05/19/2026
Lately I have been feeling tired.
Not just physically, although that's a truth too. More mentally and emotionally.
There's a weight that comes with my job and Im not talking about the physical weight that comes with holding onto the limb of an animal that weighs 1000+ pounds. I'm talking about the weight of a silent conversation that happens every time I do physically take hold of a limb.
Often, owners are standing nearby telling me their side of the story. The improvements, the amazing rides, the softness, the lightness...all while their horse tells me their side of the story, one that sometimes doesn't match.
I hate to be negative, so it's worth noting that it’s not all bad. Sometimes horses and humans are living the same truth. Sometimes the horse is saying they're actually okay while the owner is worried about all the things they might be missing. This is not the majority though, not from where Im standing anyway.
The point is, the limbs are a window to the inside.
They reflect the stability, safety, and comfort that the horse feels...or lacks. They reflect the quality of your handling, your groundwork and your under saddle work.
Just because you want something to be true, doesn't make it the horse's truth. It's interesting to watch people rationalize and justify subtle communication that says, "I need more support". I can empathize. Looking at your horse and realizing they need more support can be hard to face. It's easier to create a reality in which you don't need to do much more than you are now. The time. The money. The changes you may need to make to yourself, your training, your riding, your husbandry practices...that can be an overwhelming thought.
But, it doesn't have to be perfect. You don't have to be perfect. Your horse doesn't have to be perfect. Small changes can bring big gains.
This horse is far from perfect. I could give you a list a mile long of things that I don't love about his hooves, his body, his development. My frustration with my lack of consistency and time. My lack of financial resources to support him in all the ways I could if money wasn't a worry.
And yet, he feels pretty good here. Quality over quantity. I've acknowledged him and the areas where he asks for more support...and I've said, "I'll do my best, I'll give you my best". But I've had to be, and continue to be, willing to hear things from him that I don't necessarily want to hear. That's what helps keep me honest. That's what helps keep me curious. That's what helps keep me seeking.
There's no, "This is good enough", for me. I want to know how good can it get, can it be better than what it is now? I'm not talking about nitpicking our horses and ourselves to death. I'm talking about living in a state of perpetual curiosity. I'm talking about slowing down enough to observe, feel and adjust. Particularly through simple, seemingly mundane tasks. The things that are especially easy to rush and bulldoze through.
Bring the level of focus and awareness you might have for something challenging, to something simple. It might teach you more than you expect it would, get you further than you think it might and make the challenging things easier than you think.
We're not JUST picking up legs, we're not JUST picking out hooves, we're not JUST trimming...it's so much deeper than that, it has the opportunity to be anyway.
A two minute blip of a 20 min session where I focused on some rocking and leg handling, right as the storms were moving in yesterday...
- Terra