{"id":363070,"date":"2026-01-12T08:16:07","date_gmt":"2026-01-12T13:16:07","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/www.chronofhorse.com\/?post_type=article&p=363070"},"modified":"2026-01-12T08:16:11","modified_gmt":"2026-01-12T13:16:11","slug":"this-year-of-the-horse-the-equines-make-the-resolutions","status":"publish","type":"article","link":"https:\/\/www.chronofhorse.com\/article\/this-year-of-the-horse-the-equines-make-the-resolutions\/","title":{"rendered":"This Year Of The Horse, The Equines Make The Resolutions"},"content":{"rendered":"\n

In the early hours of 2026, I tugged my winter muck boots over pajama pants, pulled on my down parka, and traipsed to the barn through a few new inches of snow.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I told my husband I wanted to check on the horses; some neighbors were shooting off fireworks, and I wanted to make sure the horses weren\u2019t bothered. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

But the real reason for my post-midnight barn visit was that I needed a few minutes to myself as the year turned. I needed some quiet. Some time to reflect. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

I love looking back at the year that has passed, remembering highs and lows, considering the coulda-done-betters, grieving the inevitable losses, and filing for the future the lessons learned.<\/p>\n\n\n

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This new year, blogger Sarah Susa decided to let the school horses in her lesson program teach her, too, letting them serve as guides for the resolutions she will set for the year ahead. Photos Courtesy Of Sarah Susa<\/figcaption><\/figure><\/div>\n\n\n

I also love setting New Year\u2019s resolutions, focusing on the habits or practices that deserve more attention in the coming year: more riding, more resting, more writing, more screen-free quality time with my husband and son. A folder on my laptop contains lists that go back more than a decade: goals for myself, set January after January.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

But as 2025 drew to a close, I had little time for reflection. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

In early December, while moving a fridge with a friend, my husband ripped his quadriceps tendon from his patella. Surgery followed a week later\u2014holes drilled in bone, and the tendon stitched back through\u2014and his full recovery seems as far away as the horizon.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

My husband has spent the past month frustratingly incapacitated on our couch. I, in that time, have been singlehandedly manning a 4-year-old son, a full-time job, a nine-horse barn, and all the chaos that accompanies the holidays, including hosting dinner for a dozen on Christmas Eve. There\u2019s been little time for breathing,<\/em> let alone reflecting on 2025 and setting intentions for 2026.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

As we welcome in this new year, I realized recently, we will also welcome in the Year of the Horse with the Lunar New Year in February. (You\u2019ve seen the memes, haven\u2019t you, about how we should hope it\u2019s a bay gelding over a chestnut mare, or how we\u2019d better longe it first?) <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Perhaps this knowledge, too, was pulling me to the barn in the early hours of this new year. I needed a few quiet minutes with my herd. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

In our lesson program, we ask our riders to pay attention to their mounts, both on the ground and in the saddle. We encourage them to learn equine body language and to listen and respond when their horses try to communicate. There\u2019s a lot to learn, we remind our students, when we really tune in to our horses. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

But too often, as the one doing the teaching,<\/em> I forget that I, too, could benefit from the learning.<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

As I made my way down the aisle in the wee hours of Jan. 1, handing out treats and rubbing fuzzy faces, I considered what I<\/em> might learn from my horses. Their value, as schoolies, comes not from fancy movements or trophy collections or impressive bloodlines,<\/em> but from entirely from their innate ability to teach.<\/em> What, I wondered, could I learn here, from my friends?<\/p>\n\n\n\n

So as I welcomed in this new year of the horse, with my horses, I decided I\u2019d let some of them serve as guides for how I might approach the year ahead.\u00a0<\/p>\n\n\n

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Susa realized school horses Liffey (left) and Waffles each had set an example for her to try following in the year ahead.<\/figcaption><\/figure><\/div>\n\n\n

Liffey\u2019s Resolution: Make Time For Connection<\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n

Liffey, my gray OTTB mare, is our barn greeter and the most social horse in our herd. She\u2019s in the first stall and one of the few whose stall-guard privileges remain; if someone enters the barn, she\u2019s sticking out her head to say hello. (And I dare you to ignore her; she\u2019ll throw a full-on tantrum until she gets your attention.)<\/p>\n\n\n\n

