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The Lady's Paths (1)
High in a warm, forested region, between hills of red earth and paths smelling of eucalyptus and corn, lies the village of Cañada Serena. At first glance, it's a place like any other: quiet plazas, cobblestone streets, birds singing in the morning, and dogs napping in the shade. But those who stay more than a day begin to notice something peculiar. It's not the architecture or the food, but the way they walk. Here, the ladies don't always walk alone. She rides on horseback.
The tradition is ancient, although no one remembers exactly when it began. Some elders say it was a children's game, when girls would climb onto boys' shoulders to cross puddles after the rains. Others say it was inspired by old ritual dances where the woman represented the guide of the home and the man, its strength. Whatever its origin, in Cañada Serena it has become a well-established custom.
In public spaces—plazas, fairs, community offices—it is common to see girls, young ladies, women, or elderly women riding on the shoulders of their husbands, brothers, suitors, friends, or sons. They do so naturally and elegantly. They often wear special outfits: tight pants, blouses made of heavy fabrics, high-heeled knee-high boots, sunglasses, and wide-brimmed hats. The man who carries them, on the other hand, presents himself simply but with preparation: knee pads, a padded saddle strapped to the shoulders, with stirrups, a bit, a bridle, and reins to facilitate balance and steering.
Beyond the town, on the roads that connect it to other communities, the lady travels with several companions. On the backs of their human horses, they travel long distances, rotating the horses between them every few miles. While one recovers, another kneels to welcome his rider. They do so without complaint, with an air of pride. They say that being a lady's mount is a symbol of trust and respect.
In the homes, however, the practice becomes more intimate, almost ceremonial. The man places himself on all fours on the dirt floor or woven mats, and the lady rides him with a serene expression. There is no rush or display, but rather a kind of ritual game where bonds are strengthened and community order is represented. The youngest learn this as children, playing with sisters, aunts, or neighbors in the courtyards. And as they grow up, they assume the role as naturally as others learn to sow or sing.
For outsiders, the first impression can be disconcerting. But they soon understand that it is not about submission, but a different logic. Here, body and gesture are language. The lady directs, but does not humiliate. The man carries the burden, but is not a slave. There is pride on both sides. And in the midst of it all, a community that, in its own way, has found balance between strength and beauty, between play and respect.
Cañada Serena doesn't want the world to imitate it. Only to understand it. And if one day they travel its red roads, do so with open eyes and silent judgment.
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The Ways of the Lady (2)
Everything begins in childhood.
In the sun-drenched courtyards of Cañada Serena, where the red dust rises amid laughter and running, girls play at being jockeys and boys play at being horses. They don't need much: just a handkerchief tied as a rein, a twig as a whip, and an imagination fired by the stories they heard from their mothers and grandmothers. The game always begins the same way: the boy lowers his gaze, rests on his hands and knees on the warm ground, and waits. The girl, with her head held high and her arms outstretched, sits astride his back. Sometimes she laughs; sometimes she already rehearses the serious and serene expression that ladies will have when they grow up.
That first contact—the weight, the direction, the playful obedience—is the beginning of everything. There is no mockery or punishment, only an unspoken agreement: you will be my mount and I will guide you. In this act of surrender and play, the roles that will accompany them into adulthood are forged.
And as in Cañada Serena, every serious game is the seed of habit, the years do not dissolve tradition. On the contrary, they reaffirm it.
By the time the children become adolescents, they already understand the importance of the gesture. The ladies have learned to walk upright, to ride elegantly, to use the reins as if they were directing a destiny rather than a body. The boys, for their part, train their endurance, balance, and disposition. Being ridden is not humiliation: it is a show of strength channeled into the dignity of service. Not everyone is ready to bear a lady. Only the steadiest, the most constant, the most devoted.
During festivities, it is common to see young ladies astride their grown playmates. The men carry a leather saddle woven by their own families, and a bridle with reins adorned with flowers to honor the rider they ride. Their straight backs become living paths for the ladies, and with each quadrupedal step, the people reaffirm their symbolic balance: the feminine up high, the masculine as the foundation.
And the elders are not left out. If an adult lady wishes to ride, there will always be a husband, brother, nephew, or even a childhood friend willing to kneel before her and offer his back. In homes, at festivals, or even at rites of passage, the scene is repeated: the man respectfully rises on all fours, and the lady sits resolutely. What began in childhood as an innocent game becomes a custom that passes through generations as naturally as trades and songs are inherited.
This is how Cañada Serena lives: amidst firm steps and human mounts, amidst living traditions that don't need to be written down to be sacred. The entire town, in its distinctive way of walking, teaches that there is nothing ridiculous about the body at the service of respect, nor about play when it becomes a ritual. Here, riding and being ridden is more than a physical act: it is a way of recognizing one another in their roles, in their history, and in the harmony that sustains them.
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Stages of Four-Legged Horse Riders
• In the early learning stage (approximately 5–6 years old), girls begin with simple games, riding their similarly aged peers in the yard or at school. There is no full equipment yet: they ride astride children on all fours, using only a handkerchief or rope as an improvised rein. This is the time of imitation and play, where the first seeds of the rider role are sown.
The horses are children their own age (little brothers, cousins, neighborhood friends). In spontaneous games, without equipment, the boys accept with enthusiasm and curiosity, and often take turns. The purpose is for the horses to learn to support a rider safely, all in a playful and safe environment.
• In the guided transition stage (7–9 years old), many girls begin to sit on small, padded saddles for greater stability on their "horses," who are usually boys of the same age or young relatives. They also begin to practice with soft reins, always under the supervision of an adult lady or older sister. The figure of the "mentor" is introduced, who guides the girl in her seating, steering, speaking, and maintaining her bearing.
The horses are males of the same age or slightly older (up to 10–11 years old), usually close relatives (cousins, older brothers). A little more endurance is sought, and the horses begin to obey simple commands (move forward, stop), as the lady becomes accustomed to balance and control, and the boy to being directed.
• During the formal training stage (10–12 years old), some families or lineages within the village introduce the complete, lightweight version of equipment: handmade saddles with low stirrups, decorative bridles with comfortable bits, and a small whip used more as a gesture than a tool. Girls learn precise reining skills and how to gracefully apply spurs if necessary (although in many cases these are used only as part of the ceremonial attire). The "horses" may be slightly older boys or adult male volunteers from the family circle.
The horses are adolescent males (12–15 years old) or even young adults. Out of respect for the lady's safety and so that her body can learn to accommodate a more substantial mount, a saddle, bridle, and reins are already provided. The horses are instructed in maintaining position, bearing weight, and obeying signals, so the rider becomes familiar with the full equipment and the art of leading a human horse.
• At the full cavalcade stage (from age 13 onward), the lady can ride saddled human horses, confidently step into stirrups, and ride with full authority, even on public roads and longer courses. At this point, she is considered to have reached symbolic maturity as a rider. It may participate in festivals, inter-village journeys, and formal events. The reins, whip, and spurs are already part of the official attire and are used with awareness and respect for tradition.
The horses are adult males (young or mature), already trained, often experienced volunteers or devoted relatives. The lady chooses from several horses to form her personal rotating riding team—a father, uncle, cousin, suitor, or husband—to participate in public ceremonies, long rides, processions, and festivals. The horse is considered a reflection of the rider's authority and dominance.
Adult and older men (fathers, uncles, grandfathers, teachers, trainers, husbands) take on the role of human horses in the following ways:
• Ceremonial and devotional: Some are offered as a sign of respect and devotion, especially at important public or family events. This is interpreted as a gesture of honor and loyalty to the lady they ride. • Formative: Trainers or older relatives may allow younger women in training to ride them, helping them learn safely.
• Voluntary and symbolic: In homes or at private celebrations, many mature men proudly accept the role, considering "being ridden" by a woman a sign of affection, obedience, and bonding.
When an older man offers himself as a horse, he demonstrates humility, respect, and devotion to the woman (regardless of her age). When he is ridden by a younger woman, it symbolizes a gift of guidance, support for her leadership, or an offering of voluntary and loving service.
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Stages of Four-Legged Horses
For boys, the stages are:
• The Play and Discovery Stage (5–6 years old): Children spontaneously ride on all fours, almost always as part of group games in school or family playgrounds. There is no structure or formality yet. The child feels the experience of the rider's weight naturally. They learn, without knowing it, about balance, support, and the importance of holding on. There are no reins or saddle yet. The rider sits on their back or leans gently on them.
The riders are girls of the same age, usually sisters, cousins, or playmates. Riding is done without equipment; the rider rides for a few minutes. Here, everything is learned through play.
• The Imitation and Endurance Stage (7–9 years old): The child already recognizes their role in the game and begins to develop physical endurance. They practice maintaining the quadruped position for longer periods of time, better supporting the rider's weight and commands. Some begin to use cushions or pillows as saddles. Here, they also learn to obey simple verbal cues and respond to gentle tugs on a rope or scarf. This is the stage where obedience becomes virtue and endurance becomes honor.
The riders are slightly older girls (8–10 years old) or their peers in the process of transition. They begin to use light objects such as cloth reins or scarves. The girl practices maintaining posture while the boy practices weight bearing. Sometimes an older sister or teenage cousin may also take on the role of trainer rider, riding the boy to help him develop strength and obedience.
• Formal Preparation Stage (10–12 years old), the boy begins conscious training. He learns to position himself correctly on all fours, distribute his weight, and strengthen his back and thighs to provide a firm and secure ride.
This is where real but lightweight items are introduced: a soft bridle, a small padded saddle, and cloth reins.
He begins to respond to instructions given with touches of the whip or pressure from the rider's thighs. This is also when he receives his first lessons in dignity in surrender: knowing how to hold his horse with pride, without humiliation.
Female riders are adolescent women (13–15 years old) who are already in training. They use real, light equipment (small saddle, soft reins), can correct posture, demand discipline, and use their voices to give clear commands. Occasionally, mothers or aunts ride briefly for symbolic, ceremonial, or training purposes.
