The graphic spoke to me. So I bought it.
It's a simple design: the neck and head of a horse facing the torso and head of a girl (woman) with a ponytail. The words printed on it sealed the deal and made me relate to the picture (well, that and the fact that the horse looks huge compared to the girl--like the California Horse is--and I often wear my hair in a ponytail): She believed she could. So she did.
Because right now, I am. I have always (well, okay, since I was sixteen) wanted to learn dressage. Not just learn dressage, but master dressage. I wanted to do the movements, do the dance, become one with a horse talented enough to go where most horses and riders never get.
Leasing the California Horse is making this all possible.
No, that's giving him all the credit, which isn't quite true. Let me restate that.
The California Horse is the horse I am partnering with to learn the more complicated movements of the dressage dance. Several things are making it possible. One, being the fact that I finally have time to properly devote to my riding. Another being the availability of this lease of the California Horse; he is a good fit for me--both in terms of size and in terms of temperament. A third, but equally important factor is DH finally seeing how happy riding makes me, instead of looking at me in confusion and saying "you haven't been yourself in years, you used to be much happier".
But most of all, what has made this possible is my belief that I can. I can be a dressage rider. I can learn all this complicated mental and physical dressage stuff. I can pilot this gigantic horse and bring out his talent. I can accomplish my dream. It may not have been in my twenties, or my thirties, but I didn't give up, and now it's happening in my forties. All the challenges that kept me from focusing on my riding goals for decades could have discouraged me enough to make me give up. I mean, two decades is a long time. And physical tasks (like riding) don't get easier as you age. But whenever I would feel like I should just give in, just write it off as a pipe dream of youth, I'd hear voices in my head. Voices of former employers, coaches, trainers. Voices that had one upon a time tried to convince me not to have kids, because I wouldn't be able to ride (and I was "such a good rider") professionally if I had kids. Voices that had once upon a time tried to talk me out of getting married, because a husband would take me away from the horses. A husband, kids, those would tie me up and keep me from becoming the kind of rider I had the talent to be.
I had the talent. I have the talent. So I believed that I needed to bide my time, to wait until the kids were grown and gone, until the housekeeping and child rearing didn't eat up the majority of my waking hours. Then, then I would be able to ride as seriously again as I had in my youth. Then I would be able to realize my potential, to put my talent to use.
I believed I could. So I am.
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