Volunteers decorating the Centaur Stride barn for Christmas.

Our deepest desires can be hidden even from ourselves. How do any of us truly know what we want, what will bring us joy, or a sense of purpose?

I usually only recognized happiness after it brushed past me. And yet, one year ago, I was challenged to look back across the decades, chart my experiences, and mark each one on a happiness scale. What patterns shaped the landscape of my life? Why and when?

For me, expectations were always high, and disappointments rose to meet them. Marriage brought with it a shift. Decisions no longer belonged only to me. One setback blended into the next. I felt so overwhelmed with the responsibilities of life and no real choices. So, I learned, slowly and painfully, to try to manage my expectations, by redefining what counted as a true disappointment. “Change your thoughts, change your life,” they say. For me, a “good” day was simply one free of fresh disappointments. A great day held even a tiny spark of something good, a glimmer. I could usually find those glimmers in my children.

Bills piled endlessly, leaving little room for anything extra. Yard sales became my treasure hunts, moments of triumph when I found something better than what I had. Replacing the old with the yard-sale “new” felt like a celebration. (Yard sales still score high on my happiness chart!)

When I finally mapped my happiness over the last 50 years, I realized how few extravagant moments there were, but there were enough. Vacations, small adventures, simple pleasures. The ones that brought the most joy had very little cost. Value mattered.

So did the people I was with and whether the surroundings fed my senses. Beauty in nature, scenic views, a sense of awe, these were my sustenance. The activity itself came last.

There was a pattern. And in it, I finally could see what my heart had been quietly craving all along: a life that wasn’t controlled by material things. A life grounded in gratitude, awe, and trust in God’s intricate, intimate design. Looking back, even the trials, especially the trials, were simply nudges guiding me toward the right path. If only I wasn’t so stubborn!

Love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, gentleness, goodness, faithfulness, self-control, the undeniable longings of our souls. They form the compass that now makes sense of my laborious trials, subconsciously longing for these gifts.

And then there were the horses. I never really understood why they drew me in so powerfully.

In the grassroots building of Centaur Stride, I found everything my soul had been longing for: the quiet majesty and peace of nature, the grounding presence of horses and animals, the chance to help people who had disabilities, people who, without even meaning to, taught me profound lessons about unconditional love, strength, humility, and joy.

Purposeful living is rooted in connection, the kind built on integrity. Not a feeling, but a structure.

A horse moves through life responding only to what it perceives: pressure, energy, intention, boundaries. No social games, no hidden motives. Humans, on the other hand, are practiced in control (of others, not self), compliance, subtle manipulations, tactics we’ve absorbed without realizing. Horses feel all of it immediately. Working with them requires a different kind of relating: honest, unfiltered, free of masks. They mirror us, showing exactly how our inner state affects the connection we’re trying to build. And when that connection finally happens, clean, authentic, and mutual, it feels awesome.

This is what makes horses so deeply valuable. They insist on respect, on clarity, on boundaries honored by both sides. How we use our voice, our posture, our stillness, our speed, these shape their response. It is communication in its purest form. No force.

Connection with a horse is not a technique. It is a meeting of two beings, each with their own needs, seeking a relationship that nurtures both. And what is learned in the barn, around the horses, in those quiet moments of truth, those lessons subliminally carry into every human relationship we have.

Therapeutic riding is so much more than the benefits of riding. It is the rediscovery of integrity, presence, humility, and joy. They are the secret longing of the heart. Peace and acceptance for who we are, where we are, and with whom.

The horses and barn atmosphere offer incredible gifts of love, joy, peace, kindness, gentleness and goodness. The horses are patient and faithful and teach us so much. Self-control is always a work in progress.

We invite you to visit our center and explore the magnetic draw of the horses, a glimmer of light to the secret longings of your own heart. Call the barn at (716) 326-4318 to schedule a visit, a lesson for people with or without disabilities, or to volunteer.

Our annual Basket Raffle is today, Dec. 13 and Sunday at the Mayville Holiday Market at 2 Academy St., with the drawing at 1 pm on Sunday. Thank you for supporting our mission. Donations can be made online at linktr.ee/centaurstride or checks can be sent to Centaur Stride, Inc, PO Box 174, Westfield, NY 14787. Centaur Stride is a non-profit 501 c3. Donations are tax deductible.

Claudia Monroe is co-founder and President of Centaur Stride.