Home Team
Back in the heady days of starting to ride Milton [Milton’s Show Schedule], the original plan for last weekend’s show [For This I Cleaned My Tack?] was to do the small three-phase.
Ha.
Okay, it wasn’t so much a plan as a hope. Lots of stars needed to align for that to have happened. More realistically, there was the idea of jumping around one of the little stadium courses.
Ha. Ha.
At least we could do walk-trot-canter dressage tests and come back the next day to school cross-country, this time at a trot [Mr. Excitement Regards His Future]?
Ha. Ha. Ha.
Because of my thwarted plans, I was not prancing about about farting rainbows and spouting platitudes.
Every ride is a special occasion.
If you are lucky enough to be on a horse, you are lucky enough.
I believe these platitudes. I was not feeling these platitudes. Instead, I was watching horses of all shapes and abilities go over teeny, tiny, wee jumplets, and thinking,
‘That should be ME!’
I hate goals.
Thank you for reading,
Katherine Walcott
Virtual Brush Box 
It has been said that alll unhappiness comes from anticipation. However, I find the anticipation is a large part of the experience.
My mother wasn’t fond of surprises. She preferred to savor the event in advance. And was suitably annoyed when her expectations weren’t met.
One of the joys of my marriage is making plans and, when they don’t work out, making other plans. We don’t count on the future so much as we look forward to it if it happens.
Having said that, when I got a severe hitch in my life this spring, I was a crazy person.
The gods laughed.
My sympathies.
I guess it divides into anticipation and what one does when the anticipation is not met. The test of one’s zen is when ideas meet reality.