You know what I’d like to see change? The nonsense.
Every day I dare linger on social media – I usually post (after giving myself a 3 to 10 days long pep talk) and run away screaming – there’s someone who puts a lot of effort into their posts saying they can’t take the hate anymore, they need a break from the nastiness, they’re leaving social media altogether or that social media is the hardest, most draining part of their job.
Want to hear the truth? If it wasn’t for the great homes we find for the Mustangs we gentle at Wild Horse Outreach & Advocacy , the great folks we’ve met online and the belief that just maybe what we do with our Ambassador Mustangs can inspire some people to get out there and do fun things with their wildies too, I’d be living blissfully without socials.
Maybe I’d keep an anonymous account with a marmot for a profile picture so I could quietly follow the handful of brave souls whose work, photography and thoughts I admire most.
I love working with horses, I enjoy learning and I actually really like to teach. I don’t particularly enjoy people bashing each other, spewing their negativity and ignorance all over anything that doesn’t align with their movie-born fantasies, or the inevitable inappropriate or otherwise unhinged messages we/I get.
Why do people genuinely seeking knowledge have to start a post with “I’m looking for advice, not hate…”? What is this, middle school?
And what’s with normalizing death threats? When did we build a fast lane from “I disagree” to “you deserve to die”?
Don’t like something? Keep scrolling. Don’t agree with someone? Do it your way. Don’t want the horse? Get a different one. Don’t believe in hobbles? Don’t buy any.
How about live and let live? Look for what inspires you. Ask honest, respectful questions. Stop with the assumptions. Don’t be creepy and gross. Build each other up. Build community, not islands. And learn to tolerate different viewpoints and that ‘different’ doesn’t necessarily mean ‘wrong’.
Rant over.
Pretty pictures from a very soggy and super fun pack trip – also Rock’s first pack trip – last summer. Tay Martin and I were varying levels of disheveled for 3 days straight. Our boots never dried (yay for Ziploc bags keeping our feet mostly dry) and we still managed to have a ton of fun. There were hobbles, and moose and lightning strikes, some near misses that made for good stories afterwards and a few questionable decisions. A perfect trip in other words
