It’s a battle. There’s this feeling in your core that pulls you like a heavy magnet towards them. The sharp points of their ears; the warm breath of their exhale; the lace-like dew on their eyelashes. There is no silence quite like them. And yet, you are held, pulled, restricted by life. Maybe it’s a full-time job, maybe it’s familial responsibilities, and though you are thankful to have these other elements in your life, that magnet pulls you onward and away.
Cold mornings, wet mornings, humid mornings, bad mornings, you are there and you have risen before the hustle of the world has begun to churn. Life has not yet stretched her arms and pulled her feet from the bed. But you — you are putting your feet into stirrups. You have already had your coffee or tea and your horse warms your legs and heart.
It’s a battle. Because from there, after your feet hit the ground as you dismount, you must wipe down your tack, get in your car, drive to your job and try to ignore it. As you wait at stop signs, turn on your blinker, pull into a parking spot, you feel the pull. It’s a battle. As you log in to your computer, answer your phone calls, do your work for pay, you feel the pull.
We cannot ignore it forever. These animals with spritely minds, velvet muzzles, and colored fur. The ones that when you were little, you would ride bareback across dormant hay fields and pretend it was Burghley, Badminton, or Kentucky. You could hear the announcer saying your name, you could hear the crowd roar and applaud. You could feel happiness and fulfillment growing.
How did these dreams fade? Why should they change merely because new wrinkles dapple your forehead. The same magnet still exists in you; you have only become better at ignoring the pull. You have become a master at brushing off the feeling and slipping your unpainted toes into nude pumps. You have practiced suffocating the magnet inside you with dress slacks and pencil skirts.
Your magnet is sincere. She will not lie to you because she is you. She will hold her breath while you push her back and wait patiently until you decide that she is right. It’s a battle. But the thing that pulls you to them, those masterpieces of animals, their strong legs and muscular necks, those horses, will always be right. Listen. Be still. Listen.
Sarah Rains is a 25-year old eventer from Aiken, SC living in Rock Hill, SC.