• In the Full Mount stage (from age 13 onward), the male horse is now considered a fully formed human horse. He is saddled with a traditional saddle with a bit and reins, bridled with a functional bit, and ridden by young or adult women who guide him with full use of reins, whip, and spur. He is required to obey without question, maintain posture for long distances, and alternate between rest and service. They participate in processions, marches, and public ceremonies.
Men are proud to reach this stage, not out of submission, but because being the chosen mount of a lady is seen as a symbol of confidence and personal worth. Some even prepare further, honing their strength, breathing control, and tolerance to become "cross-country steeds," suitable for long journeys between villages.
Juniors are young women or fully trained adults (13 years and older). They can be: girlfriends or suitors, older sisters, cousins, respected professionals (teachers, trainers), wives (in the case of marriage), etc. They ride safely using the saddle, stirrups, reins, whip, and spurs. They may rotate horses or have a dedicated one; they are masters of their own pace and their mount. Riding is for long rides, parade rides, and public displays. Men serve with respect, obedience, and firmness.
Adult women (mothers, aunts, teachers, community leaders) assume the role of riders with authority and elegance:
• Mentors and trainers: They ride young men to instruct them in discipline, balance, obedience, and endurance. They also train younger women by observing and correcting their riding techniques.
• Ceremonial: In parades, festivals, or public events, older women ride men as a sign of status, dignity, and leadership.
• Domestic and familial: In the home, some mothers briefly ride their sons or husbands during games, teaching, or as a symbolic gesture of emotional leadership.
When an older woman presents herself as a rider, she reflects wisdom, authority, and guidance. When she rides with dignity, she displays maternal authority, mastery, and wise dominion.
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Stages of Riding for Female Riders and Two-Legged Horses
The act of riding on shoulders is a gesture that in many cultures represents honor, leadership, affection, and ritualized play.
In the case of female riders who ride on shoulders:
• Initial Stage – Play (Childhood)
From 5 to 8 years old, the girl is lifted by a brother or cousin, usually on the shoulders or back (horse), with no implements or very basic ones (a rope simulating a rein). Her horses are brothers, cousins, or friends.
• Transition Stage – First Mastery (Preadolescence)
From 9 to 12 years old, the girl begins to lead the boy; the first verbal instructions and light use of reins are introduced. Implements such as a headband or simple reins are used, sometimes a small whip. Her horses are younger or trusted men (brothers, companions), as well as docile or admiring men, such as teachers.
• Full Training Stage – Technique and Confidence (Adolescence)
From 13 to 16 years old, she rides shoulder-mounted in public or private, has already mastered the use of reins and begins riding under saddle. The equipment includes: a light saddle, a full bridle and reins, and a royal whip. Her horses are adolescent males who accept this role as part of cultural symbolism, as well as voluntary or formal horses, such as teachers.
• Complete Stage – Established Rider
From 17 years old and older, she rides with elegance and mastery; she uses a saddle with stirrups, reins, spurs, and a whip. Her horse's equipment is complete according to the level of the event (saddle with stirrups, bridle with bit, whip, and spurs). Her horses are males of all ages, trained or devoted. She rides for her peers, elders, husbands, teachers, relatives, or adult males who offer themselves with respect.
For boys, who are ridden on shoulders:
• Play Stage – Simple Pony
From 6 to 9 years old, they briefly carry their friends or sisters for play, without any implements; their bond is playful, unstructured; free "pony" play, without accessories, in private spaces.
• Service Stage – First Support
From 10 to 13 years old, they offer to carry young women for short stretches or at celebrations; they carry a simple leash or decorative rein. Their riders are sisters, cousins, older or same-age friends; their bond is agreed upon with affection or enthusiasm, under adult supervision; basic coordination begins.
• Preparation Stage – Training
From 14 to 16 years old, they train to maintain a firm posture and symbolic obedience, accept a bridle or light bit, and their implements include: a bridle, basic saddle, and functional reins. Their riders are young adolescent ladies in training or at the beginning stage of riding, and indulgent adult ladies, such as teacher ladies. Their bond is participation in symbolic rides or more structured games; reins and a light saddle are used.
• Full Commitment Stage – Consecrated Horse
From 17 years and older, they are ridden shoulder-to-shoulder or quadruped with total commitment, responding to reins, spurs, and whip. Their implements are: a bridle with a bit, a saddle with stirrups, reins, whip, and indicative spurs. Their riders are consecrated riders (elder ladies, chiefs, village leaders), like teacher ladies. Their bond is a ceremonial or ritual relationship. They are ridden in public, with full use of implements, guided by tradition.
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The Horsewoman
Diana is 21 years old and has become one of the most admired figures in her town. She is recognized in her community for her elegant presence and firm composure. The daughter of an ancient ceremonial horsewoman, she has been trained since her adolescence in traditions that celebrate the connection between leadership, respect, and symbolism. With her majestic bearing and clear gaze, she embodies the balance between beauty and authority, and when she rides through the plazas on shoulders or in ceremonial parades, everyone recognizes in her the living heritage of the older horsewomen.
Tall, slender, and upright, her presence does not go unnoticed: she walks confidently, her voice is serene and firm, and her gaze—intense and wise—reflects maturity and determination, as if she carries in her eyes the memory of generations of horsewomen before her.
Her skin is golden, tanned by the morning sun that always sees her emerge. Her long, wavy hair cascades down her back, sometimes gathered in a high ponytail that sways elegantly as she rides.
She carefully chooses her riding companions—always with dignity, never with contempt—and honors them by naming them for their qualities: strength, perseverance, loyalty. She teaches each one that being a mount is not humiliation, but service within an agreed and traditional order.
When she participates in ceremonial rides or traditional events, Diana wears her riding attire, carefully and thoughtfully crafted by the expert hands of the senior ladies:
• A wide-brimmed, dark wine-colored hat adorned with a braided leather band that symbolizes her time as a dedicated rider.
• Sunglasses conceal her divine eyes.
• A white linen blouse, fitted to the torso, with a high collar and pearly buttons. The symbol of her lineage is embroidered on the cuff: an eight-pointed star.
• A dark brown leather corset, which highlights her upright posture and distinguishes her as a lady of firmness and dominance.
• Sand-colored riding breeches, tight-fitting but comfortable, designed to maintain stability and grace during long journeys.
• Tall black leather boots with soft heels and gleaming metal stirrups. Golden spurs hang from her heels, a symbol of respect and authority.
• A wide belt, from which hangs a small ceremonial whip, not to impose, but to set the pace.
• Dark, fingerless riding gloves, so she has complete control of her mount's reins.
When Diana rides, she does so with dignity. There is no violence or imposition: there is harmony, trust, and a deep respect between rider and mount. Her mounts serve her not out of obligation, but in recognition of her serene leadership, her just character, and the beauty of her gait.
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A Traditional Horseback Ride
It was a clear, festive day in the village. The bells rang softly from the church tower, announcing the start of the traditional monthly events that brought the community together in the central plaza. The streets were adorned with garlands of leaves, fresh flowers, and colorful ribbons that danced in the breeze.
Diana, dressed in her riding habit, a wide-brimmed hat, sunglasses, a white top showing off her generous breasts and slim waist, which contrasted with her wide hips and prominent buttocks, blue jean shorts showing off her beautiful and beloved thighs, and high-heeled brown knee-high boots, emerged from the main portico accompanied by other young and older ladies. As she passed, families respectfully moved aside, leaving the stone path leading to the plaza clear.
In the center of the street, the knights assigned for the ride were already waiting. Each of them, dressed in light tunics and chest bands indicating their ceremonial role, had been prepared for the honor of being ridden by a lady on her shoulders. For many, it was a privilege that implied strength, patience, and reverence.
Diana strode confidently toward her lead horse, a man in his sixties, almost seventy, with a serene face, knees slightly bent, and shoulders firm. Without words, and without difficulty because he reached the height of her breasts, she placed a hand on his head in acceptance.
Then she smilingly inserted the bit into his open mouth, pushing it in with her slender, delicate, and adoring fingers. She tied the bridle straps, placed the saddle on his shoulders, cinched it, and adjusted the stirrup straps.
With a practiced gesture, he dismounted, and she, holding on elegantly, rode smoothly onto his shoulders, remaining upright, sitting on the saddle, her legs on either side of his torso. She stepped into the stirrups, her heels and spurs firmly against his chest and his back.
Now mounted, she took the reins and inserted them into the bridle. They were not meant to steer with force, but to mark the cadence of the gait. She held the reins with one hand, and the whip with the other, which she occasionally touched in the air or on the horse's shoulder, signaling the rhythm.
The ride began.
From the main street, the female riders on shoulders advanced in a leisurely procession. Diana, at the head, kept her gaze ahead, majestic, as a guide. As they passed, the children waved in admiration, and the elders nodded proudly, recognizing in this scene the continuity of an ancient custom: the balance between the strength offered and the dignity carried.
The men on horseback remained attentive, obeying every signal from the spurs, the reins, the whip, or the gentle voice of their rider. When a horse needed to rest, the lady gracefully dismounted, and another took over with equal respect, after being bridled and saddled by her.
The journey lasted about an hour, crossing the square, surrounding the willow garden, and concluding in front of the main tree, where the ladies dismounted and the bearers bowed briefly in closing.
Diana dismounted naturally. She turned, smiled at her bearer, and placed a brief hand on his shoulder as a gesture of gratitude.
It wasn't about dominance or submission, but rather an ancient body language, shared and understood by all: she led, he held. She represented balance, he, willing surrender.
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Mother and Daughter: Riders Together
In one of the most anticipated ceremonies of the festive calendar—the New Moon Procession—an image appeared that moved the entire town: Diana riding on shoulders alongside her mother, Elena, both standing upright, side by side, like reflections in time.
Elena, a lady of serene strength and profound gaze, was recognized as one of the founding riders of the ceremony. Her noble bearing and her manner of leading were the model that many young women, including Diana, had followed since childhood. Although the years had left soft lines on her face, her posture was firm, her boots and spurs still resonated with authority, and she gripped the reins with skill.
That day, both wore similar outfits but with details that marked their generation:
Elena wore a dark hat with a wider brim, embroidered with silver. Her blouse was ivory linen with gold thread trim, and her aged leather corset spoke of decades of tradition.
