By weekday, I work as an editor at a luxury magazine. Though The Times is a serious, down-to-earth magazine, there’s undeniably glamour to my job. There are expensive lunches. There are serious conversations about the intersection of luxury and health. And there are handbags.
But on weekends, I ride a big, strong, beautiful grey horse named Easter. My job puts me in a carefree world, so it helps if I have the fun to do so by literally falling on my haunches and wiping horse shit off my face.
I owe my enjoyment of riding to my teacher, Marjorie Ramsay. Now in her 80s, Marjorie is an incredible woman. She and her husband, Richard, are top judges and breeders and producers of champion show horses. She is hilariously qualified to teach me. But even though she has all the credentials to be a preternaturally formidable equestrian, she is forthright without being discouraging, funny without being mean, and above all, overwhelmingly encouraging. Whether I’m doing something a little tricky like dressage or simply jumping a little smaller than a pencil case, she has the same beaming smile and genuinely gives the impression that Easter and I have made her day.
There is no greater luxury than encouragement. Think of the moment when you have to endure an unpleasant medical procedure without anesthesia, and a nurse holds your hand and tells you how well you are doing. This is nonsense. The doctor may be doing well, the nurse may be doing well, but you are not doing anything. Your absolute job is to wait for things to be done to you. But somehow, when you hear that encouragement, everything becomes better.
The most bossy among us don’t need praise for their work – they know what they’re doing well and get annoyed by condescending praise. The rest of us can confidently accomplish things we never thought we could if someone just praised our work every now and then.
