Near Lander, Wyoming, lives a spiritual healer and horse tamer whose withered limbs look as dry and weathered as the twisted trunks of the whitebark pines in the mountains above these dusty plains. Nearly three decades ago, Stanford Addison’s 20-year-old body rested on a slab in the morgue after the truck he was in went out of control trying to avoid hitting a herd of horses, and he was given up for dead.
Dying would have been easy, but Addison was destined for a longer road in life, one that would eventually lead to renown in the world outside the Wind River Arapaho Reservation where he lives. But times were bleak after the accident, when dealing with his crushed spine, including learning to accept that he wouldn’t walk again, sent him spiraling into a deep depression.
Eventually, Addison found he wanted to be around horses again in spite of his spinal cord injury. But how could a quadriplegic in a wheelchair tame wild horses? A bronco buster in his youth, Addison once watched a favorite horse die from injuries it sustained after brutal training methods broke its pelvis. That repugnant memory, coupled with years of observation and his unique circumstances, brought the mature man a deep intuitive sense that has led to a unique approach.
Today, Addison calls himself a “horse counselor” for the wild mustangs and horses with behavior problems that come to his modest ranch for gentling. His goal is to improve communication between the two-legged and four-legged animals that enter the round pen, a circular corral where additional log poles limit sight and keep the horse’s – and trainer’s - attention focused inside the enclosure. Neither leaves the same as when they entered.
Sitting in his power wheelchair a few feet outside the pen, Addison helps the human understand the cues the horse is sending out. They can be subtle, or obvious. The animal isn’t ready to learn if he’s pawing the ground, but if he drops his head and licks his lips, his mind is receptive. When the person and the animal know what to expect from each other, all goes well.
“Everybody has to face their fears,” Addison says. Getting in the training pen with a wild horse “puts you right in there where you have to use all the gifts that the Creator blessed you with.” You get a better understanding of yourself, and that can lead to improved communications with humans, as well.
Troubled youth on the reservation can take advantage of the Heyteyneytah Project, a program run by Addison that pairs the kids with horses. “Heyteyneytah” means respect in Arapaho, which is what the teens and horses have for each other after building understanding and a sense of trust.
But Addison’s unique intuition doesn’t stop at equines. He’s an elder and spiritual leader in the tribe.
Two long years of hospitalization followed Addison’s spinal cord injury. His life had no direction. Back on the reservation, his goal initially was to tick off the biggest, nastiest guys he could roll up to.
“I wanted someone to murder me,” he says.
But something strange kept happening. Often, the ruffians would break down in tears and tell him their problems instead. Addison came to understand that he had special gifts with people as well as horses.
In her book about Addison, Broken, A Love Story, author Lisa Jones tells how she immediately knew, the minute she looked into his eyes, that this was no ordinary man. And instead of parting ways after her initial interview for an article in Smithsonian, the Boulder, Colo. writer continued her visits for five years.
Jones credits Addison with, among many things, getting her past a mistrust of men instilled by her “very weird” father. Perhaps he’s helped by a strong sense of connection with the divine, which has led to his position as spiritual leader in the community.
Behind Addison’s humble house, a rounded, squat structure covered in skins mimics the turtle that his people believe brought them their land. The sweat lodge ritual is a Native American spiritual tradition that endures on these windswept plains.
Addison regularly prays in the lodge. During the twice-weekly group sweat that attracts participants from all over the world, stones heated by fire are taken into the lodge. There, each member draws a dipperful of water, representing their prayers, from a common bucket. No belief is discriminated against, Christian or other. “We accept them all,” Addison says.
“With my disability, I’m able to see things clearer,” he says. “I see that life is short, so why waste it? Why not do something that’s good and meaningful?”
Photo of Addison in front of sweat lodge courtesy Sarah Kariko, Planet Jackson Hole.
Photo of Addison in round pen courtesy Wind River Development Fund.
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