It’s the week between Christmas and New Years. And call it a holiday tradition, but I have no idea what day it is or even what year it is. I’m old enough that it feels like a year lasts about twenty minutes, but this year was the meanest twenty minutes ever. Looking back, it feels like I’ve taken on twenty years of wear and tear. Clearly, I’m unstuck in time.
This year felt like a nonstop sub-freezing-in-July bomb cyclone. There’s zero visibility, but that isn’t the scary part. It feels like I’m teetering on the brink of an abyss, one foot extending over it. My shoulders are coming forward as I shift my weight. I’ll take a big breath and jump, but first, I’ll tell you why.
It’s the time of year we add things up. There have been catastrophic losses this year for the big wide world, but also on my farm and in my circle of friends. The horse industry is changing because of societal pressures, horse ownership is changing because of financial pressures, and worst of all, the overall health of horses in general is on the decline. They are living longer, but with many more health concerns.
Some losses are plain for anyone to see, and some are nestled inside of me. I had one of those birthdays with a zero on the end. There’s a list of things I can no longer do. And another of the things I no longer care to do. The lists slither like drunken reptiles under my feet.
We all had birthdays this year, of course. But please do not patronize me with the “you’re only as old as you feel” gibberish. Today I listened to a woman who wrote a book in which she mourned the beginning of her perimenopausal years. The nostalgic part of me wanted to guffaw. What she saw as the dusk of womanliness was when I was ascending toward full bloom. But I didn’t laugh because I heard fear crack her voice and uncertainty freeze her words. The age we are at is real and personal to each of us. Even if others are older, no one has been exactly us. We take ourselves very personally because we’re human.
Eventually, we remember that humans are more alike than different. It always feels like we are walking a path alone, but we aren’t, because change, as inevitable as it is, makes us blind. It’s the nature of change that we can see it coming and still not recognize it.
If it weren’t for hindsight, how would we ever add the sums and make sense of it all? That’s what this nebulous in-between week is all about. If we are going to jump into a New Year, it’s messy to be pulled kicking and screaming. Better to act like it was your idea all along.
Like many people, I had a habit of doing things the hard way. I used to beat down doors, and it felt right because I’d struggled against the odds so long, I forgot there was a choice. Then I got cornered by circumstances too big to fight. (I wrote a book about it.) The high side of panic is that change seems easier. I was too weak for more mud wrestling with fate, but I couldn’t surrender either. Finally, I decided I would go where I was invited. It sounded heady and wise, but I felt doomed at, um, that perimenopausal age. (!)
What I didn’t remember was that there was always loss before change. We need to make room for what’s coming. I remember my elders reminiscing about how cheap things used to be. They have passed on and I’m the elder now, but I’m happy about the progress. Rotary desk phones gave way to cell phones with no long-distance charges. None! It was as unimaginable as teaching riding lessons online. Horse owners might grouse about technology, but horses like working from home. Will places like our Barn School take the place of traveling to clinics? Horses would think that was progress.
Younger folks aren’t getting into horses like previous generations did. Many of my clients are aging out. Social media, like Facebook, has become even more of a swamp, but at least the number of ads has grown. I’ve started over, but on kinder, safer sites like Bluesky and Substack. It’s like rebuilding after a fire. It’s never going to be the same, and it might be better.
Fewer folks read blogs (even if you still do.) Just when I’m tired and think 15 years of late Thursday nights is enough, someone posts a comment that makes me cry. Your reading along matters that much to me. I know you feel that way about things in your life, too. Not that I’m quitting, or even retreating. Horses are as essential as breathing. Still, I notice horses are fine until the day they are not, and the same is true of us. And we do have to land this dream somehow.
Affirmative training, the method I use with horses, works on me, too. It’s finding the bit of glimmer in the dark and celebrating that. Because complaining and correcting, nagging and punishing, doesn’t work any better on us than it does on animals. Just good sense to find the yes and build on that.
Change feels like loss at first. All the bad ass bravado about aging is just that. I’ve crashed enough to know I want a soft descent. As I’m looking for new doors to open, I hope the old ones don’t kick me on the way out. As my parents approached this age, they lost trust in people. The world changed quicker than they could. They held onto the past like half bewildered time travelers. I wondered then if maybe 70 or 80 years was about as long as a human could tolerate change? If that was why lives lasted that long.