Diana, at her side, displayed the most modern design of the era: bright colors, elegant lines, and the youthful glow that distinguished her.
Riding the shoulders of their respective horses—both trusted males, carefully trained—mother and daughter advanced together in the procession, holding their reins with precision, keeping their heads high and their eyes straight ahead.
As they advanced along the avenue of laurels, the other riders formed lines behind them, as a sign of respect. Whispers and smiles could be heard among the community: “There go Elena and Diana… Past and present, mother and daughter… strength and flower…”
The horses, conscious of the honor they carried, marched in sync. Each horse, with its bit and bridle tightly adjusted by its rider, followed the gentle instructions of the ladies, who marked the pace with spurs—not to injure, but to guide gently—and with the whip that outlined the rhythm of their gait.
When the procession reached the Mirador de las Estrellas, mother and daughter dismounted as one. The two riders walked side by side, laughing softly, while the horses, now standing, formed a silent circle, a solemn setting for the scene.
It was a moment etched in the collective memory: the continuity of tradition, the bond of respect between generations, and the shared dignity between the one who leads and the one who supports.
The procession had ended. The night breeze cooled the plaza, and a few candles still lit on the stone altars. Under the large laurel tree at the mirador, Diana and Elena sat together, still in their ceremonial attire.
"Do you remember your first time?" Elena asked with a soft smile, as she undid the leather gloves she was still wearing.
Diana nodded.
"Of course I do, Mom... I was thirteen. You took me to the preparation room the previous evening. My hands were shaking when you gave me the reins."
Elena laughed tenderly.
"And I told you they weren't meant to be controlled with force... but to be trusted. That the man who rides you must be prepared, yes, but also willing. That you don't dominate, you lead with respect."
"And you taught me to look ahead... not down," Diana added. "A rider doesn't need to watch every step. Her gaze is what inspires the path," you said. It stuck with me."
Elena stroked a leaf from the tree with her fingertips.
"You also had a hard time trusting your first horse. Remember Matías?"
Diana smiled.
"Yes... he was tall, strong... but he was more nervous than me. With every step, I felt him holding back. You spoke to him afterward."
"I told him he didn't have to prove anything. Just offer his strength calmly. That you were light, but carried a symbolic weight. And he, as a horse, had the honor of holding it."
They were silent for a few moments, reminiscing.
"And how was your preparation?" Diana asked curiously. "Before my time."
"It was harder," Elena replied. "We didn't have as many safe spaces or gentle words. I learned from my mother. She made me walk for days with my boots on, over uneven stone, so I knew how to keep my balance. She taught me to recognize when a carrier falters, and when to allow them to take over, without violating the dignity of either of them."
"And the boys?" Diana asked thoughtfully. "How did they prepare?"
"In the workshops at the horse circle. They learn from a young age to know their bodies, to offer their shoulders firmly, to understand that the act of carrying doesn't lower them, but rather elevates them through their dedication. They practice firm steps, measured breathing. And, above all, the art of listening without words."
Diana rested her head on her mother's shoulder.
"I'm glad you were by my side during my first times, Mom."
"And I'll always be by your side," Elena replied, kissing her forehead. "Even if the day comes when you're the one who teaches another, like I did with you."
Meanwhile, their boots were kissed by their horses.
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Memories
Diana looked up at the sky, where the moon was barely peeking through the clouds. Her eyes moistened with a glimmer of nostalgia.
She sighed deeply and said softly:
"I was thirteen, I was young..."
Elena looked at her out of the corner of her eye, with that mixture of tenderness and firmness that only a mother who has lived the same path can possess. Then she answered, without hesitation, in a voice that contained centuries of tradition and love:
"But you were already a woman, tall, beautiful, with a dominant bearing that highlighted your breasts, waist, buttocks, hips, and thighs. You were already a Goddess, like me."
Diana turned her head toward her. It wasn't just a phrase. It was a truth that had always been there, but that she could only now feel in its full meaning.
"Do you really believe that?" she whispered.
"It's not about believing," Elena replied, gently taking her hand. "It's about recognizing." That day, when you climbed onto my shoulders, when you took the reins for the first time… you were no longer just my daughter. You were part of the lineage, of the strength that sustains this community. And everyone saw it.
Diana lowered her gaze. She tightened the ceremonial reins that still hung from her belt.
"And yet… I still feel like I'm learning."
"And you always will be," Elena said with a smile. "Because being a Goddess isn't about being perfect. It's about being aware of your power, and using it wisely."
The two of them stood there for a while longer, in silence, under the laurel and the moon. Between generations, between symbols, between words that don't need to be repeated to be eternal.
Diana stroked the clasp of her cloak, her gaze lost on the horizon. The light from the torches in the plaza was beginning to fade, but the fire in her memory remained alive.
“This was my first ride in a public ceremony,” she said softly, almost like someone confessing, “but… I'd already done it before. You prepared me.”
Elena smiled with a mixture of pride and melancholy. She nodded slowly, remembering those moments.
“Yes… in the courtyard of our house, among the orange trees. The first times were in silence. I taught you to ride with balance, to keep your gaze high, not to hold on in fear… but to trust your center.”
“And in them, in the men who were our horses,” Diana added. “You taught me to read their steps, their breathing. You told me: ‘when your horse breathes slowly, you can fly.’”
“Because that's how it is,” Elena affirmed. “A rider doesn't dominate… she tunes in. And you already had that sensitivity, since you were little. That's why I knew you were ready, even before you believed it.”
“But it wasn't just technique,” Diana continued. “You taught me to prepare myself from within.” To know what that act means. To understand that riding in public is not a game, but a language, a symbol.
Elena took her daughter's hands in hers.
"And you honored him. Tonight... everyone saw him. You didn't just ride. You sustained the ceremony with your presence."
Diana took a deep breath.
"Thank you for being there. For guiding me with your hands, with your words... and with your example."
"And thank you," Elena whispered, "for walking by my side, for continuing the path. Now you are the one who will lead others... as we did."
The temple bells rang the hour. The two women stood. The ceremony was over, but the cycle had only just begun.
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The Continuation of the Cavalcade
The bells were still ringing softly when Diana and Elena stood. Without needing words, they exchanged a look of understanding. It was time.
From the edges of the plaza, the assigned men were already waiting in position: firm, respectful, bridled and isolated, their shoulders ready and their spirits ready. They had been prepared since the day before, aware of the honor of carrying aloft these two figures so admired by the people.
With grace and solemnity, Elena was the first to mount. Her black boots of tight leather shone in the torchlight, and the long skirt of her ceremonial dress fluttered gently as it rose over her horse's shoulders. Her wine-colored cape, edged with gold, fluttered like an ancient banner.
Diana followed her. Her bearing was upright, determined, yet still charged with that sacred awe that comes with youth. She mounted with the confidence that only comes after many days of learning. She took her horse's reins and adjusted them delicately, like someone caressing an ancient story.
And then they rode.
The mother and daughter, riders side by side, advanced along the central cobblestones of the plaza. The people on either side bowed their heads in respect, some murmured prayers, others simply watched in silence. It was a procession without drums or fanfare, but charged with an invisible power.
Diana, from her height, felt the firm step of the human horse beneath her. His shoulders were broad, his neck held proudly. He was familiar; one of those who had accompanied her in her first practices. She recognized him, and without even turning, she knew he recognized her too. She gently tightened the reins, not to guide, but to affirm the connection.
"We're ready," Elena whispered without turning around.
"Yes," Diana replied. And we are together.
They advanced toward the edge of the plaza, where the dirt path that encircled the village began. There, in the dimness of the trees, they would dissolve into the night like two mythical figures, borne by their faithful horses, weavers of the destiny of their community.
The procession continued in silence, but as the two ladies rode, their voices rose softly, marking the beginning of a conversation between them, a moment of shared complicity. As they advanced along the tree-lined path, the torches receded and the shadows lengthened, but the warmth of their conversation still illuminated the air.
Diana, staring ahead, her eyes fixed on the dark path before them, let out a light laugh, laced with uncertainty.
"The priest is new... What will he say?" she asked, her tone gentle but laced with curiosity.
Elena, as always, seemed to not miss a single detail of the situation, maintaining her composure with a serenity that only time could have granted her.
"He's young. Inexperienced," Elena said, with a slight smile that held a hint of irony. "He still doesn't know what this town means. What may seem strange or... inappropriate to him is sacred to us. Time will teach him."
Diana nodded with a thoughtful look, feeling the weight of those words. She knew her mother was right. The traditions of her town weren't something that could be understood overnight. The priest might judge, might question, but in the end, the community would follow its course.
"And if he objects?" Diana said, a hint of doubt in her voice.
Elena looked at her lovingly and answered without hesitation.
"Then we will speak to him, daughter." Elena smiled gently, as if she had already anticipated everything. "We will explain our history to him, show him how our customs have brought balance and strength to this land." Not everything has to be understood by the mind. Sometimes, only the heart can comprehend what lies beyond words.
Diana looked at her with respect and gratitude. Time had taught her mother to be patient, to know the cycles of the people, to understand that old traditions were not imposed by force, but by example, by experience, by the accumulated wisdom of generations.
"The heart..." Diana repeated, absorbing each word.
They both continued on their way, now closer to the entrance to the path that connected with other villages. In that shared silence, they understood that what truly mattered was not the judgment of a single man, but that of an entire community that had witnessed and participated in these rituals for centuries.
"In the end, the people know what is true," Elena added, her tone firm and resonant, echoing in the night air.
Diana, her gaze still fixed on the path ahead, nodded once more. She was ready to face any challenge, and she knew that with her mother by her side, she would always find the strength to stand up for what was rightfully hers.
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The Blessing
At dawn, the first rays of the sun painted the outline of the hills surrounding the village gold. The dew still rested on the leaves, and the birdsong announced the arrival of a new day. Diana and Elena returned slowly along the same path that had seen them depart hours before, still raised on the shoulders of their faithful horses.
