NOTE: The following post is from Moritz Strauss, a business coach, family man, and close friend—who’s also a member of the Lighthouse. Recently, Moritz shared some amazing leadership lessons that resonated with all of us fellow members, and I asked him for permission to share here.
Here’s Moritz…
In early April 2025, I attended a three-day leadership training with horses. I expected a bit of theory and a few days in the Swiss countryside. What I got instead was a transformative experience. Led by Swiss brothers Markus and Marcel Eschbach, the training helped me understand personality not through judgment, but through the honest, silent feedback of a horse—specifically one named Soabella.
Here are my biggest takeaways:
You know those standardized, algorithmic tests you sometimes have to take for your employer? One-size-fits-all questions, generic categories, and a neat little printout telling you what “type” you are.
I hated it.
None of the answers fit me exactly. The results felt reductive and impersonal, like being shoved into a box that didn’t quite fit.
The test linked each person to one of four color-coded types:
🟥 Red type – strong-willed, driven, protective (or domineering)
🟨 Yellow type – creative, joyful, spontaneous (or jumpy, flaky)
🟦 Blue type – caring, empathetic, helpful (or emotionally dependent)
🟩 Green type – rule-abiding, precise, reliable (or rigid)
The types weren’t bad in themselves. But being told what I am by an algorithm rubbed me the wrong way.
What I enjoyed about this training was Marcel Eschbach’s approach. A physiotherapist who had burned out at 30 and then dove deep into leadership and personality theory, Marcel offered a powerful model that built on those standardized tests—but made them much more accessible, much more relatable.
He kept the color-based types but gave them names and stories that actually made sense:
🟥 Red – the Knight: strong, driven, protective (or domineering)
🟨 Yellow – the Surfer: joyful, charismatic, spontaneous (or flaky)
🟦 Blue – the Nurse: caring, empathetic, helpful (or emotionally dependent)
🟩 Green – the Bookkeeper: precise, rule-abiding, reliable (or rigid)
His model looked like a pyramid:
The goal? Learn who you are, then climb the pyramid.
And the best part? Marcel and Markus didn’t tell you your type.
They let the horse show you.
Now we’re in a round pen, face-to-face with a horse that weighs over 500 kilograms (over a 1,000 pounds).
No reins. No whip. No saddle.
The horse doesn’t have to do what you say. And at first, it didn’t. I tried to make it, but it wouldn’t. It just stood there.
Then came the training.
Markus—experienced horseman and Marcel’s brother—taught us how horses communicate. Not with words, but with posture, energy, and presence.
You don’t move the horse with muscle. You move it with intention. You speak with your body.
After just half a day, everything changed. No pulling. No commands. I stood still, turned my body slightly, focused my energy, and the horse moved. Willingly.
The beautiful Soabella
One of the most powerful moments of the training came when a participant tried to lead a horse and it went wild, running in circles, clearly unsettled. The guy asked, “What’s wrong with that horse?”
Markus replied gently:
“Nothing’s wrong with the horse. You just don’t know what you’re communicating.”
That hit me hard.
The horse was reacting to him. Not to what he thought he was saying—but to what he was saying with his body, tone, energy.
Horses don’t pretend. They don’t flatter. They don’t analyze. They just reflect.
And every horse reacted differently depending on who stood in the pen.
Same horse. Different human. Different result.
Markus used a simple but powerful metaphor:
The center of the round pen is the office. If you’re standing in the middle, you’re the one in charge. The leader.
But if you don’t lead—if you’re unfocused, inconsistent, or hesitant—the horse will sense it immediately. Especially a Knight- or Surfer-type horse. They might test you. Try to move you out of the center.
Because in horse logic, the one who moves less, conserves energy, but still gets their way—that’s the one who leads.
It’s not personal. It’s how the herd works.
Another big realization: when you step into the pen and don’t lead, the horse becomes anxious. It doesn’t know its role. It looks for clarity.
We often think not leading is kind. That giving freedom is always good. But this showed me: Real leadership—when done with care and purpose—is a gift. It provides direction, safety, and calm.
It’s not about control. It’s about clarity.
Practicing leadership…through horsemanship
Each of us showed up with different personalities. You could roughly place us along Marcel and Markus’s four-part model:
🟥 Knight: bold, commanding
🟨 Surfer: spontaneous, high-energy
🟦 Nurse: gentle, nurturing
🟩 Bookkeeper: cautious, analytical
And here’s the fascinating part: horses have similar traits.
