When I first got my horse, I thought I was going to be the teacher.
I had plans, goals, and a vision for what our rides would look like. But somewhere along the way, I realized he was quietly rewriting the lesson plan.
The truth is, he’s been teaching me far more than I’ve been teaching him.
Not just about riding — but about life, patience, and the way I show up in the world.
Here are just a few of the things my horse has been teaching me…
Patience isn’t just about waiting — it’s about what you do while you wait.
Some days, progress looks like standing still, breathing together, and letting the moment be enough. Those are the days where I learn that “slow” can still be forward.
I used to think a “good ride” meant everything went according to my plan.
Now I know the best rides happen when I listen first.
When my hands are soft, my seat steady, and my heart open — that’s when my horse offers me his trust.
Not all courage looks like galloping across a field.
Sometimes, bravery is simply showing up on the days I feel unsure, tacking up even when my chest feels tight, and taking that first step forward anyway.
If I carry tension into the saddle, he feels it instantly.
If I take a deep breath, so does he.
We mirror each other — and I’ve learned the energy I bring matters more than the cues I give.
The horse world celebrates the big moments — winning runs, personal bests, clean patterns. But in my world right now, a soft trot, a calm lope, or a relaxed trail ride feels like a championship.
Neither of us is perfect, but showing up — day after day, ride after ride — creates trust. The more he learns I’ll be there, the more he meets me halfway.
Sunlight streaming through his mane.
The sound of hoofbeats on a quiet trail.
The soft sigh when he relaxes.
These are the snapshots that stay with me longer than any ribbon.
The fastest path isn’t always the right one.
Some of our best rides are the slowest ones — where the goal isn’t speed, but peace.
I’ve learned to leave bad days at the barn gate. My horse deserves my best, not my baggage.
Every time he walks to the gate to meet me, it feels like a little love letter.
It’s not luck. It’s the result of every moment I chose patience over pressure.
The ribbons, the patterns, the speed work… they’re all fun. But the real goal? A ride where we’re moving as one. That’s the kind of win I’m chasing now.
If I could sum it up in one sentence, it’s this:
My horse isn’t just teaching me how to ride — he’s teaching me how to live.
All photos from @Kiramarie.photography