The pace was more leisurely now. There was no rush. The ceremony had fulfilled its purpose, and the return was a kind of meditation in motion, an act of closure. The men carrying them, though tired, maintained their firm bearing, aware of the honor it represented. It wasn't merely a physical burden: it was symbolic, an expression of devotion, respect, and continuity.
As they passed through the archway at the entrance to the village, some of the townspeople who had already awakened came out to see them. A reverent silence fell, interrupted only by the sound of rhythmic footsteps. An old woman leaning out her window crossed herself in a sign of respect. A group of girls, holding hands, watched with shining eyes, as if seeing two mythical heroines returning from a journey beyond time.
Diana slightly raised her face to the clear sky. The morning air was fresh and brought with it a sense of renewal. She knew that this ceremony had sealed a new cycle, both in her life and in the town's history. She was no longer just Elena's daughter: now she had her own place among the riders, her own symbolic stature within the traditional order.
"You did well," Elena whispered, without turning around.
"Thank you," Diana replied, moved but serene.
They approached the center of the plaza. There, flowers still adorned the edges of the ceremonial space, and the altar under the central tree awaited the conclusion of the procession. It was there that they would dismount, there where the men would bow for the last time in closing, and where mother and daughter would descend from their shoulders to step back onto the ground, although taller than ever.
When the horses slowly knelt, both ladies dismounted with a dignity that seemed suspended in the air. Diana felt the earth beneath her boots, but her spirit still rode high.
In the respectful silence of all present, Elena raised her hand, and her voice carried clearly:
"The journey has been traveled. The ceremony has been fulfilled. May respect and harmony continue among us, and among all."
Diana, at her side, bowed her head slightly. The entire town applauded softly, an ovation more spiritual than noisy.
The new day had begun, and the return was not an end, but a beginning.
The sun had already crossed the horizon when Diana and Elena stopped in front of the church atrium. As dictated by ancient tradition, the ceremonial procession was to close with a blessing given by the town's spiritual guide. This time, it was the new priest who waited at the main door, dressed in his dark cassock, nervous but calm, like someone who knows he's about to witness something he doesn't fully understand.
The footsteps stopped. The people, who had remained silent up to this point, formed a semicircle in front of the church. The riders—mother and daughter—advanced on foot, their steps slow and steady, while their horses, now at rest, remained crouched behind them. Diana held her hat in one hand, the other still resting on the pommel of her ceremonial whip. Elena, for her part, maintained the demeanor of a matriarch.
The priest observed them. He was young, no more than thirty, and although it was clear that the weight of what he had just seen unsettled him, it was also evident that he had chosen respect over judgment. She clasped the rosary between her fingers, took a step forward, and spoke in a clear voice, though tempered with caution:
"Daughters of the people, walkers of tradition. May this journey made on shoulders also be a symbol of the balance we seek in our souls. May those who carry and those who ride understand each other, listen to each other, respect each other."
She remained silent, searching for the right words.
"Not everything is familiar to me, but if this unites the people, if it strengthens them, if it honors the sacred within you... then I bless this act."
She raised her right hand and made the sign of the cross.
"May God bless the path we have traveled, and the one to come."
The people murmured an "Amen" almost in unison. Elena lowered her head slightly. Diana imitated him, though her gaze never left the priest's. There was a brief exchange of recognition: he understood more than he said, and she respected more than she showed.
Then, as was customary, the ladies extended their hands toward the horses' shoulders. They knelt and touched their foreheads to the ground, not as a sign of submission, but of ritual closure. Everything was over.
The ceremony, with its blend of ancient symbolism and modern solemnity, had been honored. The new priest's blessing marked a silent acceptance, perhaps the beginning of a deeper understanding.
The people were beginning to disperse, but a sense of peace remained in the air. And between the women and the priest, a subtle bond—of respect, of questioning, and of a shared future—had been born.
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The Return Home
When the square quieted down and the mourners began to leave amidst murmurs of approval and discreet comments, the priest remained at the door of the church. He watched Elena and Diana closely, who were conversing in low voices, like two figures who, with their mere presence, sustained the essence of the moment.
The priest, still holding his rosary, took a few steps toward them. Elena noticed him first and, with her usual dignity, greeted him with a slight nod.
"Father."
"Mrs. Elena," he responded respectfully. "And you must be Diana."
Diana nodded, without lowering her gaze.
"The same."
There was a moment of silence, not awkward, but charged with an energy that demanded measured words.
"Today... it was extraordinary," he finally said sincerely. "I've learned about the customs of the people, but seeing them like this, alive, in you... is something else."
Elena smiled, with the serenity of someone who has already seen several new priests pass by.
"This town has ancient memories, Father. What we do is not on a whim or for show. Every step we take follows a rhythm that preceded us. And that, God willing, will continue after us."
The priest nodded slowly, processing.
"I haven't come to change traditions, but to understand them... to serve this town in what keeps it united. Sometimes faith is expressed through different symbols, but the soul is the same."
Diana intervened more directly:
"Were you bothered by what you saw?"
He looked at her with a mixture of respect and frankness:
"No, Diana. It impressed me, yes. You asked me questions I didn't know I had. But... it didn't bother me. I felt reverence in you, not arrogance. And I saw dignity in both those who ride and those who are ridden. That, I believe, is also sacred."
Elena placed a hand on her daughter's shoulder and looked at the priest gently:
"So you've begun to understand."
The priest smiled for the first time, relaxing his shoulders. He was no longer a stranger. Something in him had connected.
"Thank you for your openness, Father," Elena said.
"Thank you for letting me be. I'd like to... learn more," he replied.
"You will," Diana said, a glint of challenge in her eyes. But not just with theory. Walking with your feet on this earth, being ridden, and your eyes open.
As Diana and Elena walked along the dirt path that wound between the village's old houses, the new priest's words still echoed in their minds. It had been an intense day, not only because of the ceremonial weight of tradition, but because of the symbolic weight of having been understood, at least in part.
The sound of hurried footsteps on the gravel caught their attention.
"Señora Elena, Miss Diana," two young voices said almost in unison.
Two young men, adolescents between fourteen and seventeen years old, approached with respect and a mixture of enthusiasm and shyness. They wore simple but clean clothes, and their expressions expressed devotion.
They were well-known in the village: Óscar and Mateo, sons of ancient families, raised within the traditions with a deep reverence for the rituals and the ladies who performed them.
"Would you like us to escort you to your house?" Mateo asked, now with the tone of someone who knew his role.
Elena looked at them briefly and then at her daughter. Diana, with a slight smile, nodded without needing to say a word. Both young men stood before them, lowered their heads briefly, and, without further ado, took their positions. Óscar knelt before Elena and Mateo before Diana. The ladies bridled, saddled, and settled themselves on the boys' shoulders naturally, stepping on the stirrups, as if resuming an old habit barely interrupted by the ceremony.
The pace resumed its cadence. There was no hurry, but firmness and rhythm. Around them, the people still wandering the streets parted respectfully. Some elderly women exchanged knowing glances; the children watched with wonder and a touch of longing.
"Those were the days," Elena murmured as she settled herself on young Oscar. "I remember when you could barely stand on your first shoulders."
Diana laughed softly.
"And you were behind, with your hands on mine, guiding me. Now look at us... each on her own."
"With their heads held high."
They advanced in silence, except for the faint creaking of the leather harnesses the young men wore. Diana held the reins skillfully; she didn't need to use them to dominate, her presence was enough.
Before reaching the house, Elena looked up at the sky, which was beginning to turn golden with sunset tones.
"You know? I think the new priest will hold out. He has doubts, but also openness. That's no small feat."
"And if not, we'll know how to ride him too," Diana replied ironically.
They both laughed.
And as the young men led them with a firm step, one felt that the town's history lived on in every gesture, every word, and every stretch of that symbolic journey home.
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The Riders and Their Horses
Elena and Diana, as ladies of honor and the center of the ceremony, were dressed in carefully chosen outfits that combined elegance, symbolism, and authority.
Diana, in her early twenties and at the height of her presence, wore a splendid ceremonial riding attire:
• A wide-brimmed black hat with a burgundy ribbon, which framed her firm, youthful face.
• Sunglasses gave her an enigmatic air.
• A fitted white, long-sleeved blouse with discreet gold embroidery on the cuffs and collar. The design highlighted her slender silhouette and firm posture.
• A dark leather corset, fitted at the waist, a symbol of control and elegance.
• Heavy, pearl-gray riding breeches, perfectly fitted, tucked into knee-high black leather riding boots with gold detailing.
• In her hands, she casually gripped Mateo's tanned leather reins, while a thin riding crop rested on the side of her right thigh, secured by a loop.
• Her spurs gleamed on the back of her boots.
Elena, her mother, wore a more sober and majestic version of the outfit, befitting her maturity and status:
• A dark gray felt hat, decorated with a discreet feather.
• Sunglasses gave her distinction.
• An ivory silk blouse, buttoned to the neck, with an antique horseshoe-shaped brooch, a family heirloom.
• A burgundy riding breeches, designed to allow comfort and firmness on the back of her human horse.
• Brown tanned leather boots, slightly wider than her daughter's, with spurs engraved with the town's crest.
• Elena also wore a short cape, which opened as she mounted and flowed lightly with each Óscar step.
Both women rode with ease and distinction, projecting strength, elegance, and leadership. They didn't need to impose themselves with words: their presence, their attire, and their position spoke for themselves.
For five long years, Óscar and Mateo waited. Not with noisy impatience, but with the serene hope of those who know that sacred moments arrive when the heart is ready. In the shadow of the ceremonies, after each festivity, while other men lifted the town's ladies onto their shoulders, they watched, silent, attentive, nurturing the noble desire to one day be worthy of carrying Elena and Diana.
Since their childhood, the two young men had been attentive spectators of each journey, watching with admiration as other, more experienced men had the honor of serving the town's ladies. Every detail—their firm gait, the composure of their shoulders, the coordination with their rider—was for them a lesson and a promise.
They had trained in silence. They learned to maintain their posture, to bear the weight of honor with dignity, to read the ladies' gestures, to know the rhythm of their gait. Even in the moments when they seemed forgotten, they never ceased to devoutly long for that moment of recognition.
