I am standing in front of a mirror, a mirror built of bone and blood and skin and sweat. It breathes through velvet nostrils in the cold autumn air. The mirror shows power, grace, beauty and wisdom. Everything I want to be.

The horses, they are all mirrors. When I am calm, the horse is quiet and still. When I am afraid, the horse jumps at shadows and skirts away from loud noises. If the horse was made of glass, I could walk out of the frame and my reflection would be permanently erased. But when my reflection is alive and untamable in front of me, I don’t get to just walk away when I don’t like what I see.

See, people who think riding is about mastering the horse understand it all wrong. I will never master an animal ten times my size and a hundred times my strength- I know I only get to be with the horse if they let me be with them, and I only get to talk to them if they feel like listening. No. Riding is about mastering myself. I have ridden upon my own fear, danced around my joy, and walked shoulder to shoulder with my own peace.

This is why I ride, even when I am too scared and too weak. Even when it hurts. Even when I fall, I must get back on. Because that’s how it works with the horses. You experience an unscheduled dismount, and then you get back on and do it again, whatever it was you were doing that made you meet your shadow, until you can do it without losing your place. Falling does not make you a bad rider. But getting back on, that’s what makes you a truly powerful rider.