If you could write a letter to your horse to read in one year, what would you say?
FutureMe.org is a clever little website that automates a digital time capsule of sorts; it allows you to write a letter to yourself (or anyone else) at any point in the future, and it will automatically email you the letter on the date of your choice. For better or worse, I’m only mildly interested in where I’ll be a year from now, but I’m pretty obsessed with wherever it is my horse thinks she is headed.
Maybe your letter is full of definable goals, events, and accolades, maybe it’s just to work on a particular issue. Maybe it’s a make-it-or-break-it time in your relationship with your horse, or maybe you’re trying to see down the road past an injury or a long cold winter. Whatever it may be, throw your horse a flake of future hay, and take a long warm ride into the future. I’ll go first.
Dear Future Horse,
I know. 2015 was kind of weird. We survived that baby coming into the world, we got back in the saddle, we made a brave attempt to get you to your first recognized Horse Trial, and moved barns twice. Will 2016 be more of the same?
If 2015 was the year of bangs and shimmies, then 2016 will be the year of repairs and growth. We’re going to figure out what went wrong in your past and help you make peace with the life you lead now. Of all the many great people we’ve brought in to help get you where you’re going, they’ve been unanimous that you’re smart, and unanimous that you’re angry at the world. By the start of 2017, my fervent hope and belief is the same as it was when I first met you – I just want you to enjoy the ride.
I want you to learn to use your body and take pleasure in it. I want you to have confidence in me and our coaches that you’re safe in our care when we’re at home or away. I want you to lean in on your people instead of pulling back (metaphorically speaking, but also, stop breaking the d@&* crossties).
I have great faith that in the course of the next year, you’ll learn to love dressage and the freedom it gives you to move well and communicate fairly. I have hope that it will release your tension and permeate into all the aspects of your life. I have hope we’ll get back to jumping eventually, and you’ll keep your streak alive of never having a stop or runout. You have such ferocious grit, my girl. And when we get it channeled in the right place, I think we’ll have quite a wonderful time together.
But in the next year, I also promise you this: If you’re truly not happy, and there’s no peace to be had between us, I promise not to let sentiment and selfishness cloud my judgement about your future. There’s every chance you’d be happier doing something else with someone else, and if that someone isn’t me and that something isn’t eventing, we’re going to find you the right situation. You have my word.
You’re a brave little toaster, and I love you. See you on the flipside in 2017. Try to not murder me before then, or you’ll never get to read this awesome letter.
That Lady That Spoils and Bothers You