining it requires continuity, routine, and ongoing commitment.
It is difficult to ignore the Israeli reality. In a country that moves constantly between alarms and strained routine, between periods of overload and instability, almost every therapeutic process is tested by continuity. From this perspective, the study’s implication becomes even clearer. Work with horses can open a door to change, but lasting change requires continued walking through it.
This brings to mind Yael Moran, who co leads dyadic groups with me. She once shared that when she studied with Uri Peleg, he repeatedly said, “slowly, gently, and many times.” A simple sentence that carries an entire philosophy of regulation, relearning, and trust building, both between a person and themselves and between a person and a horse.
What else can be explored from here?
I encourage the moderators and instructors I train to ask questions. Not from doubt, but from professional curiosity that helps a field grow. When we discussed the article together, several natural questions emerged that could form the basis for future research.
The current study focuses exclusively on ground work. This is a meaningful choice, yet it is intriguing to consider what might happen in a process that also includes riding. Shared movement, weight bearing, balance shifts, all of these may influence the nervous system in different ways.
The duration of the program also invites reflection. Eight sessions are an excellent starting point, but a longer sequence might allow the changes to stabilize more fully.
And then there is scale. Eight participants form an initial foundation, but broader understanding will require additional studies, more diverse groups, and varied models of intervention.
These are not questions of skepticism, but of genuine professional curiosity. They open the door to deeper thinking, greater precision, and richer understanding of the complex and fascinating encounter between human and horse. This is exactly how a developing field continues to move forward.
The article by Professor Neria highlights something many of us intuitively sense wherever a human meets a horse. It reminds us that this encounter is not a miracle cure and not a promise of instant healing. It is a step. A step that offers a possibility. A step that creates a small crack in a hyper vigilant nervous system and allows light to enter.
Working with horses invites us to slow down, to breathe, and to relearn what safety feels like. It allows those who have been hurt to find moments where words are no longer required in order to be understood.
And like any deep process, it requires continuity. It requires repetition. It requires a space that can hold a person long enough for real change to take root. Perhaps this is why work with horses feels so accurate for this era. It does not promise that pain will disappear. It promises that we will not be alone inside it.
When we allow the horse to be a horse, the human can finally be human.
From there, it becomes possible to keep moving forward, slowly, gently, and many times, toward a life that feels just a little more bearable.
Sources:
Arnon, S., Fisher, P. W., Pickover, A., Lowell, A., Turner, J. B., Hilburn, A., ... & Neria, Y. (2020). Equine-assisted therapy for veterans with PTSD: Manual development and preliminary findings. Military medicine, 185(5-6), e557-e564.
