Meet The Raging Diva - Arabian Horse Association of Region 3

I was insecure; she was bold. I was awkward; she was graceful. I was tall and gawky; she
was a stocky thousand pounds of pure muscle. I was a twelve year old
girl;
she was the horse
of
my dreams. Diva was the epitome of the Arabian horse, from her erlegantly dishecl face to her
spirited disposition. She had sweet, intelligent eyes and large ears that swiveled inquisitively,
assessing the world around her.
Frorn the instant I met Diva, I knew that she was unlike an'/ other horse I had ridden. I
was accustomed to riding the typical school horse: the babysitter t)/pe with only a lbw goodnatured tricks up their sleeve. While these horses helped me learn the fundamentals of riding,
Diva pushed me out of my comfort zone and helped me to truly grow as a rider. She was the sort
of horse that demanded she be ridden with confidence. Diva had a knack of detecr,ing even the
slightest hint of f-ear or tension, f-eeding off of my emotions If I hesitated, she hesitated. If I was
not completely fbcused, her mind wandered away tiom the task at hand. If I was tense at the
canter. she sped into a gallop.
If I clutched
the reins, she pulled harder.
I soon realized that, if I
was going to ride this horse with any success, I needed to releasc- nry worries and anxieties.
'l'hrough months of riding Diva, I gained
confidence and courage in the saddle.
As time went on, Diva grew to be far more than just the horse I rode-she became my
best fiiend. I dreamed of someday buying her fbr my own, in the nreantime
living for my
cherished weekend lessons. Through my seemingly loneliest days cf middle school, Diva was
there to comfbrt me. a silent listener and confidant. With Diva, I did not have to v/orry about
finding the right thing to say, nor feel self--conscious of my appearance-I knew that she loved
me it.t spite of any possible shortcomings. I would go to her stall and bury my f-ace in her mane,
sirnply breathing in the soothing scent of horsehair and shavings. Sihe always stood
uncharacteristically quiet, seeming to know when all I needed was a hug. In those, few precious
moments, I felt at peace, any anxieties I carried melting away.
Diva influenced my life in a variety of ways. She taught me the importance of timing and
precision: If I gave any command too hard, too soft, or too quick, s;he was sure to let me know.
This teaching carried into other areas of my life as well: I began to understand
thaLt
in most taking
the tirne and efforl to achieve something successfully is far better than impulsive iaction. Diva
also imparted me with a strong dedication to improve. We began as a disjointed pair,
unconnected and unsure of how to communicate with one another. However" wittr months
of
practice and repetition, we became a unified team. The improvemernts I witnessed in my riding
abilities as a result of riding Diva inspired me; I realized I could ac,complish far rLore than I had
ever irnagined, all as the result of hard work and dedication.
When Diva and I were finally ready to show, I was excited to prove to others what I
knew we were capable
o1-.
I dreamed of blue ribbons, of hearing olr names called over the
loudspeaker. o1'f'eeling like I was a good rider. My naive antbitionr; were very sho,rtly humbled.
My nerves and the pressure I placed on myself to be victorious unraveled any fiber of peace in
Diva's being. I rernember hearing the soft chuckling ol bystanders at the ironic announcement of
Diva's show name-'tthe Raging
)ivn"-n5
we nervously pranced out of the arenia, her head
tossing in protest. Being in last place became customary. I f'elt frustrated with myr;elf as a rider.
Why couldn't I get mysel/'together? Why did Diva have to.fieak ot,:t every time we'entered
ct
class'/ What would it take.for us to./inally be success/ul'?
The answer came only after a local schooling show. We ha,J just come in last place in a
class. I was ultraveling the thick braid in Diva's mane, my thoughts largely a pers,onal pity parly.
Suddenly, Diva swiveled around her neck to look at me. She gingerly nibbled on raly hunt coat,
marking it with a smear of hay-green slobber. I suddenly realized,the shallowness of my
thoughts-l
was prioritizing winning over the bond between my h,rrS€ and I. Diva showed me
that, while winning is a wonderful achievement, it should by no means the objective of showing.
I came to iudge success at shows not by the color of the ribbons won, but by the prrogress made
and connection between horse and rider deepened.
One afternoon, I took my usual trek down the stable aisle to tack up Diva for our lesson. I
knew something was wrong from the moment I looked at her. Instt:ad of greeting me, she
remained stationary in her stall. Her neck, usually high and alert, r,3sted lower than her withers.
What happened afier that seems like a blur. After examining Diva, the vet gave her a sedative
and placed her under close observation. Diva
v,ill he./ine,l assureclmyself-. She's young, heulthy,
,slrong... She's u./ighler. I.f'any horse can recover, it's her. Knowing she was in the best care
possible, I stroked her velvety muzzle and promised that I would come visit her the next day.
Little did I know that would be my last "goodbye".
I distinctly remember the moment when I heard Diva had not made
was in pure denial . Diva can't be deatl. I must he dreaming. That's'
it through the night.
I
it; this is .just un uw/itl
nighlmure, und when I wuke up everything will be back to normal. When the truttr finally hit me,
it hit hard. I f'elt a severe tingling sensation throughout my body. Glancing at my hands through
tears, I noticed their intense trembling. She had so much lift, le./i to
liva
tife to shure... How,
coultl ,yhe leave me?
It has been three years since Diva's death, yet not a day
pasrses
when I do not think of her.
I now know that Diva was placed in my life fbr a reason: Looking back at my time spent with
her, I realizeiust how greatly she shaped the person I am today. As;an equestrian, Diva taught
me the importance of being calm in the saddle. She taught me hou, to fbel the horse underneath
me; to make riding a partnership rather than simply "sitting along for the ride". As a person, she
gave me a fierce detennirtation; an assurance that
I can achieve any goal I
set my mind to.
Furthermore, Diva instilled me with a love of all the complexities of the Arabian horse-from its
tender sensitivity to its lovely, proud spirit.
Though I swore there would never be room in my heart lbr another horse, with time
others have somehow fbund their way. Yet no matter how rnany h,rrses
rcrnember the
I ride, I w'ill always
little Arabian mare who transformed my weakness to strength, my hesitations to
conviction, and above all showed me the true meaning of unconditional love.

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