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About This Author
My name is Joy, and I love to write.
Why poetry, here? Because poetry uplifts its writer, and if she is lucky enough, her readers, too. Around us, so many objects abound to write about. Once a poet starts with a smallest, most trivial object, he shall discover that his pen will spill out what is most delicate or most majestic hidden inside him. Since the classics sometimes dealt with lofty subjects with a lofty language, a person with poetry in his soul may incline to emulate that. That is understandable. Poetry does that to a person: it enlarges the soul and gives it wings. Yet, to really soar, a poet needs to take off from the ground.
 
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Daily Cascade #1105096 added January 4, 2026 at 3:00pm
Restrictions: None
John Wayne Said it!
Prompt:
"Courage is being scared to death, but saddling up anyway."
John Wayne
What do you think this quote means and have you every taken on something that you were scared to do?
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At twelve years of age, I had an experience that would fit this quote well and its "saddling up," literally. At the time, I was being raised by an over-protective mother and, worse yet, I was her only child.
On an occasion, my cousins, all seven of them, came to visit and wanted me to go with them to a local fair. Surprisingly, my mother who would never let me out alone without an adult chaperon, agreed, since one of my cousins was 19 at the time, and he promised he'd keep an eye on all of us.
Yet, when we got there, he saw a few friends of his and wanted to hang out with them and told us to go have fun by ourselves. At the side of the fair, adjacent to it, but not inside it, there were horse rides on a vast open field. Watching people on those horses was exciting. So we neared that place where two men, ride-handlers I suppose, put the would-be riders on the horses for a small fee.
Up to that time, I had never been near a horse, let alone ride it. So I stood back, but my cousins egged me on, and I didn't want the word chicken attached to me for as long as we all lived. Next, I found myself sitting on a big horse, holding on to its rein. One of the handlers led us out of the starting point into the open field. But, as soon as he left me and the poor horse alone, I must have felt a terror in my every bone. So in fright, I must have begun pulling the reins and squeezing my legs against the belly of the horse. Later, I learned this is what you do if you want the horse to run. So from its gentle trot, the horse took to running, and through fear or maybe sixth sense, I leaned toward its neck clinging to it, and almost laid flat on the horse. I heard someone say, "Look at this kid. She knows how!"
Also, I heard another person yell, "Relax your legs!". I don't know who said that but I'm forever grateful for that tip and that wise person who must have seen my fear. By the time, we returned to the starting point, the horse had calmed down to an easy trot, and nobody, starting with my cousins, ever believed I hadn't taken any lessons or wasn't on a horse before.
It is a miracle I didn't fall off that horse! I still wonder about that. Although, that horse and I didn't jump fences or anything, given my ineptitude, my daring must have become my teacher, in some way. Furthermore. the real miracle was that I rode anyway, despite the terror in me. So I feel I have to honor that terror and that rough ride and that big horse which wasn't ferocious at all like I had feared at first. Better yet, that experience taught me that motion is the antidote to fear and paralysis.
Accordingly, through my long life, after that scary ride, I made a conscious choice to face fear, to give it its due, but then, to harness it, or else life and circumstances can trample me. What I mean is, fear is not a villain, and the rider who refuses the saddle is the loser who cannot experience anything beyond that of ease and comfort.
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