By PIPER KLEMM, Ph.D.
Something I remember so vividly growing up in this sport is reading inspirational articles about incredible horsepeople. Those who defied odds. Those who were excellent, even though every data point said they had no reason to be. I had no one to really communicate with pre-internet about these stories, but I talked in person at the barn about them and used them to fuel my desire for upward understanding and mobility in the sport.
When I first embarked on The Plaid Horse, there was a mix of responses to our own stories. Some responses were inspired and excited and fantastical—that a rescue pony could go far, a kid with circumstances made something happen, and an adult amateur finally broke through. Social media sometimes got nasty, but not always. There were heartwarming comments, words of cheer, and similar tales told in response. It wasn’t perfect, but it was good.
Now I find myself almost afraid to tell an inspiring story. I fear for the attacks and the backlash of the real people in our own community who share their stories with me. I don’t think they should be opening themselves up to all that they are for being real and open and wanting others to keep dreaming even through excessive roadblocks.
Which makes me conclude that we are culturally facing a war on inspiration.
Maybe our audience is just bigger, maybe those who actually are still commenting on social media have less restraint, or maybe social attitudes have simply shifted on feel-good stories. People seem so determined to make every article not inspiring. They want to tear down and poke holes in every part of someone else’s achievement. They want it to be wrong so badly. They want vindication in the fact that they do not anymore (if they ever did) believe.
One of my many obsessions is what makes people in our industry successful. I want to understand every facet of it so that we can pass it on to the next generation. If we could hand them all the knowledge that previous generations struggled to achieve, all of us would. While I understand that we cannot teach wisdom, we can teach facts and tactics. We can encourage everyone to undertake a lifelong process of developing feel by constantly overdoing and underdoing and measuring every system we encounter.
To be a winner, there is an element of doing what everyone else is doing and simply doing it better. There is also an element modifying and editing current strategies so that they fit your own limitations, strengths, and tendencies. Our sport has a huge level of decades-long stamina, emotional control, ability to cope with life, and ability to always press on without the time or energy to blame.
How do we inspire those who are resisting? How do we inspire those who have an excuse, often loudly, of why a rider or a horse is not actually inspiring? Are they reacting to the idea that inspiration implies a desire for change and desire for change implies dissatisfaction with where you currently are?
I struggle to relate to this, given that I find just about everyone’s story to be inspiring when I truly dig down in it with them. As Brene Brown says, “Everyone has a story or a struggle that will break your heart. And if we’re really paying attention, most people have a story that will bring us to our knees.”
We are not lacking inspiring stories. Probably my favorite class to watch this year was when Luciana Lossio (Brazil) won her first ever five-star Grand Prix at the Winter Equestrian Festival (Wellington, FL) against all the greats. It was great sport—at 49 years old, she simply completely unpredictably outrode the competition in a statistic-defying fairy tale.
As she told Horse & Hound, “This is unbelievable—I’ve been with this mare for six years and in the beginning I just wanted to jump 1.20 m, but we became so much more. We went higher and higher and today I’m here in my first five-star and winning alongside these riders that I just enjoy watching.”
How do we tell stories to prevent backlash? I don’t think we can prevent it 100 percent, but I do think we can help people with the coping mechanisms to handle criticism in all forms—from productive types lessons, discussions, phone calls, and beneficial confrontations; to identifying and ignoring unproductive types such as internet comments, gossip, whispers, and rumors.
Can we truly encourage and implore our community to improve? To be inspired to do better every single tomorrow than they did today? To consider those beyond themselves and put every horse first and grow a legacy of benevolence, standards, and growth that they can be proud of for decades to come? To be dissatisfied with themselves in a productive manner of encouragement and not a debilitating place of falling backwards?
I believe we can. I believe that in 2025 I will develop the bravery yet again to publish stories that really matter and make change, and that we can be elevated and not destroyed by commentary and discussions. I believe in our community. I believe that we always need to invite each other, and listen to each other, and be more present with each other to achieve our goals. I believe we have all done so much work and have so much left to do. I believe that 2025 holds great accomplishment, great stories, and great collaboration through great and tough times. I believe that you can talk about ideas and not people. And when you find yourself discrediting those around you, you take a pause to think and instead focus on how much you are helping all those coming behind you in this sport. I encourage you to be the role models you want to see in the sport, to live your values no matter what pressures and outside influences come upon you, and that you never let go of your dreams. Happy New Year!
