I was reminded recently that it’s been 5 years since my Mojo came home to me.

He broke all my “rules” when I bought him- too old, too small, and been on spell in a paddock for ages. But, you know, there was something about him…

I’d seen his ad online a number of times and ruled him out because of those rules, but something made me pick up the phone anyway and book in a time to see him.

He was a welsh x tb, bay, with a perfect star.  Solidly built, with substance, and great movement with that welsh active hock.  I sat on him, and we went through the gaits around the arena on a long rein and I was already in love.

I debated it with my hubby- bringing up those three rules.  We got him vet checked, and he even passed the damn flexion test with flying colours!  I chatted with hubby about it again, and he spoke those three words all us horse mad girls want to hear.

“Buy the horse.”

A couple of weeks ago I had booked in for a clinic, and was so looking forward to it.  The week prior there was a family emergency, and I spent days in the hospital unsure of what the outcome would be for my nonna. The following week, I was to present a seminar for my clients interstate.  Intellectually, I knew I was under a lot of pressure, but I turned up to that clinic, determined to learn, to listen, to spend some “me” time, thinking I was fine.

I told everyone I was OK.  I didn’t really share any details, I just got on and rode.  Like we all do.

Then mother nature threw in a drastic change in weather, and Mr Mojo didn’t take too kindly to it.  He called my bluff, acted out.  Put on a bit of a performance, but I was still determined.  Like we all are.

Then the coach asked me, “Are you ok?”

“Yes!” I replied, determined to push on.  Then, like a damn bursting, I broke.  “No…”

She took me aside, stood next to me, and said-

“Your horse just called you a liar.  He’s your best friend in the whole world, and he knows you’re not ok.  So just sit there, cry it out.  Cry it out on his back, because he knows you’re not ok.”

And so I did.  And he just stood there, stock still where not one minute before he was trying it on, bucking and tossing about.  He just stood there and let me cry.

We can’t all be superwomen all the time.  As much as we put on that brave face to the world, we carry on, we go to work, we run our businesses, we run the family, we do our best.  Our horses are the gateway to our true selves.

I haven’t done any of the things I wanted to do when I bought Mojo.  I never completed an event, I never entered a show jump competition.  I’ve not brought home heaps of ribbons or rugs.

But I have done things I never thought I would, and I have learned things about myself.  I’ve been challenged, I’ve had my experience challenged, my understanding of things challenged.  The journey I have been on learning from him as changed my business, my philosophy, my outlook on so many things.

They say your horse is a mirror to your soul. Five years on I like what I see, even if he did break all my rules.

Much love to you, my Mojo pony. You’re an absolute superstar in my books!