More energy, but relax

This year, I learned many things as an artist. But one lesson rose above the rest, unexpectedly, while riding horses in Thailand.

I was trotting and cantering through the lush landscapes of Kanchanaburi under the guidance of an exceptional horse trainer. Over the course of two days, he let me ride three very different horses. One of them, a light-coloured beautiful stallion, challenged me deeply. No matter what I tried, we couldn't seem to move forward together.

After observing us for a while, the trainer instructed something deceptively simple:

"More energy, but relax."

That line stayed with me.

My natural state is low energy: calm, grounded, quiet. It serves me well in life. I'm often a stabilising presence for those who are anxious or high in energy. But this horse was also low in energy. He didn't need calming. He needed propulsion without tension.

The instruction was completely out of my comfort zone. I associate high energy with anger, urgency, or losing myself. So the question became: How do I access more energy without sacrificing relaxation?

That question followed me home.

Soon after returning, a friend asked if I could help with a horse who was pushy and unfocused in the arena, testing boundaries and resisting direction. He needed someone who could be both grounding and activating: calm, yet clear and assertive. It was a process with mistakes, moments of doubt and utter misalignment. But there was growth too.

What shifted for me there was subtle but fundamental: I could no longer be the one doing the regulating for him. He needed to learn to find his own balance.

My role was not to carry him, but to stay present, consistent, and clear. And a playlist built around Fleetwood Mac's "The Chain", with its driving rhythm and building intensity, triggered something in both of us that moved us forward. The music gave me access to that energized-but-grounded state I'd been searching for.

That realization about not carrying him, about holding space instead of controlling it, quietly seeped into my art.

Working with this horse forced me into deeper self-attunement. I had to keep checking in: Am I present? Am I honest? Am I acting from clarity or from pleasing? Those same questions began guiding my creative decisions. I stopped adjusting my work to fit expectations and started asking whether I truly liked or loved what I was making.

That shift was liberating.

It became okay if others didn't like the result. The work no longer needed to perform. It needed to be true.

Exploring this balance between low and high energy unlocked something else: experimentation. I realised I already knew this state. I experience it when I sing, dance, or work out with music. I move with the flow, absorb the energy, and enter a different register of presence. Relaxed, yet fully alive.

In 2025, I trained myself to bring that same state into my art and photography.

The result wasn't louder work, but more free.

More joy in the process.

Less ego in the outcome.

I didn't become a different artist.

I learned to play in a different register.

Training with horses always teaches you the lessons you need to learn.

Training with horses always teaches you the lessons you need to learn.

Image made for the Paard Verzameld Collective Challenge: The horse that carried you.

Me in Kanchanaburi in March 2025

It was a real treat discovering this part of Thailand on horseback and learning my new lesson.

Julie Landrieu

Photographer and yoga teacher. Living in Mechelen, Belgium.

Blending images with life.

https://www.julielandrieu.com
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