1 Letter for my mother

I'd like to start by apologizing to you, Mom.

But wait, I don't. My old self apologizes for not being as perfectly perfect as you wished. I'm sorry you didn't give birth to your perfect baby. I'm sorry I couldn't be completely numb. Because such a top dressage, under your guidance, is. Insensitive, interested primarily in victory, in money, in perfection... Everything, just not how feels that poor creature under the saddle.

Horses are of much greater value to me now, whether they cost millions or I take a poor one for a slaughter price. People like you have nothing to do with these beautiful animals. And do you know why? Because people like you don't understand anything. They just sit and command. You chase the ego, you want to fill that huge hole in your heart by destroying horses. When riding, you certainly feel like a goddess, a perfect superwoman in glittering gear. While you are nothing more than a sadistic bitch with a sick need to command others forever. You only make horses ornaments without brains, blinded by your own perfection, which does not even exist. It's so primitive! You repeat the instructions about full grip, traverses, ranvers, half overstepping... At the same time, you have no idea how much the bit in the mouth sometimes hurts when you vent your anger on your stallion. How he crushes his gums, strangles his tongue, planes stools due to too fast a pull. Damn, I'd like to experience that.

You and your riders can only see yourself, your expensive equipment, the cups on the kitchen shelf. You forgot that when you ride a race, you are still sitting on a living creature that feels pain, anger and joy. You buy things like sharp spores or sharper bites just because the poor creature you ride every day has rejected one of your exaggerated nonsense. The horse below you can only shut up. Indeed, if one of them tries to avoid the pain of a poorly chosen equipment, you put a brace on them and you think how well you solved it. And then in races you do as if nothing. As if you didn't train on a krollkur at home, regardless of the horse. All this just because your limited mind simply refused to look at the needs of the animals. You don't want to deal with anything extra, you prefer to choose violence.

There are only three things in your world of elite sports: a machine, otherwise called a horse, money and victory. You wouldn't believe how glad I am that I got out of it all. But my stallion paid a cruel tax. And all because of human stupidity, rudeness, selfishness, and the desire for that stupid perfection. You almost made me a monster. The same monster that you are today and many others whose brain drain your "methods" have so successfully washed out. Don't you still hate it? Of course. You want to win. I don't expect you to ever understand what I'm talking about here.

I'm so incredibly sorry for your horses. You give them superficial names, you hang their pedigrees in a room. At the same time, you are not really interested in the horse itself! I still don't get it, not now. Why did you ever start riding? Was it with good intentions? I wish the people around the Chambers riding area would finally understand that many of the methods used by your riders are thousands of years behind the monkeys. I am now what you have despised all your life; someone with a piece of emotion, with a piece of understanding to horses.

May the bored egoists stop climbing into the stables and finally give peace to all those noble creatures. I can't and don't have to look at it anymore. I don't want to watch how you **** poor animals in what you call sports, how you ruthlessly shorten your path to success, even though you know it's wrong. Threads instead of looking for the cause of the problem, sharp spores, whips... All those words could be replaced by one - pain! Suffering. And also stupidity. You can't do it differently and you've never tried it. All this because of the bloating, the reluctance to deal with the feelings of the horse. Some people are real monsters, not the ones you scared me of as a child. I feel hatred. Hatred even greater than all your desire to win.

When anyone says a horse, you hear either riding, money or competition. Or an animal without its own brain. When one of your horses is so bad that he can no longer race, you usually let him spend it. You don't care what he did for people, how much he suffered because of you. You only have it as a tool. You can easily change dressage like socks. You don't care about them. I don't understand why you prefer not to ride machines. Why do you have to torture a living creature.

Horses are one of the animals that are in Chambers' stables, and unfortunately not only in those legally raped and abused every day, often for the rest of their lives - possibly until they are killed. Well, isn't that unreal? I'm sorry I was ever your daughter. I feel sorry for the young people you destroy and mislead every day. Children who set you as a role model. Although it can all be done differently and you know very well how much of influence you have in your hands.

But why do I wonder. The right path was offered to you and you? You rejected it as a piece of cheap bakelite, blinded by cups, materialism, and your own primitive desire to get them as quickly and easily as possible.

I hope you forget me, I never want to see you again.

With hatred,

Monn