Hello and welcome.
Join me,
Sharon,
As I share some heartfelt moments with the horses on the hill.
I'm sitting on a wide flat stone in the top corner of a huge 60 acre field on the side of a hill along the ridgeway in Wiltshire.
I've just driven up a rough unmade road and walked a few yards through the woodland that borders the field.
There are three blue feed buckets set out about five meters apart,
Three happy horses making their way towards them.
A moment ago they were just tiny specks watching me as I carefully climbed over the fence and set everything out.
Now as I settle on the stone and watch their progress they start moving a little faster.
It's a steep climb to the top of the field and generally speaking it's Ruby,
The young Connemara,
Who gets to the bucket first.
But Zach,
The retired dressage horse and Diego,
The Andalusian,
Are never far behind.
They've each got a special treat today,
A topping of windfall apples.
It's been an incredible harvest this year.
As I sit here listening to them happily crunching and slobbering over the apples I get a feeling of utter contentment that life is just as it should be.
I know how fortunate I am to have this space and these magnificent animals in my life but I didn't always appreciate it.
I was often on fast-forward,
Stuck in my noisy head with a frantic to-do list running on a loop.
But here's the thing I've come to see and it took me far too many years and far too many headache-inducing lists to realise it.
This peace I feel up here on the hill,
It isn't coming from the view or the horses or the apples or the fact that I'm perched on a very respectable piece of Wiltshire stone pretending I'm in a nature documentary.
It's coming from me.
I used to think I needed a place like this to settle,
Somewhere quiet,
Somewhere beautiful,
Somewhere far away from the rest of life.
And yes,
It's lovely,
It's a gift and I'm not trading it in any time soon.
But the real shift happened when I realised that the quiet I feel here is the same quiet that's available when I'm stuck in traffic,
Or circling for a parking place,
Or the dogs are barking their heads off because a delivery man is at the front door just as I've started a Zoom call,
Or when I've dropped half my shopping while trying to find my car keys.
It's not the location that settles us,
It's the moment we stop arguing with our own thinking.
You don't actually need 60 acres,
Horses,
Or a hill with a gorgeous view.
You just need the willingness to pause,
Even for a heartbeat,
And notice that beneath all the noise there's something steady,
Something kind,
Something that hasn't gone anywhere.
And the lovely surprise is,
The moment you see that,
The world doesn't need to change for you to feel a bit of ease.
Whether you're on a hilltop in Wiltshire,
Or in the middle of the supermarket trying to remember what you came in for,
It's always there.
That's the insight I wanted to share today.
Your calm isn't out there,
It travels with you,
Whether you notice it or not.
Nevertheless,
I do hope you'll join me again on future visits with the horses on the hill.