They live in structured social groups with a natural order. Leadership, sensitivity, reactivity—it’s all there. Only it’s silent, behavioral, and unfiltered. The key wasn’t what your dominant type was; it was whether you could read the horse’s type and adjust your behavior to fit.
It’s like learning a new dialect. You may prefer one way of communicating, but to lead effectively, you’ve got to speak their language.
Let’s say you’re more of a Surfer—lighthearted, fast-moving, quick to smile. That’s great.
But what if the horse is a Bookkeeper—conservative, energy-saving, slow to respond? You’ll need way more consistency and grounded presence than you’re used to. Let your focus wander, and they’ll stop moving.
Or maybe you’re a Nurse—gentle, emotionally attuned. That’s beautiful. But a bold Knight-type horse might ignore your signals unless you show clear, strong direction.
You don’t have to become aggressive—you just need to become purposeful.
Even a fellow Surfer-type horse can be tricky: highly reactive and distractible. You barely shift your energy and they’re already moving—but getting them to stay focused? That’s the challenge. They need you to hold the space.
🟥 Knight-type horse: Needs directness. Strong presence. Clear intention. If your energy is all over the place, they’ll take over—and you’ve lost their trust.
🟨 Surfer-type horse: Highly reactive. Even a subtle cue will get them moving—but throw too much energy at them, and they’ll spin out of control. They need clarity and containment.
🟩 Bookkeeper-type horse: Slow to move. They’re not being stubborn—they’re testing for consistency. If you drift even slightly, they’ll stop. They want to know: Do you really mean it?
🟦 Nurse-type horse: Needs constant reassurance. Gentle, sensitive, often eager to please—but unsure. They keep looking for confirmation: Am I doing it right? Is this okay? If your cues are inconsistent or too strong, they’ll shut down. They don’t need more pressure—they need clear, supportive signals and steady encouragement.
Also, technique matters:
You don’t move the horse by touching it—you move it with energy, intention, and body language. Your position tells the horse what you want.
Think of it like driving a car:
The front legs are the steering wheel. To turn, you point your body (especially your toes) toward the front of the horse.
The hind legs are the gas pedal. To create movement or increase speed, you aim your energy—and your toes—toward the hindquarters.
The tips of your shoes matter. Point to the front legs to steer. Point to the hind legs to go. Stand still and shift your energy downward to signal rest.
Every movement is a message. And the horse responds instantly, especially when your message is consistent.
When the training clicked, something beautiful happened.
After the exercise, I turned away from the horse, letting it rest. And it came to me—gently nudging my back with its nose.
That was the horse saying: I trust you. That was good.
No treats. No pats. Just a moment of mutual respect.
In the horse’s world, that is the reward: a good working relationship, clear roles, and a shared understanding.
So yes: Your strengths and weaknesses do affect how the horse responds.
But the breakthrough comes when you stop asking: “What’s wrong with this horse?” And start asking: “What am I showing? What does this horse need from me?”
That shift—from self to connection—is leadership.
You don’t build trust by forcing someone to listen.You build trust by understanding how they operate, and adjusting your style to meet them where they are.
Sometimes that means more energy. Sometimes less.
Sometimes firmer boundaries. Sometimes clearer reassurance.
But you’ll only figure that out if you’re paying attention. Not just to what the other is doing, but how they’re responding to you.
That’s why the trainers said less, and why the horses taught so much more.
Because in that round pen, there’s no faking it. You either lead well, or you don’t.
What I loved most was that nobody at this training told me who I am. The horse showed me.
There was space to reflect, to try again, to improve—not based on judgment, but honest feedback from a being who doesn’t lie and doesn’t play games.
Even better: We got to work with horses of different types: some more Knight-like, others more Bookkeeper, Surfer, or Nurse-like. You could feel their personalities. Some needed energy; some needed calm. Some needed clarity or containment. Others needed reassurance. And you could learn to connect with each of them.
It was hands-on, eye-opening, and deeply human.
Oh, and by the way: Markus rides his horses without a saddle or rein in the mouth.
Pure connection. Pure trust. No force.
If you ever get the chance to train with Marcel and Markus Eschbach—take it.
Whether you’re in leadership, looking to grow personally, or just want to experience something truly unique, this training will stay with you.
It’s not about horses. It’s about you.
And about how you show up—for yourself and for others.
When I spent three days for a leadership training with horses in the Swiss countryside, I was hoping to learn. Instead, I got a transformative experience.
In his NBA Finals post game comments, Celtics Coach Joe Mazzulla gives a case study in how to build an emotionally intelligent culture.
