For those of us who didn't grow up in the equestrian world -- heck, even for many that DID -- it can feel daunting to watch your fellow riders compete and move up in the levels seemingly effortlessly or get to participate in events or activities that feel inaccessible to you because your horse is not ready or you don't have a trailer or it's simply not in the budget this month (or year) or you're dealing with health issues or maybe you don't even have a horse.
It's also hard not to question whether you really belong here and whether you've even earned the right to call yourself an equestrian. After all, are you really an equestrian if you're "just" doing lessons once a week? Are you really an equestrian if you are "only" leasing a horse? Are you really an equestrian if you don't ride your horse? Are you really an equestrian if you don't show? Are you really an equestrian if you don't show internationally? Where is the boundary?
In my very humble opinion, ALL of the above are equestrians and deserve to be here. You matter, and whatever you're doing with the horse(s) you get to play/ride/groom/feed snacks to matters, at whatever level and whatever number of times per week you do it. We are all doing the best we can, when we can; we all have different goals for ourselves; and we all have different levels of privilege.
No matter where you are in your equestrian journey, you are someone's role model. To the person "just" taking weekly lessons, you are miles ahead of the person scrolling through their phone and fangirling over your horse photos just WISHING they could even pet some horses. To the person who feels bad they don't get to see their retired field ornament as much as they want (because LIFE), your horse is surrounded by friends, eats fresh grass and hay, breathes clean air, and gets showered with treats every time you visit; that's a pretty damn good life, and the lady taking weekly lessons would give anything just to have a horse to call her own. And to the adult amateur who strives to be able run with the big girls in provincial competitions, wearing the right clothes (used from Craigslist), just barely scraping enough for semi-consistent lessons, and suffering from imposter syndrome because, after all, your horse cost a mere fraction of the fancy one two stalls over, there's a kid out there that watches you at local shows, knows you and your horse by name, listens when you speak, watches how you handle your horse, cheers for you when you win the ribbons and trophies, and kindly blames an off-day if you don't. A kind word from you would make their freaking year.
I'm not saying it's easy to just set aside the feeling of "not enough." Always feeling like you should do more comes with the territory when you're working with these large, majestic, albeit high-maintenance, creatures. But the point is WE GET TO. Remember that, savour that, be grateful for what you have, and remember to pass on the kindnesses you were shown earlier in your journey because someone out there idolizes you and you have a duty to use that power for good.
And to the folks that are just wishing they could get in and don't know where to start, stay tuned because I'll be talking about that in a future blog post.
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