That morning, the sun didn't seem different, but everything about them was. Dressed in the sobriety the occasion demanded, their muscles tempered by practice and their souls aflame with longing, they waited on the esplanade. When Diana, haughty and luminous like a young goddess, approached Mateo, and wordlessly gave him a bit, bridled him, saddled him, and inserted the reins, he lowered his head for a moment—not in submission, but in reverence—and then straightened. He felt her gracefully climb onto his shoulders, settle in as if she had always been his rider, and then he knew: the dream was now flesh, the desire was now reality.
Óscar, for his part, held his breath when Elena—her serene figure, the wise gaze of one who knows the weight of a symbol—chose him. There were no questions. He knelt, and she gave him a bit, tied his reins, placed the saddle on him. She climbed naturally, like someone returning to a familiar place, sitting in the saddle and stepping on the stirrups. The years of waiting became a single instant of eternity when she gently adjusted the reins he held.
They advanced together. The town streets seemed to open before them; the murmur of the attendants was like an ancient song that only they understood. The young men's gait was firm, ceremonious; their backs, proud. Elena and Diana, upright, haughty, sustained not only by the bodies of their bearers, but by their will transformed into ritual.
And at every step, Óscar and Mateo didn't carry the ladies: they were carried by them and sustained them with their souls, lifting them up with the devotion of those who, at last, walked within the dream that had nourished them for years.
As they walked along the marked path, amidst silent applause and respectful glances, their steps were firm, their breathing deep. The people looked at them with approval: now they were part of the tradition, a living part of the symbol.
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The Priest (1)
The riders rode back to the church. In the distance, among the cool shadows of the temple's corridors, the new priest watched the scene unfold with the majesty of an ancient rite. The procession moved slowly, the young and firm bodies of Óscar and Mateo carrying the ladies with dignity, who, erect like living statues, dominated the air itself with their presence. Elena and Diana were the center of everything: of the rhythm, of the respect, of the symbol.
The priest didn't judge. He just watched. And as his eyes followed the elegant sway of the ceremonial steps, his mind brought him back to the conversation he had had weeks before with his predecessor, the elderly priest who now lived in the parish house, amid old books and prolonged silences.
"Father, and you?" he had asked, almost naively. "Have you never been scandalized by this custom?"
The old man had smiled with a wisdom born of life, not dogma.
"At first, yes," he replied, slowly stirring his tea. "Like many who come from outside. But I soon understood that there was no scandal in what is sincere. Here, this is not a game or a display. It's a symbol. It's a ritual. And like all rituals, it has a truth that transcends form."
The new priest had remained silent then, but the old man hadn't finished.
"And do you know what else I understood? That neither the body is lowered nor dignity lost when the gesture is born of respect. Yes, I also participated. Not as a spectator or as a judge. I was part of it, like all those who have sought to understand. There is no greater blessing than being part of something that unites, that uplifts, paradoxical as it may seem."
Now, seeing Diana's face rise proudly on Mateo's shoulders, and Elena guiding Oscar with the serenity of one who knows the way, the priest understood. It wasn't just a tradition: it was a profound truth. A people who honor their ladies doesn't submit, it elevates itself. A man who offers himself doesn't humble himself, he exalts himself.
And so, when the procession reached the door of the church, the priest prepared himself. Not only to bless, as custom dictated. But perhaps, to understand in an even more intimate way, over time.
The new priest, still standing by the door of the church, kept his gaze fixed on the near horizon, where the procession was slowly approaching. Although he had already heard the old priest's confession, his heart still throbbed with doubt: not so much because of what he saw, but because of what he felt stirring inside him, like an ancient truth he hadn't quite accepted.
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The Priest (2)
It was then that the old priest appeared beside him, walking with his worn wooden cane and a slight, melancholy smile on his lips. He stood by his side, silently watching as Diana and Elena, upright, advanced with the solemnity of ancestral queens, fearlessly riding the symbol of a living custom.
"You're confused," the old man said, without the young man needing to speak. "I understand. I was there too."
The new priest didn't respond, but his gesture was enough.
"It's not enough to understand it from the outside," the old man continued, his voice warm like a confession in the early morning. "It's something you feel in your bones, not in books. Something you only understand when you become part of the circle, when you cross the line between the pulpit and the square."
The young man looked at him sideways. Then the old man added, with naked sincerity:
"I was also ridden by Diana." And for his mother, and for other ladies as well. Not out of weakness, nor out of desire. I did it with the conviction of one who carries something sacred. It is not servitude. It is surrender. It is not submission. It is a symbol.
The words hung suspended for a moment, and the silence that followed was more eloquent than any sermon. The new priest, for the first time, felt no scandal. He felt something deeper: reverence.
In front of them, Diana raised her gaze and directed it toward both of them. She wasn't smiling, but her face held recognition, as if she knew that, even without having said it, the old man had spoken on her behalf. And that the young man, perhaps, was already beginning to listen with his heart.
Incredulous, the new priest asked, "Were you ridden by Diana like young Mateo?"
The old priest let out a slight laugh, almost like a sigh. It wasn't mockery or irony: it was the serene laughter of someone who has lived a long time and no longer defends himself from the truth.
"Yes, son," he replied with gentle firmness. "I was Diana's horse, and she rode me like Mateo. With respect. With strength. With dignity. I began to be ridden when I was barely blossoming as a woman and her mother was preparing her. As others before me rode their mothers. As I rode others, when I was still young and strong. Because that's what we do here. It's not about possession, but about honor."
The new priest opened his mouth, but said nothing. The symbolic weight of those words was too great, too unexpected. The contrast with everything he had learned in the cloisters was brutal. But deep down, he found no sin, no impurity. Only a different truth, with roots deeper than judgment.
The old man He continued:
"Not everyone understands this. Some leave. Others criticize. But those who remain... discover that the body is not the enemy of the soul, but its vehicle. Here, the act of carrying a lady is not a game or an empty ritual. It is a recognition of her power. It is an education in humility, both for the man and the clergy."
The young man lowered his gaze. The procession was close. Diana stood tall, majestic, like a mythical figure crossing generations.
"And now what should I do?" he finally asked.
The old man placed a hand on his shoulder.
"What a true priest always does: bless what the people love, not what you understand, but what they live. And perhaps, when you are ready, you will carry it too. Not out of habit. Out of conviction."
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The Priest (3)
The young priest remained motionless as Diana, her mother Elena, and the other participants crossed the threshold of the main square, returning to the village. The bells still rang softly, like an ancient echo that seemed to sing the melody of generations past. The priest watched, but now no longer with surprise or judgment. He watched with an open soul and a restless heart.
Mateo walked firmly under Diana's weight. He didn't seem to suffer; rather, he carried it as if he were carrying a living banner. Diana was serene, haughty, wrapped in a dark burgundy riding dress, her high boots gleaming in the setting sun. Elena, beside her, also rode, and her figure radiated the kind of authority that needs no words to command.
The old priest gently pushed him forward.
"It's your moment."
The young man swallowed. He took a step. Another. He walked to the center of the float, where the men were already stopping to allow the ladies to slowly descend from their shoulders. But Diana and Elena didn't get off. On the contrary, they looked toward him, waiting.
The young priest raised his right hand. In a clear but trembling voice, he began:
"May the God of earth and sky bless this walk, which is not arrogance, but symbolism. May he bless the shoulders that carry with honor, and the hearts that ride with purpose. May this tradition not be interpreted with ignorance, but with reverence."
A heavy silence filled the plaza, as if the air itself held its breath. Diana closed her eyes, receiving the blessing as if receiving an invisible crown. Elena, firm and smiling, nodded gently. Mateo and Óscar bowed their heads in respect.
And something changed inside the young priest.
He no longer saw Mateo as a young man driven by whim, but as an active witness to an ancient pact. He no longer saw Diana as someone who needed to be corrected, but as a woman whose place had been carved out not by imposition, but by consensus and ceremony.
A fleeting vision crossed his mind, like a memory that was not his own: him, years later, still strong, kneeling for a new young woman from the village to ride him on her first ride. The thought shook him, but not with shame: with acceptance.
The old man, behind him, murmured:
"Now you understand."
The young man nodded. And with a firmer voice, he closed the ceremony:
"Let them follow the path. Let them follow the honor. Let them follow the tradition. In the name of all that is sacred."
And so, Elena and Diana, riding together, crossed the center of the plaza, greeting those present. In the distance, someone sang a traditional song, and the younger ones began to applaud.
The town hadn't changed. But the priest had.
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Diana's Preparation
In the heart of the mountains stood the town of Paso Alto, where the seasons marked not only the passage of time, but also the life cycles of its inhabitants. There, traditions were not burdens of the past, but threads that wove the unity of the present.
Every year, during the Balance of the Roads ceremony, a procession took place that symbolized mutual respect between generations, community commitment, and the transmission of wisdom. The women, called Riders, represented the voice and vision of the people. The men, called Horses, symbolized strength and dedication to the service of the common good. Together they advanced in harmony, the lady riding and leading, the man walking and obeying, sharing roles in an ancient choreography.
The Riders, dressed in ceremonial riding outfits—embroidered with symbols of the wind and earth, braided leather belts, and boots—guided the rhythm of the procession with chants and gestures. They rose above their horses and onto mobile platforms, carefully supported by the horses, as an act of respect for the feminine vision that guided the people.
It was not a gesture of submission, but a symbol of mutual trust. Those who carried did so with pride, and those lifted up responded with wisdom and humility. Everything was carefully balanced, and each gesture had its place in the overall harmony.
Diana, a young Rider recently initiated, rode beside her mother, Elena, one of the most respected leaders. Both had gone through their own coming-of-age rites and now shared the responsibility of transmitting the village's values. The males who were their horses—Óscar and Mateo—had been chosen not for their strength, but for their devotion to the village's values: respect, unity, and service.
In the distance, the new village priest watched. It was his first Balancing of the Ways ceremony, and he was still learning the symbols. The former priest, now an old man, approached him and said with a smile:
"Here, we all serve. We are all ridden by someone. And we all, at some point, ride. It's how we learn to live in balance."
