This last week, I was asked twice if Six Horse Ranch is a non-profit. It’s not. I spent the first portion of my career working with state-funded non-profits, I’m not knocking them. I’m also not discrediting that perhaps there is opportunity that should be explored there. But I want to be transparent: my businesses exist to make me money.

Just over a year ago, I turned my very small, very private, social media accounts into a public space of sharing. I’ve shared what my life looks like owning a horse ranch. I’ve shared about starting my own business and quitting my corporate job. I’ve shared about my health challenges, wins, and overall generally chaotic thoughts and mishaps. 

But I still get asked how all of these things come together quite often. 

But unfortunately, I have no fucking clue how they come together. 

Almost two months ago I left my corporate healthcare job to pursue opportunities of self-employment and self-discovery. As I cleared my desk and said my goodbyes to my coworkers, I kept repeating the honest truth about what was next for me: "I have the next two months or so figured out, and then I don't know what comes next."

Well. Those two months are almost up. And that assessment was accurate.

I left my full-time job a month ago and ever since then I’ve felt like a firmly have one hand on the steering wheel while the other hand is sticking out of the window trying to grab on to the next thing at high speed…its unnerving. And exciting. And exhausting.

Some people dream about corner offices. But I dream about wide open spaces.

I'm trying to navigate feeling joy when the world feels like it's on fire...and horses are at the center of that.

This year I turned 30. Which means that I have now been riding the mountain trails of Idaho for 20 years; conveniently marked by my 10th birthday when we moved from a traditional boarding barn to an 800 acre wild-scape horse barn on the outskirts of the Boise foothills. Over 20 years I’ve ridden dozens of horses for thousands of trail miles. An accidental cache of experience earned by simply loving something long enough.

Lunar new year doesn’t usually hold significance to me. But this year, in so many ways, has been different. 

Growing up in the West, it’s easy to see the mountains, rivers, and wide open spaces as markers of time itself.

I'm Emily, a rancher from Idaho who's trying to use my voice against hate and violence, run a business, maintain a second job, be a wife, take care of animals and generally try to survive it all.

In four weeks, I’ll be 30. An age I’ve thought a lot about in my 29.99 years of life. An age that for as long as I can remember, I thought would finally “fit me”.

I will always say I wish I found you earlier Chaps (my mid-twenty-something pinto). Earning Chap’s trust is a daily challenge I’ll spend the rest of his life working through.

This summer I went horse camping with my dad and he made an observation that’s stuck with me. While talking about the ranch and how I’m doing managing it all, he said he knew I was never lonely because I’m constantly surrounded by all of my friends. In the conversation I knew he meant the animals.

I wish we had words for the way that horses can make us feel whole. But if you’ve ever had the pleasure of connecting with a horse, or can escape for a long trail ride, you know that the feeling stretches beyond rhyme, reason, spirit, or soul.