We\u2019re on daytime turnout now, so the horses are generally coming in from the field around dinner time. Most of my horses march down the aisle and directly into their stalls, hoping to be met with their evening meal.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

But not Lif. Her field is behind the barn, so she has to traverse the whole aisle to reach her stall. And as she does so, she stops at each stall to say hi to her friends. She sniffs at Gypsy until Gypsy gets annoyed and nips at her, she flirts with Moose (who is totally<\/em> in love with her), and she nuzzles Waffles, her very best friend. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

She\u2019s not in a rush to get home. She makes time to connect with others, knowing those she loves add immeasurable value to her life. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

I\u2019m busy by nature and thrive on a packed schedule. But between a full-time job with a long commute, a full barn and a preschooler with no off button, it\u2019s a rare treat to meet a friend for dinner or coffee or a hike. When I do make time, though, the people I love always more than fill my cup. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

May I follow Liffey\u2019s lead and make more time for my family and friends so that 2026 brings me more of these vital connections, too.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Waffles\u2019 Resolution: Stop Expecting The Worst<\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n

Waffles came to us in his late teens after retiring from a long and successful jumping career. He transitioned to his new, step-down lesson-horse job like the absolute professional that he is, aside from occasionally jumping a ground pole as if it were a 3\u2019 oxer with elaborate fill. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Under saddle his trot was rhythmic and floaty, his canter like a rocking horse, his lead-changes automatic. In short, he was the perfect teacher of contact and collection. On the ground, his manners are impeccable, though he\u2019ll occasionally give students a run for their money if he\u2019s not ready to come in from the field. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

When he was 21, he pulled a check ligament, which we slowly but successfully rehabbed. Then at age 24, he tore his deep digital flexor tendon in his right front. Because of his near-perfect nature, both under saddle and on the ground, we made plans with our vet to rehab this injury, too, and threw everything but the kitchen sink at this very best boy: ice, stall rest, shockwave therapies, platelet-rich-plasma, and even some trial medications and therapies that our vet asked Waffles to guinea-pig.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

After months of stall rest, he progressed to hand-walking, still gentlemanly despite being cooped up. He never acted up, and eventually students took turns walking him before or after lessons, where they\u2019d delight in Waffles\u2019 interest in nuzzling the barn cats.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

But then we noticed a new swelling, lower down that injured leg: Somehow, on stall rest, Waffles had torn his suspensory. My vet, ultrasound wand in hand, delivered the news with tears in her eyes. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

My brain, when presented with just about any scenario, likes to imagine the worst possible outcome. Someone hands me their baby, and my brain envisions dropping it. My husband is late coming home and obviously, my brain argues, he\u2019s dead on the side of the road.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

So learning this news about our beloved schoolie, I immediately went worst-case: After all this, I thought, we were going to have to put him down. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

My vet, who is also a cherished friend, said that if she were in my shoes, she\u2019d rest him a few more weeks and then slowly start to turn him out to pasture. He\u2019d been trapped in his stall for so long. Perhaps with zero expectations, she suggested, we\u2019d see if he could hold up just being a pasture puff.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

If he was hurting, there was our answer, she said. We\u2019d set a date to end his suffering. But maybe, she thought, he\u2019d be pasture-sound and able to enjoy some time outside with his friends. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

A few weeks later, stomach in my throat, I led Waffles to the back field lecturing him on the life and death importance of maintaining his sanity. Liffey, his best bud, was out there already, munching hay. I let him loose. Waffles\u2019 head snapped up when he realized that, for the first time in months, he was free. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

He trotted a few steps, sniffed the grass, then dropped to the ground for a lengthy roll, grinding his head in the warm dirt and flipping from one side to the other, then back again, grunting with just how good it all felt. He hopped to his feet, let out a few happy bucks, then settled in to snack beside his friend.  <\/p>\n\n\n\n

It’s been months now, and there\u2019s not the slightest hitch in Waffles\u2019 giddy-up. What started as limited turnout with his one, safe friend has turned into full days outside with his little herd. He\u2019s sound. He\u2019s happy. And it feels like a little miracle. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