The young priest nodded slowly, understanding that, in Paso Alto, traditions were not about dominance, but about trust.
And as the sun descended between the mountains, Diana and Elena rode amidst the chants, not for superiority, but as guides, bringers of vision in a village where all walked together.
Diana was born on a starry night, on the eve of the Festival of the Four Winds. From the beginning, the council elders knew that her arrival was not ordinary: her name had been whispered by the wise women weeks before, during a full moon ceremony.
In Paso Alto, each girl is welcomed by a Mentor, an older woman who guides her from her earliest years. In Diana's case, her mentor was her own mother, Elena, although she also received teachings from other Guardians who shared stories, tasks, and rituals collectively.
From a young age, Diana learned that every action in the village had a symbolic value:
At age 10, Diana participated for the first time in the Center Dance, a ceremony where girls and boys were presented to the community as apprentices. There, the girl rides on a relative, usually the father or an uncle, and the boys walk beside a relative, usually the mother or an aunt. The boys carried offerings in their hands, and the girls led the singing. It was a first test of balance: action and vision, the physical and the symbolic.
The training phase was progressive. Diana learned to read the signs of the sky, interpret the tales of the ancients, and walk with a firm step without losing her gentleness. At age 15, she received her first ceremonial belt, a symbol of her emerging responsibility. At 17, she was called to her first elevation, or to ride as a rider: not as a privilege, but as a guide.
Thus, she became a Rider. Not by inheritance, but by merit and connection to the deep values of her people.
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Diana, the Rider
Diana had turned seventeen. In Paso Alto, that age not only marks biological maturity, but also the moment when the Rider fully assumes her role as guide, symbol, and mediator between generations and the living symbols of the community.
Her gait and her riding style were serene and confident, like that of someone who knew her way. She dressed with the dignity befitting her status: a white linen blouse embroidered with solar symbols, a colorful braided sash with gold and copper threads, a light cape that she wore during nighttime ceremonies, tight-fitting trousers, and boots. On special occasions, she wore her ceremonial riding attire, with high, fine leather boots adorned with the emblems of the Riders' circle.
She was admired and respected. Girls wanted to be like her, young men listened to her in silence, and the elders nodded in gratitude as they watched her ride past on shoulders or horizontally on their backs. Diana did not impose herself, but her presence organized.
During annual celebrations—such as the Solstice Crossing—she led the procession from high above, on the shoulders of her horses, a symbol of wisdom and elevated guidance. It was not a position of power over others, but a recognition of the spiritual value the community placed on her.
The men she rode on these crossings did so not out of servitude, but out of devotion to community harmony. They too were part of the ceremony: those ridden and elevate the ladies, those who guide and orient. This preserved the balance that defined Paso Alto.
In her adulthood, Diana also took on the role of trainer of new apprentices. To each generation, she passed on not only the external forms of the rite, but also its inner meaning: that riding or being ridden, leading or being led, are symbolic acts of respect, cooperation, and order.
At community gatherings, Diana opened the stories with her clear voice:
“Everything we do here is symbolic. The visible reveals the invisible. We are body and soul of the same rite, each in her own time.”
And so, with a firm step and clear gaze, Diana lived her adulthood as a Rider. Her people followed her with confidence, not because it was imposed on her, but because she nobly embodied the best of their tradition.
Paso Alto is full of legends that span generations. The most frequently told at games and nightly bonfires are:
1. The Legend of Luma, the First Guardian
It is said that Luma saved the people during a storm that lasted thirteen moons. Not with strength, but with wisdom: she taught the inhabitants to build shelters with living roots and to keep the fires of the soul burning. She was the first to ride and be lifted up to guide the people from the heights.
2. The Bridge of Bearers
This tells the story of a group of men who volunteered to be part of a human bridge between two cliffs so the Riders could carry offerings to the Temple of the Wind. Their gesture marked the beginning of the ceremony of the High Ones, which is still honored every equinox.
3. The Song of Balance
An ancient melody that, it is said, can only be sung when the entire community beats in harmony. If a single voice is out of tune due to pride, the song fades away. This legend teaches that leadership and humility cannot be separated.
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The Human Bridge
The "human bridge" is a deeply symbolic image within the legends of Paso Alto, evoking dedication, devotion, and unity among the villagers.
Legend has it that, in ancient times, long before Diana was born, there was a particularly harsh winter. The rains had washed away the old wooden bridge that connected the heart of the village with the Temple of the Wind, a sanctuary at the top of a cliff, on the other side of a deep ravine.
The ceremony of the Winds of Blessing was approaching, and without the bridge, the Riders could not carry the offerings that renewed the pact with the mountain and ensured the fertility of the valley.
It was then that a group of men from the village—young men, old men, fathers, and brothers—gathered in silence and made a decision. Without asking, without anyone ordering them, they offered themselves as a bridge.
With ropes, nets, and oak branches, they tied themselves together and lay in a row across the narrow chasm. One by one, they lined up, arms outstretched, hands clasped, bodies tense, supporting each other's weight, forming a human arch that joined the two shores.
The Riders—in their ceremonial attire, feather crowns, and sacred wool capes—crossed with a firm step over them. They went barefoot, not out of lightness, but out of respect: to feel the pulse of those who held them, to remember that tradition does not rise alone, but rather on living bodies and willing hearts.
Diana, who heard this story from her grandmother as a child, never forgot that teaching:
"The most sacred paths are not made of stone or wood. They are made of flesh, of spirit, and of the will to sustain something greater than oneself."
From then on, the human bridge became a ritual symbol. Not always literally, but present in the dances, in the stories, and in the way the people understand the act of supporting and guiding. For the Guardians, it was a reminder of humility; for the men, of dignity in service; for all, a lesson in unity.
In modern times, the wonderful moment is recreated: at the exact hour when the sun touched the edge of the cliff, the Ladies gathered, wrapped in their ritual cloaks woven with woolen threads, quetzal feathers, and gold trim. Diana and her mother, Elena, walked at the head of the group, crowned with tall flowers, their faces serene, their gaze alight with the memory of generations.
In front of them, extended like a living gesture of offering, lay the human bridge. Twenty men from the town—young, old, some with silver hair, others with hands still trembling with emotion—had stretched out, linking bodies and arms with a firmness born of the soul. Their arched backs held up the sky, their ribs and heads were stepping stones.
Elena was the first to remove her high-heeled sandals. Diana followed her silently. The other Ladies imitated the gesture, and one by one, they went barefoot. Not out of empty ceremony, but out of respect. Because in that act, the sacred feet touched the living sacrifice, and the men offered not their name, nor their strength, but their entire being.
The soles of their feet felt the warmth of manly skin, the bated breath beneath them, the accelerated heartbeat that climbed up their spines as if the bridge itself were throbbing.
They passed unhurriedly, one after another, with the poise of priestesses and the solemnity of those treading on open hearts. They didn't speak. Only the wind spoke.
For Diana, it was an eternal moment. She felt Óscar's nerves beneath her feet, Mateo's serene rhythm, the vibrant pulse of young Andrés who had just joined the horses. Each step was a silent conversation between the feminine and the masculine, between the one who guides and the one who supports.
When they had completely crossed, the Ladies turned and, with a raised gesture of their arms, blessed their human steps. There was no applause, only gazes filled with fire and gratitude. It was a communion, a renewal of the ancient pact:
“You sustain us. We guide you. Together, the people rise.”
Then, the ladies' bare feet are kissed by the horses.
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Diana Riding (1)
When Diana needed to travel from one place to another, Mateo and other men from the village carried her on their shoulders. She traveled comfortably and sometimes slept due to the swaying of her horse's gait.
Diana is treated with special deference and privilege, highlighting her status or the affection the men of the village have for her. Being carried on their shoulders, to the point that she may sleep during the journey, suggests total trust and a relationship of willing submission on the part of her horses. It also projects a symbolic image of elevation and power.
The horses carry Diana on their shoulders for a combination of social, emotional, and symbolic factors:
1. Admiration and devotion: Diana represents something special to them—for her beauty, character, leadership, or charisma—and carrying her is a way of paying homage to her, as if it were a Queen, Leader, or Revered Figure.
2. Local tradition or custom: There is a cultural practice in this village whereby prominent individuals, such as respected or beloved young women, are carried on the shoulders of men, their horses, under certain circumstances.
3. Demonstration of strength and service: For men, carrying her is a way of proving their physical strength and willingness to serve. It is also a form of passive competition: whoever endures being ridden by her the longest may gain prestige or her favor.
4. Acceptance of the role of subordination: If Diana exerts a strong emotional or symbolic influence on them, as a dominant or inspirational figure, the men assume this role of horse as something natural or even pleasurable.
5. Romantic fascination or submission: They are in love with her, or deeply attracted to her, and being ridden by her is their way of being close to her, pleasing her, or showing their total devotion.
In short, men are ridden by Diada because, in their eyes, she deserves it, and they find meaning—whether emotional, social, or symbolic—in supporting and elevating her, literally being her horses.
In this community, the act of carrying ladies like Diana on their shoulders is not only a gesture of personal affection, but a socially accepted and valued custom. Here are some implications of this tradition:
1. Rite of courtship and devotion: The strongest and most dedicated men compete or volunteer to be ridden by the lady they admire, as a public display of their love, obedience, and desire to please her.
2. Affective and social hierarchy: Ladies carried in this way acquire a higher symbolic status. Being carried by several men is a sign of their charm, authority, and centrality in the community.
3. Obedience to her commands: They are not only transported; They also follow her instructions, using the reins, whip, and spurs, which reinforces her position of emotional and, in some cases, even moral or organizational leadership.
4. The Body as a Throne: The admirers' shoulders become a mobile throne. She is elevated, visible, resting while they work for her, in a scene laden with symbolism.
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Diana Riding (2)
Diana doesn't need to walk; the men carry her on their shoulders.
The scene takes on an even more symbolic dimension, with Diana practically "carried" by the men who carry her. She is above them, not only in status but also physically, as they must move while she remains in a privileged position, riding on their shoulders.
There's something deeper to this dynamic:
1. Diana's elevated position: By not needing to walk, Diana represents the pinnacle of the community, an ideal the men strive to achieve. She is not only physically but socially unattainable for them, while they, by carrying her, show their devotion and the effort to keep up with her.