Now I think we’ve adjusted to adjusting. We grumble, but the slice of history we are living in is faster than the last, which was faster than the one before that. I can keep up and participate, but I want be honest with myself. I’m going where I’m invited. A limited future makes each day more precious. Call it a technicolor mortality. We have a choice. We are magical. We can slow down sunsets by stopping to watch them.
No, I won’t be sorry to see this year in the rear view. But it feels like I can let up on the gas just a little and enjoy the view longer. I am wildly curious what the New Year could bring. But first, there are things to toss that have outlived their usefulness. Stale feelings that can be recycled to better use. It’s the bittersweet task of letting go of things I’ve loved to make room for new possibilities. I just needed to talk it out. Okay, now I’m ready to jump.
What are you willing to give up for your next big thing? Whatever it is, it’ll need some closet space.
…
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Affirmative training is the fine art of saying yes.
Bravo so well said, thanks
Thanks, Cindy
Why, is a 63 year old woman who has stepped away from horses (in the physical world) still reading a blog about horses? Because your writing is about so much more than horses. Your musings are a gift I look forward to unwrapping. Thank you and Happy New Year. Let’s jump!
Thank you. I appreciate your kind words. I can’t tell the difference between horses and the real world either.
Agree w/Tracy: “your writing is about so much more than horses.” I do have a horse still but your Friday writings (and books) are a portal to something larger, a kind of North Star that my life is lacking many days. (Or maybe it’s not so much “lacking” as that I keep myself so distracted and busy until someone’s words — most often, YOURS — stop me still. Grateful and wishing you continue for many years.
Thanks, Melissa. I think continuing the blog will mean branching out on my topics some. I long to write wider, somehow. Thanks for your encouragement.
The same reason an 86 year old woman who had to do the same! Yes its more than “about horses”, but allowing me to “be” with horses still is definitely a huge gift. I doubt there will never be a time when I dont miss him (Chico) and all of the others I knew.
Ever not never!!
I appreciate these thoughts about how mixed up change is. It’s coming whether you want it or not, and how you feel about it will influence how it feels to you, and ten minutes later it can feel like it’s bringing even more changes along behind it. I noticed myself feeling less upset during a potentially dreadful situation recently, and realized it wasn’t because I didn’t care what happened, but rather because I accepted that I had done all I could to control what happened. The rest was simply going to happen, whatever that looked like.
I think that’s the win, to do what we can. Always. Thanks, Susan
Oh gods above and below, you’ve done it AGAIN, witchy woman…get outta my head!!!!!! This one moved me to tears in recognition of my own struggling to come to terms with letting go of something so fundamental to who I am I wonder which part of my will become hollow with its removal. The latest stinky ol’ dog has arrived and is actually for the most part the most uncomplicated animal I’ve ever had in my house. She’s just lovely…except for the mammary tumours which turned a lumpectomy into a double mastectomy. Now we’re waiting to get the biopsy results back from the path lab to see what’s next. If malignant, the plan is that she’ll stay here as a palliative foster so I can do my death doulah thing. Situation normal. Except it isn’t. I’m experiencing a full-body no!!! Having to drive two hours through a snow storm to get her into my vet last Monday for her surgery all I could think of was how much I was resenting every second of it. And then the overwhelming guilt of that thought damned near did me in. Rescue is who I am. Death and I are ol’ buddies. But I realized…am realizing…am hating the realization…that I don’t want to do it any more. 40 years of old sick animals is a lot of years of old sick animals. The last year and a half of being at a remove from all that gave me the wings to do more of what is becoming increasingly important to me – my writing. My trip(s) to Scotland. My plans for a more footloose future. And I can’t do any of that with a dog anchoring me here. Yet how do I stop??? So I go round and round and round…at some point, does selfishness stop being self-indulgent? I don’t know the answer to that, I really don’t. “What I didn’t remember was that there was always loss before change. We need to make room for what’s coming.” Does that include a new self?
It’s included me changing in the past, and I know it will in the future. Like I say, there are things I can no longer do… Did I mention change isn’t graceful? Take care, my friend.
💕🍻
thanks, Candis
“…Just good sense to find the yes and build on that…”
Amen, sister…
Thank you, J
“The lists slither like drunken reptiles under my feet.: Yes they do. Pushing 75 this year. I may never ride again. Back problems. Finding new things. Future unclear. There’s always loss before change. Facing the new year with as much bravery as possible. Much love , and much admiration for your ability to share good thoughts with your writing.