I\u2019ll try\u2014like Waffles\u2014to live in the moment in the year ahead, instead of worrying constantly about when the next shoe is going to drop. I\u2019ll try to control what I can, like leaving him inside, for example, on days when the fields freeze into sheets of ice. And I\u2019ll try to let go of the things I can\u2019t, focusing instead what\u2019s true in the present: the joy, for example, of a happy, old horse in the field with his friends. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Gypsy\u2019s Resolution: Set Boundaries And Stand Up For Yourself <\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n

Gypsy is 12 hands tall, with a black, velvety coat and a perfect little white star on her dainty little face\u2014a miniature Black Beauty who, since arriving at our farm in early 2018, has always been a barn favorite. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

She\u2019s the first horse most young riders learn to lead or groom or saddle. She\u2019s the first one most swing a leg over in the arena; the first horse they learn to stop or steer. If you kinda-but-not-right ask her to walk or trot or turn, she will. She forgives our young, new riders and grants them nearly endless patience. <\/p>\n\n\n

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Lesson pony Gypsy may by only 12 hands tall, Susa writes, but “she sets boundaries for herself\u2014don\u2019t eat my hay and get out of my space\u2014and then she stands up for herself when those boundaries are crossed.” <\/figcaption><\/figure><\/div>\n\n\n

This kindness, however, she leaves behind at the pasture gate.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

In the field, Gypsy is in charge, despite the 6\u2014or 8 or 10\u2014inches that all of her companions have on her. If one of them eyeballs the pile of hay she deems \u201chers,\u201d she\u2019ll bare her teeth and run them off. If someone enters her personal space without an invitation, she turns her hindquarters in warning. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Rarely does she make contact with her frenemies. Rarely does she draw blood. She doesn\u2019t need to. She sets boundaries for herself\u2014don\u2019t eat my hay and get out of my space\u2014and then she stands up for herself when those boundaries are crossed. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

I am no Gypsy. Conflict makes me squirm, and I\u2019ll generally choose personal discomfort over upsetting someone else. But as I get older, I admire the Gypsies I know, whether four legged or two. In 2026, may I set a few more boundaries to protect my own peace. And may I find the strength and courage to stand up for myself a little more this year, too. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

As we step forward into this new year, and as we welcome in the Year of the Horse, may we all continue to learn from our equine partners. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

And may the year bring us\u2014literally or metaphorically\u2014many clear rounds, picturesque trails, quiet hours in the barn, and moments of connection that sustain us throughout the year. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

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Sarah K. Susa is the owner of Black Dog Stables just north of Pittsburgh, where she resides with her husband and young son. She has a B.A. in English and Creative Writing from Allegheny College and an M.Ed. from The University of Pennsylvania. She teaches high school English full-time, teaches riding lessons and facilitates educational programs at Black Dog Stables, and has no idea what you mean by the concept of free time.  <\/em><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"In the early hours of 2026, I tugged my winter muck boots over pajama pants, pulled on my down parka, and traipsed to the barn through a few new inches of snow. I told my husband I wanted to check on the horses; some neighbors were shooting off fireworks, and I wanted to make sure […]\n","protected":false},"author":114764,"featured_media":363126,"menu_order":0,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_mo_disable_npp":"","ngg_post_thumbnail":0,"_cloudinary_featured_overwrite":false},"tags":[9607],"article_categories":[1015,9401],"acf":{"ad_unit":"","ad_unit_mobile":"","spotlight_visible_till":"","image_home_display":"","facebook_image":"","featured_image_caption":"","hide_featured_image":["yes"],"sponsor_heading":"","sponsor":"","sponsor_logo":"","sponsor_link":"","related_gallery":"0","blogger_profile":325238},"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.chronofhorse.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/articles\/363070"}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.chronofhorse.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/articles"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.chronofhorse.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/article"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.chronofhorse.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/114764"}],"version-history":[{"count":8,"href":"https:\/\/www.chronofhorse.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/articles\/363070\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":363158,"href":"https:\/\/www.chronofhorse.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/articles\/363070\/revisions\/363158"}],"acf:post":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.chronofhorse.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/blogger_profile\/325238"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.chronofhorse.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/363126"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.chronofhorse.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=363070"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.chronofhorse.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=363070"},{"taxonomy":"article-category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.chronofhorse.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/article_categories?post=363070"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}