"You must in all Airs follow the strength, spirit and disposition of the horse, and do nothing against nature; for art is but to set nature in order, and nothing else." – William Cavendish, 1st Duke of Newcastle

When faced with an atmosphere that is poised and strict, it is easy to fall in line, thinking that this must be the way.

Such was the case when I first became enchanted with a particular barn. The aisle had nothing in it.

If you have ever wandered through a boarding facility, you understand how strange an empty aisle is. There were no blankets hung on the stall doors, not a bucket with some forgotten project in the corner. The whips hung on the wall, all of them the same matching, black, no-name brand. There wasn’t a cobweb or speck of dust in sight. The windows were all gazing with clear glass into the yard.

It was, in a very equine sense, perfectly “Feng Shui.”

It was the highest standard of a barn I had ever stood inside. The only thing it lacked was crystal chandeliers. And I felt with my entire being that I needed to take this atmosphere into my soul so that I could carry it with me to all future barns.

As they toured me through the aisle, I noticed how the floor of every stall was swept back a perfect 3 feet, without a single piece of bedding or hay in front of the line. Instead of name plates each stall had a small chalkboard under the feeding window, with each horse’s name written in white capital letters.

And the horses, they were a dream. Every hair stood in its place. One of them nickered to me as I went by the stall, she was a beautiful gray mare. Her eyes were large and glassy with pointy little ears.

“Every horse must look good enough to go to a show before they are ridden.” I was informed as they led me into the wash-stall. The shampoo and conditioner stood at attention on the shelf, new bottles in the back, bottles being used in the front. Purple shampoo for the grays, regular shampoo for the other horses.

“On non work days they must get hosed down if they come into the barn muddy, but you don’t have to apply soap if they aren’t being ridden.”

Of course, these farm animals who love the dirt must stay perfectly clean in such a place as this. You can’t come in here with any of the wild, everything will be smoothed, flattened and scrubbed.

“While we are talking about bathing, you are going to need to keep your hair pulled back from your face. When you ride, it must be pinned up or under your helmet, we don’t appreciate bouncing hair. You must wear a belt if your pants have belt loops and always tuck in your shirt.”

This wasn’t exactly my style of dressing, but I was ready to be as beautiful and shaped as this place.

I was entranced by the beauty of this high standard. I wanted to belong to it.

The tackroom was well lit. The washer and the sink stood arm and arm. The bridles hung on the back wall, perfectly oiled and ready for their next use. The smell of neatsfoot and boot polish hung in the air.

“We only use white saddle pads. We do not tolerate taking them off and discovering dirt on the underside. We also always wrap their legs in matching white polos.” I was led into the grooming stall, the polos stood in a perfect pile on the back of the shelf, rolled and ready to be used.

Hoof oil, hairspray for manes, detangler and oil for tails, rags and a vacuum. It stood organized so well that I might have sent a picture to a Martha Stewart magazine.

“Who will help me maintain 18 horses a day and a barn like this to this standard?” I asked naively.

“We will help you a little between horses, but we are the Grand Prix horse trainers. This is your job, if you want to become a professional in the industry you must be able to do this well.”

Chop wood, carry water. Got it.

I have proven to myself many times over the years that I can do anything I set my mind upon. I wasn’t about to be deterred by this, if the intern before me had been able to do it, I ought to as well.

I didn’t pause to consider that the intern before me had quit.

I knew I wanted to succeed. Grand Prix is the highest level in dressage; I wasn’t sure what the requirements for a First Level test might have been.

But if you must have the discipline to keep a barn like this, it must be extraordinarily difficult.

In that moment, I formed the goal while not entirely clear on what would be required of me: Grand Prix, at whatever cost.

It is a shame; I forgot to ask my horse.