Thanks, Laurel. Being a horsewoman isn’t dependent upon riding… take care.
Thanks Anna! I love your blogs. They are my favorite and always say something helpful and meaningful for me. I read every one you post.
Thank you, Suzanne. I appreciate it.
Hola Anna ~
It’s been a long while …
I think of you often and want you to know that you are still one of the bravest women I know !!
This latest essay sure hit the mark for me.
We keep on keeping on !!
Good on us💓☮️
Let there always be dogs!! Thanks Wendy. Take care.
Again you have reminded me that there are other folks out there that are pushing forward trying to do right for our animals and ourselves. Thank you, happy new year
We are an army… thanks Sue.
Leaving a comment just for the heck of it. I look forward to your writings. They resonate. Thank you!
I appreciate it. Writers send words out into the cosmos. Glad to hear they landed. Thanks, Kelley.
Hi Anna, I guess you have reached one of those places in life when we have to reevaluate our next move. I still go and see my Aruna a couple of times a year. Every time I go, the owner asks me if I would like to ride. As someone who will be 84 in the next few weeks I always say no thanks but I still dream that I am the best rider in the world. Still read your column regularly.
Fred!! So good to hear from you! And riding was just the cherry on top, you and Aruna are so much more than that. Best wishes, my friend.
It was strange reading your post this morning. Prior to reading it I was experiencing many of the same feelings. My body was telling me things that my mind didn’t want to hear. Thank you for putting words to it, as you talked it out.
Ah, Chaz. I have to write to know what I think. Thank you, we are on the same path…
thank you
Best wishes, Mari
Thank you for what you do. Your blog posts always hit a few notes and today, especially so. I cleared out a lot of Facebook by following other options, with your site and blog being prominent. And that’s a very good loss. A good year to you, Anna!
FB is so toxic but we are like frogs in hot water… until we arent. Thanks, Minna
Thank you for this post, Anna. “Change feels like loss at first” is a very helpful thought for me now. Wishing you joy in the new year.
I need to remind myself, too. Thanks, Maxine
Thank you for your consistent posting. I love every one of them. So true about change and loss. I had not thought of it in the same terms.
Happy New Ears to you!
They’re attached… Edgar Rice Burro sends as bray. Thanks, Peg
Well- done ! Thank you for this, Anna..as I mentioned in a Happy Hour I think having horses is an opportunity for aligning ourselves with the Natural Order. In my current situation it is aging with accompaning limitations & loss that is creating some distress for me around my love of having horses.
Only natural that my elder horse would have issues leading to scheduling a euthanasia but oh so hard to accept that, and to accept that its unlikely I will ride again or continue to have horses at my property..ok, thats my whine for today.
But grateful to be reminded loss creates an opening for something new
It sounds like such a loss, and I know it is. I’m sorry. And they say Nature abhors a vacuum, so I will trust that. I know you are grateful, but I think in his way, Cash has always been more grateful. Take care.
A very Happy New Ears to you too Anna. Thank you so much for your writing. I look forward to your wise words and the way you can say the things I’m thinking so eloquently xx
More alike than different… Thanks, Karyn
I don’t know how this happens, but your posts always sound like they were written after you and I had had a long conversation over coffee. You always manage to touch on where I’m at. It is a little miracle, like getting Wordle in two. One of the pleasures of getting to this particular birthday-with-a-zero we share, is being able to reflect on our lives. So many do not get that opportunity. And the changes keep on happening, some expected, but many unanticipated and unpredictable. Good thing we know how to laugh.
Wouldn’t a nice long coffee be a treat? Such a great comment, thank you, Susan. It’s such an interesting thing to have this opportunity, having seen so many changes. Wishing you the best in the New Year. Please scratch the cat that I hope is still keeping your keyboard company.
Thank you Anna, this post definitely hits home.
Thanks, Beverly.
I love your writing. I wait for your Friday wisdom and insight. Thank you so much.
Thank you for saying so. I appreciate it, Diane.
I’m hearing you, and resonating.
have no idea what my next big thing is, or even if there will be one.
with an emotional and stressful house move and much loss behind me, i am now facing retirement from all day everyday work with young people.
so i guess there is plenty of room.
thank you as always for saying things so much better than i can!!
