Minimalism and horses: a love story
Big thank you to Evie Lewis for the photography featured in this blog post. I’ve never felt so at ease having my photo taken as I did with Evie. You can find out more about her incredible work here.
Cervical cancer had been and gone and I found myself sitting at the dining table staring at a page in my notebook I had titled ‘joy list’.
I’d developed an obsession with minimalist living and subsequently decided I was only surrounding myself with what added value to my life from now on. I’d been chasing all the wrong things. My ‘how I spend my time’ list had well and truly overwhelmed me but this list would be different. This would be a glorious whittled down list of the things that made me happiest. Horses came out second. I remember feeling surprised by this, but it felt right. Before that point I hadn’t given much thought to what made me happy, never mind the radical idea that I should prioritise such things.
Horses should have never been part of my life. Stereotypically they’re associated with the wealthy, and I grew up far from a land called wealthy. My mum, a single parent of two girls, one with a disability and no child support for either (I’m still waiting to receive my first birthday card from he who shall not be named), was so determined to live out her own childhood fantasies she somehow waved a magic wand to bring horses into our lives. Looking back now, at the age she was then, I have no idea how she did it.
We lived in a small house that was re-mortgaged at any given opportunity, I got used to my own company early on so she could work both of her NHS nursing jobs and holidays were near non-existent. I didn’t mind sleeping in room 17 of the ICU department at the local private hospital so she could cram in an extra night shift. They had Sky and a buzzer I could press for tuna sandwiches. On the surface of this reality was our exterior horsey existence. My weekends were spent battling it out for red rosettes at local riding competitions and my evenings after school were spent practicing. Those are some of the happiest memories I have. They also taught me to never ever assume those with horses have money, it’s more likely the reason they don’t have any at all.
The equestrian strand of my identity and the joy it brings has come into jeopardy more than once. The first was following a break from riding, during which time I got married to the least horsey person I could’ve wished for. Impending stops on the life map were children, a bigger mortgage, a better job and even less time to the things that truly mattered to me. I was not destined to pass go, I would not collect £200. I couldn’t let that happen. I knew those should dos weren’t right for me, but I felt afraid to take my own path and it felt easier to go with the flow. I didn’t want what everyone else seemed to want, I knew that. I wanted my own version of life, one that felt like me. One that got me out of bed every morning. I just had to figure out what that was. I knew I wanted to ride again and I thought I wanted to compete, so I started. Soon after, I decided against having children.
Do what makes you happy seems like a simple recipe but it can be more complicated than that. I have agonised over the role horses have played and continue to play in my life. Do they actually bring me joy? I loved riding but the driving force was always my mum and this is where things got complicated for me. I was all too aware of mum’s sacrifices when I was younger and this added pressure for me to enjoy what she’d made happen for me. Ever since I put horses on my joy list it’s been a worry that I’d actually manufactured a joy out of obligation and guilt. Finding a truthful answer to this question has taken work.
Horses are fun but they’re also time consuming, expensive and competition life is tough. The deeper I waded into minimalism the less willing I was to sacrifice my money and energy for people pleasing purposes. I’d always wrapped my self-worth in my competition results and from a mental health perspective it can be a tough space for me to exist. It’s been a great strain on my relationship with my mum at times but also given me the happiest memories of her. Joyful yes, but so many strings of doubt attached.
The second threat was when Teddy got injured. Competing him at the level we’d been used to wasn’t an option anymore. To go back to competing we’d need another pony, we’d need Oscar. Now, I love Teddy more than I love most humans. He’s my pony of a lifetime and he made more than one dream come true when he took me into a championship at Horse of the Year Show in 2015. This had been the stuff of dreams for both that little girl who’s parent’s weren’t horsey as well as that little girl who spent her evenings practicing for the weekend shows. I never felt good enough to make it that far, but Ted, he made it happen for me, for both of us. That means he’s here for good. I owe him so much, selling him was never an option for me. I’ve even thought about what I’d do if I went bankrupt and selling him still isn’t an option. I’ve got a cheap retirement home lined up for him worst case.