2. The men's sacrifice: By carrying Diana under her weight, the men show that they are willing to sacrifice their comfort and effort to make her feel comfortable. This constant effort underscores their love and devotion to her, where she becomes a kind of "Queen" who rules from her elevated position.
3. The balance between power and submission: While Diana is the dominant figure, she does not necessarily exercise explicit authority in terms of commands. Her mere presence, in this case, is enough for the men to submit to her will, whether by fulfilling her wishes or by taking her form. It is a form of voluntary submission that highlights the power she holds over them, without her needing to actively demand it.
4. Diana's journey: Each step the men take under Diana's weight represents not only a physical effort, but also their emotional "journey" as they are ridden by her, guided by her, while she rests on top of them, relaxed and comfortable. In their walk, the men demonstrate their willingness to follow her, literally, as she directs them to their destination.
This custom highlights not only Diana's role as a central figure, but also the men's dedication and respect for her.
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Diana Riding (3)
Diana is not only carried on the shoulders of men, but she rides as an absolute and dominant rider, seated on a firmly secured saddle, with stirrups to support her feet, reins for control, a whip to give precise commands, and spurs to mark the pace or demand greater effort.
This painting presents a symbolically rich power structure:
1. Total dominance: Diana is not a passive passenger, but an active rider. She controls the direction, pace, and behavior of the men who carry her, as if they were a single human mount. This emphasizes her authority and the absolute obedience of her admirers.
2. Equestrian aesthetics adapted to the human: By using typical horsemanship implements (saddle, reins, whip, spurs), a symbolic equivalence is established: the men are her human horses. She doesn't walk because they must lead her, guided by her hands, her voice, or even a caress with the whip and spurs.
3. Elegance and Control: Sitting securely on her saddle, Diana maintains a graceful and elegant posture as she moves through the village. She greets gently or looks at the horizon, unconcerned about the path, because her "horses" obey her devotedly.
4. Symbiotic but Asymmetrical Relationship: Although there is a bond between rider and mount, it is she who sets the terms. The men take pride in serving her, and she, aware of her power, guides them with firmness and skill.
Diana, an imposing rider, wears an elegant and perfectly tailored riding habit. She wears a fitted, dark wine-colored jacket with gold buttons, a high collar, and a slight sheen in the fabric that stands out in the sun. Beneath the jacket, a white blouse with a pleated collar appears with sober distinction. Her waist is cinched with a black leather belt, and the ensemble continues with beige riding breeches, fitted to her long legs and tucked into high, shiny, black leather boots that reach just below her knees, decorated with golden spurs.
On her head, she wears a short-brimmed black equestrian hat or riding helmet, which lets some of her hair fall loose or is elegantly braided. She wears dark riding gloves, and in her right hand she holds a thin riding crop, which rests gently on her thigh or sways as she guides.
The man she rides is dressed in simple, submissive clothing, designed to carry her comfortably and obediently:
He is topless, showing his bare back, slightly reddened by the constant weight of the mount and the caresses of the whip and spurs. A leather saddle is tightly fitted over his shoulders, secured with straps that cross his chest and waist. He wears only a pair of sturdy, unadorned cloth shorts and is barefoot, his feet in direct contact with the rough village ground. He carries a bridle with a bit in his mouth, attached to the reins that Diana grips elegantly yet firmly. His gaze reveals a mixture of exhaustion, pride, and devotion.
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Diana and Her Horses
Diana approached calmly, staring at the man who waited on his knees, head bowed, silent. With precise movements, she placed the bit between his lips, adjusting it firmly as he offered no resistance. Then, she tied the bridle around his head, ensuring the reins were perfectly aligned with his hands. Without a word, the man accepted the gesture as an honor.
Elegantly, Diana lifted the saddle—dark leather, reinforced and polished—and placed it over his back and between his shoulders. The straps descended to the sides, and she adjusted them firmly under his chest, securing the saddle with expert skill. Then, she lowered the stirrups on each side, tested them with her foot, and adjusted the straps to the exact height.
Without needing to say a word, the man stood in position, ready. Diana climbed in naturally, as if it had always been her place. She placed a boot in the left stirrup, gracefully raised her body, and firmly sat on the saddle, settling in elegantly. The reins fell to either side of her waist, and her riding crop rested on her thigh, ready if needed.
From there, elevated, she rode him with regal bearing, guiding him with the pressure of her spurs and the precise signals of the reins. He moved forward obediently, walking for her, while Diana led him with dignity and confidence, slowly walking the path, upright, serene, and in complete control.
Diana doesn't distinguish between new and old admirers when it comes to exercising her control. Her preparation is meticulous and exact with all: first, she assesses the man—his posture, obedience, stamina—and based on that, she decides how to proceed.
For everyone, novice or veteran, being ridden by Diana is an unquestionable honor, and for her, it is a natural way to exercise her authority with elegance and absolute dominance.
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Diana and Her Apprentice Horses
She speaks to the novice horses in a soft but firm voice, guiding them step by step. She teaches them how to accept the bit, shows them how to keep their heads down when receiving the bridle, and helps them stabilize themselves as she securely adjusts their saddle. Many tremble when they feel her mount for the first time, but the moment their boots settle into the stirrups, they understand they are now under her command. She rides them firmly, correcting any wobbling, teaching them the rhythm with precise touches of her legs and spurs; and, when necessary, with a touch of the whip. It doesn't take long to break them in.
When a novice male is chosen by Diana, the first thing he experiences is her firm, appraising gaze, which examines him from head to toe. She doesn't ask if he's ready; she determines it herself. She orders him to kneel and then to get on all fours. Many tremble, not from fear, but from the intensity of her presence.
Diana starts with the basics:
• “Head down. Back straight.”
• “Don’t look up without permission.”
Once in position, she places the bit on him, making sure he holds it correctly. Then she attaches the bridle to him, and he begins to feel what it means to be under her control.
Next comes the saddle. She places it on him gently but authoritatively, and she adjusts the straps firmly, explaining:
“This keeps you steady. Don’t move unless I say so.”
As she rides him for the first time, she speaks constantly:
“Stay steady. Breathe slowly. If you stumble, you’re not afraid of the weight… you’re afraid of me. And that’s okay.”
If he becomes unsteady, she uses the whip, not as punishment, but as guidance. She teaches him to interpret the pressure of her thighs and spurs, the tension of the reins, and the tone of her voice.
The first rides are short. When she notices progress, she whispers,
"Good horse. Not perfect... but useful."
With each session, the novice learns. And when he can finally carry her without mistakes, she acknowledges it with a brief pat on the head. That's enough to make him proud.
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Diana and Her Experienced Horses
Diana gives no instructions to the experienced ones. They position themselves, open their mouths, and she places the bit between their lips while they stand with their head bowed, waiting silently for her to take their place. She knows them well: she knows how much weight they can bear, which signals they respond most quickly, and what pace they can maintain over long distances. With them, she allows herself to relax her torso, place one hand on her hip and let the other hold the reins as she moves forward effortlessly. Once tamed, they lead her with pride, eager to please her with every step.
The veterans don't need words. They know what is expected. As soon as Diana appears, they move into position without her asking. Some even move their heads toward the bit, opening their mouths out of habit, knowing they will receive the honor of being ridden by her.
She distinguishes between them by how they respond to her signals:
• A slight movement of the ankle using the spur is enough to make them turn.
• Pressure with her right knee and the use of the spurs, and their pace quickens.
• If she raises the whip, they stop.
With the veterans, Diana doesn't train: she directs and demands. There are no explanations. Just short commands, and they obey them with precision and pride. Some have ridden her for hours without failing once. She allows them to advance at a trot or even a human gallop, and sometimes rewards them with a word of recognition or a brief caress at the end of the journey.
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The Initiation Ceremony
In the village, the traditional age for the initiation ceremony for human riders and horses is 16, when the young men are considered to have attained the physical strength and emotional readiness necessary to participate responsibly in this special bond.
• Boys are prepared for their role as "horses," if they so choose or if chosen by a lady. They are instructed in obedience, endurance, discipline, and service.
• Ladies are taught the art of riding with elegance and authority: how to properly position equipment (bit, bridle, saddle, stirrups, reins), how to use their voice, posture, reins, whip, and spurs to guide with dignity, and how to maintain their "horse" with respect and good condition.
The ceremony is public, with family and community members present. Finally, the first official mount takes place: the chosen rider mounts her designated horse, in a solemn march that represents her passage to leadership, and the man's acceptance to be guided and serve under her direction.
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The Training of Rookie Riders (1)
The training prior to the initiation ceremony is extensive and rigorous, as it seeks to prepare both the young female riders and the male riders who will assume the role of "horses" with respect, discipline, and skill.
The training begins at age 14 and lasts two full years, culminating in the ceremony at age 16. During this time, participants regularly attend sessions led by experienced instructors, among whom Diana stands out, renowned for her authority, technical perfection, and absolute mastery of both the art of riding and the manipulation of others' will.
Diana not only trains, she builds character.
She teaches novice riders how to:
• Command a presence from the first step.
• Master body language: firm hands, straight back, determined gaze.
• Correctly position the equipment: from the bit, bridle, saddle with stirrups, to the reins, ensuring the human horse is fully subject to its guide.
• Use the reins, whip, and spurs with precision to set the pace, punish, or reward.
• Maintain balance during long rides without losing grace.
Training takes place in a specially equipped camp, known in the village as The Training Track. There, Diana leads a team of instructors, all experienced, elegant, steady, and respected women. Each of them is accompanied by one or more men, who are not only her companions but also horses designated to assist in the instruction of the young riders.
Training Dynamics
• The apprentice riders, from the age of 14, line up each morning in formation, dressed in training clothes: boots, tight pants, a fitted blouse, and a belt, while holding their reins, whips, and spurs as a symbol of their role.
• In front of them, the male instructors (horses) are already in position: standing or on all fours, with basic equipment at their sides (bit, bridle, saddle) ready for educational use.