Great comment, Chris. I woke up, am 70, and not dead yet. So now what?? I’m with you, let’s figure it out.
ps. i reckon i was having the same cup of coffee with you and Susan, and also many of the other people on here. approaching the 0 birthday myself, and expecting loss of canine and equine kind.
i used to run workshops on “change management” as a loose title and regularly talked about how all change involves a loss – i think thats something most of us often forget- especially if you are in the business of trying to help others change!
thanks again will return to reread this one im sure.
yup. even when we know…
You’d be welcome at coffee.
As Susan says, laughter is the best medicine ever, something I try to do daily as I reach out to my fellow comedians in this life…and,
as long as I don’t have to call what you do a “blog,” I’ll be here reading you, Anna!
Is essay better? A friend of mine hates the B word. But I agree about humor. It’s my weapon of choice for the things beyond my choice. Thanks, Lynell.
I so enjoy your posts – and your perspective. Thank you for sharing!
Thanks so much, Crystal.
I love this essay. Letting up on the gas is an apt description of watching the years go by. I am enjoying more of the view but my time seems to go faster. For the first time in my life I can spend time with horses all day and nobody interferes!
Now you’re on horse time! Good for you. Thanks, Lisa
What a great essay, Anna. Love your writing. Best wishes to you and yours for 2025 (yikes! Hang on lol)
Yup, Tammy. A warm-up for 2025! Yikes is right. Thanks for commenting.
Anna, I wonder if writing the truth is as moving as reading the truth?
If I were there with you as I finished reading this piece, I would reach out with my gnarly, worn out hands and take your (possibly similar) hands in mine; look into your brilliant eyes and say “Wow, what a ride it’s been…….and we haven’t fallen off yet”.
Happiest of New Years!
I would have loved that hand-shared moment, but no… I never know if what I’m writing makes sense because I am trying to figure it out at the same time. Thanks, Laurie. Glad this one worked.
On this year’s final day—the one before the one we start from—and after reading your brilliantly resonant and inspiring essay, I realize how often and lately I have been pausing, listening, and paying closer attention to what comes to me in the stillness.
I am reflecting on 2024’s upheavals and the changes left in their wake, not the least of which is time rolling on in its usual and customary way. I want to do my best to align with all of that, with grace and acceptance, and be intentional about what comes next and the decisions I make. Because that is something I still get to choose.
As you said, Anna: “…we have a choice. We are magical. We can slow down sunsets by stopping to watch them.”
I will always Say Yes to that.
Thanks, Leslie. And the New Year is a day of choice, too. Best wishes.
Beautiful words- I am going to do Affirmative training on myself too – I love that idea -Thank you!
Thanks Charlotte. Glad to hear it.
I love reading your posts Anna so please keep up with the Thursday nights! Right now I am moving my office/dispensary after working out of here for 35 years. Amazing how time flies. I’m enjoying that it finally feels pretty darn good to let go of all sorts of things that I really don’t need anymore, plus rediscovering memories of so many horses…..
Have a joyful and satisfying year Anna. The horses and all thank you.
That sounds like a change big enough to call transformation. Congrats, Angela.
Retired 15 months ago from a working class struggle rat race with all the stress, anxiety, health issues to stay afloat with family and my horses.
It’s taken 13 months to understand I don’t need to micro manage every minute to fit everything needed to be done in.
Recently I’ve been experiencing flash backs to the 10-15 yr old horse crazy girl who just existed with them in all ways before the adulting must be better, compete, get judged, found wanting, try harder harder not succeeding very well me happened.
The incredible feeling of remembering this me horse girl, who loved horses with no expectations other than being together, is mind altering to the 65 yr old me and it’s because I’ve stopped rat racing so to speak in all ways.
My 3 horses who have been retired for 15 yrs say welcome to the real world woman and my one semi retired from carrying me through the forest and has anxiety, shuts down, struggles with life due to his previous life (he’s been with me 4.5 yrs) is beginning to understand the 13 yr old girl is back. He is grateful too.
Thanks as always Anna for being you and for sharing that.
Cheers. Here’s to horse crazy girls and retirement in your sense! Congrats, Sheri!
Dearest Anna.
I still read blogs. Yours in particular. Over and over. I turned 60 not long ago. Life moves so fast. I lost a loved dog yesterday. Your blogs help me get through that loss. I have no horses but I love them. Your blog keeps me in touch with that love. Thank you.
Grace
So sorry for your loss, Grace. Dogs are such a large part of our lives, I know you will miss him. Thank you for reading along. Take care.