As if things weren’t bad enough with Ted’s injury, mum got breast cancer around the same time. All this lead to a two year break from competing and this is where my joy for horses was tested the most - deciding, firstly whether I even wanted to go back into that world, and secondly deciding to give up what it would take to finance it was really tough. Do I want this badly enough? Do I want to give it the time I know it takes? Does it actually make me happy? Am I just doing this for my mum? I agonised over these questions until my head hurt.
The only way to find out the answer was to firstly strip my self-worth away from the results side of competing and then take a leap of faith and experiment. I had to stop distracting myself with the worry of what joy looks like, how it feels, whether I was making mistakes, getting it right or doing it wrong. I had to stop circling around the elephant in the room and overthinking, get curious and just give things a go again. Then I had to allow myself to feel whatever came my way, whether that was joy or despair. This was when Oscar came into our lives.
At our first show this spring, Oscar and I found ourselves standing at the top of a line up with a red rosette clipped onto my show jacket. It was easily the best day of 2019 so far and that red rosette, whilst a delicious cherry on top of the cake, was by no means the reason for that. It was the best day of 2019 because it was full of utter joy. That feeling where you want to replay the tiny moments and all the details that make them up over and over agin in your head. That feeling where you know you’re creating your life highlights and not because they’ll look good on Instagram, because you’ll want to remember them in the end, just for you, because they’re enough. There was no despair, no guilt, no obligation. It was full of laughter, love and life. By the end of the day I knew that the ability to connect me to those precious gems of existence is why horses went on my list that day and that’s why they’re on there to stay. I just had to give myself permission to realise it.
Minimalism and horses are two words I would forgive you for not associating together, but things aren’t always what they seem. Minimalism is all about doing more with less. I think of it as a tool that sits on my shoulder whispering ‘question the status quo of more’ in my ear. This is my version anyway and it works for me. That tool has helped me overcome obstacles that have gotten in the way of what matters most and helped me achieve a life I love. A life full of horses.
A few practical ways I apply my obsession with minimal living to the horsey side of life.
Finances – I feel grateful every single day that I got a mum who loves horses as much as I do. It’s a passion we share and it binds us together as well as testing our relationship to the limit at times. The costs are shared between us and I couldn’t do it without her. I cover my side of the costs by bumping horses high up my financial priority list.
Rugs – Just like with my own wardrobe, I buy quality rugs that are made to last. Over time this makes the rugs cheaper, more sustainable and it results in me buying less overall. Rugs are my biggest flaw when it comes to my horsey spending habits but I try my best to only buy the ones we need, eradicate duplicates and make sure each one has a job (or three) to do.
Grooming –My grooming kit resembles my home cleaning kit in that it’s filled with the essentials only and the more jobs a product can do the more I love it. Questioning the value of those latest trend items has saved me a fortune and endless storage space.
Tack –Use it or lose. A regular audit of gathering all the tack you own, laying it out on the floor and questioning it’s purpose before putting it back where it belongs will keep clutter to a minimum. Be realistic about those just in case items and only store what you must. Often the thing is costing us more in storage space than it is adding value.
Time –I know my time is my most precious asset and I try to spend it wisely. When it comes to diary planning, I schedule my real life first and that includes riding time. I make it a priority.Life is a series of trade offs and when I say no to something I remind myself what I’m saying yes to. The ability to say no is a muscle and like any muscle the more you use it the stronger it gets.
If you take just one thing away from this story let it be this – fight hard not to lose your grasp on what brings you joy. Maybe it wasn’t a childhood love like mine but whatever it is that’s just yours, that lights you up hang onto it for dear life and make the space it – and you – deserve. Making a list sounds easy enough but I’ve found it isn’t always an easy road to figuring out what makes us happy. It takes thought, risk and experimentation but being brave is oh so worth it. On the other side of all that overthinking, distraction and deprivation was the life I wanted, no needed to be living. I finally feel like I’m chasing all the right things.