• Diana begins the day with a demonstration: she firmly mounts one of her horses, usually a veteran who already knows its rhythms. From high above, she gives the commands for the exercises to begin.
Participation of the "Horses"
The males assigned to train the riders are not novices. They are chosen for their strength, obedience, and experience under horseback riding. Their role is to serve as a real support for the young riders' learning:
• They allow themselves to be bridled, saddled, ridden, and led over and over again, bearing the weight without complaint.
• They obey the rookies' commands while the instructors observe, correct, or even reprimand them.
• If a rider fails to ride gracefully, the instructor has her repeat the movement until she is completely proficient.
• Each male horse knows that their role is vital in training the next generation of female leaders. Many are proud to be ridden by the future elite of the village.
Diana as a central figure
Diana doesn't just observe: she actively participates. If a rookie seems unsure, she intervenes with authority, sometimes riding the same male in front of everyone, demonstrating how to ride precisely, how to apply the whip and spurs with intention, and how to use the body, reins, whip, and spurs to control the course. • When a rider does well, Diana makes her ride a full course with everyone watching, as recognition.
• When she does poorly, she makes her dismount and observe in silence, reminding her that power isn't given away; it can be mastered.
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The Rookie Riders' Training (2)
The morning sun fell softly on the Training Arena. The young riders, standing in a row, watched intently as Diana walked confidently at the front. Standing at attention beside her was Lucas, her demonstration horse, a strong, docile male, bare-chested and with his gaze lowered in obedience.
Diana raised her voice, firm but elegant:
"Every rider must master three things: grooming, riding, and leading. Today you will learn all three. Watch."
1. Preparation
Diana positioned herself behind Lucas. Precisely and unhurriedly, she explained each step:
"First, the bit. It is inserted gently but firmly. The horse must open its mouth without protest. If it doesn't, it is expected... but not begged."
She placed the bit between Lucas's lips and held it.
— "Next, the bridle. It's tied securely. This ensures that control is always in our hands."
She continued with the saddle, adjusted it around the man's torso, and lowered the stirrups.
— "These stirrups should be level with your boots. No higher, no lower. Every rider should gauge the fit with a single glance."
2. Riding
Elegantly, Diana mounted in a single burst. Her boots fit into the stirrups, and her back was erect.
— "Always ride with determination. If you hesitate, the horse will sense it... and you will lose authority."
With the whip in her right hand and the reins in her left, she straightened her posture.
3. Driving
— "Now, the art of leading."
She gave a slight signal with the reins. Lucas began to walk, taking measured steps. Diana barely moved: her center was firm, her gaze straight ahead.
— "A rider doesn't shout. A rider commands with her body. The horse must feel when to go, when to stop, when to kneel... just with the movement of her legs, the caresses of the whip and spurs, and the tension of the reins."
She spun in a circle, stopped Lucas, and then had him squat down to his knees.
— "So ends the course. Dominance, not by strength... but by presence."
The rookies applauded. Diana dismounted, turned, and concluded:
— "Now, each of you will prepare, ride, and lead your horse. At the end of the day, I will decide who knows how to lead... and who still needs to learn to be obeyed."
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Training Rookie Horses
Diana doesn't just train, she builds character.
Diana teaches males obedience, physical endurance, and, above all, mental commitment. Her sessions include:
• Four-legged and two-legged stance, stillness, and breathing under load.
• Equipment acceptance (bit, saddle, stirrups).
• Gait training with weight on the back.
• Tolerance of signals and corrections without complaint.
Many males tremble before her when she rides them during a practice session. But those who endure and learn end up completely tame, proud to be ridden by her or the riders she approves of.
Diana teaches them to develop confidence, voluntary obedience, leadership, body coordination, and discipline within a symbolic, ritualized, and respectful environment. In this exercise, the "rider" represents the figure of active leadership and guidance. The “horse” represents the role of support, strength, willingness to serve, and physical discipline.
Diana, the group leader, addresses the new horses:
“A new horse is not born knowing how to obey; it learns. And it doesn't obey out of fear, but out of recognition. Today, each one will learn their role: to support or to guide. And both require composure.”
• Participants in the “horse” role must learn to maintain a squatting or all-fours position, breathing calmly, while the “rider” places the bit in the horse's mouth, bridles, saddles, and rides.
• This symbolizes the guide's acceptance.
• The “rider” leads her companion using reins, whip, and spurs, giving commands (left, right, stop, go).
• The “horse” responds to physical stimuli without words, building nonverbal connection.
• The rider rides on her companion's back and shoulders, without applying excessive force. The goal is for both to maintain balance without any discomfort.
• This exercise requires mutual trust and physical control. The rider learns to lead without dominating violently; the horse learns to support without losing its center.
Diana gathers the group and reflects:
“It's not about riding people. It's about learning when to lead, when to support, and above all, how to respect the role each person plays. The best horse is not the one who obeys, but the one who trusts. The best rider is not the one who commands, but the one who inspires.”
So, Diana chooses a rookie horse, puts the bit in its mouth, bridles it, saddles it, rides it, and leads it, while the other instructors do the same. Even rookie riders participate by coaching their peers.
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Initiation Ceremony
Every year, at the arrival of the season of change (spring or harvest), the young men of the community who have reached maturity at the age of 16 participate in an ancestral ceremony, the first public riding. This tradition marks their transition to active life within the village as responsible and committed members.
Before the ceremony, each young man freely chooses a partner of the opposite sex with whom he feels harmony and trust. The man will choose his rider and the woman will choose her horse. The choice is public, but always respectful. It is not a romantic bond, but rather a recognition of someone with whom to ride or be ridden as equals.
"He who chooses, assumes the bond. He who accepts, honors the step."
The couples follow a symbolic route designed to assess three aspects:
1. Physical coordination. She places the bit in his mouth; she ties the straps of the bridle; she places the saddle on him; she cinches the saddle; She steps into a stirrup, jumps, and rides him, sitting comfortably in the saddle, stepping on the stirrups. Once on him, she inserts the reins into the bridle.
2. Nonverbal communication. She guides him using reins, whip, and spurs, as well as tongue clicks and finger snaps.
3. Mutual trust. The horse is blinded and advances through obstacles following the commands of its rider, reins, whip, and spurs.
During the test, the council elders carefully observe the harmony of the pair.
At the end of the course, each rider-horse pair must cross, with her riding on top, between two lit torches, marking their passage to a new stage.
“The torch does not burn if there is truth in the step.”
Once they cross the threshold, they receive a symbol that represents their entry into the community as people capable of cooperating and maintaining healthy bonds.
The community gathers around the fire, and the couples share what they learned from each other during the test. Then, each couple separates with a mutual reverence, expressing gratitude for the learning, with no obligation to remain beyond the ritual.
Diana is a prominent young woman in the community: admired for her leadership, composure, and skills, she is considered an example of maturity. Therefore, all the young men participating in the ceremony for the first time wish to choose her as their companion.
Before the bond test begins, several young men apply to be her horse. However, only one will be chosen to share the test with Diana, in a special section of the ceremony known as "The Choice of Courage." This process occurs as follows:
• The young men who wish to be ridden by her must present themselves before the council circle and explain why they consider themselves worthy of being her horse, not as followers, but as worthy companions.
• Diana listens carefully to each one. She then chooses the one who demonstrates the greatest integrity, humility, and inner balance.
“Courage lies not in rising above her, but in being ridden by her without fearing her light.”
This pair does not undergo the common test. Instead, they are entrusted with a more demanding task, which involves:
• Guiding another, younger pair through the traditional rider-horse test.
• Delivering a message to the people, spoken by both, about what they learned from each other.
At the end, the chosen horse kneels before Diana and kisses her boots, not out of submission, but as a symbol of deep respect. Diana helps him up, and they raise their clasped hands in front of everyone.
By tradition, Diana can be chosen only once a year. Her companion will always wear a special insignia (such as a bracelet braided by herself), symbolizing having shared the test with a guide of her stature.
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Diana's Carriage
In the heart of the mountains, where cobblestone streets tell stories and faces carry the memory of the wind, a special celebration was being prepared: the Day of Bonding and Honor, the most beloved holiday of the people of Los Sauces.
That year, everyone knew who would be the central figure. Diana, a brave young woman, instructor, athlete, and guide, had been chosen as Lady-in-Waiting. From very early on, the women wove flower garlands, the children practiced dances, and the men painstakingly built the ceremonial carriage.
It was a unique carriage. Made of light wood, with finely carved railings, hand-embroidered cushions, and symbols of the town engraved in every corner. It was designed just for her, a mixture of throne and altar, a symbol of the love and respect everyone professed for her.
When the church bells rang three times, a murmur crossed the square.
Diana appeared at the far end, walking on petals that fell like rain. She wore a ceremonial riding habit: a maroon jacket with gold embroidery that shimmered in the sun, tight ivory pants, and high brown leather boots. On her head, a wreath of wildflowers. In her hand, the riding crop, a symbol of leadership granted by the village council.
At the sight of her, everyone fell silent for a moment. She wasn't just beautiful, she was dignified. The young woman who had taught the little ones to read, who had led the mixed volleyball team to regional victory, who always had the right word and a ready smile.
Four strong, strong-willed men were waiting for her by the carriage. They were young men from the village she had helped at one point: one had been her student, another her teammate, another an event planner with her, and the fourth, her own cousin, who used to say that Diana was "the big sister he never had."
She gave them a bit, bridled them, tied them to the carriage, and took hold of their long reins. Then she climbed into the carriage. As she sat down, Diana smiled and gracefully raised her whip. The band began to play, and the procession began.
The streets filled with music, laughter, and applause. Children danced around her, throwing petals and holding colorful ribbons. Diana waved gracefully, but also humbly. At every step, someone recalled a good deed of hers: "She taught me how to throw a ball well." "Thanks to her, I finished high school." "She never forgot my sick mother's birthday."
The four carriage attendants moved forward with a firm step. There was no fatigue on their faces, only pride.
In the center of the square, under the large tree, the carriage stopped. Diana released the reins, got out of the carriage, and stepped onto the small platform adorned with looms.
She spoke clearly:
“Today, the honor is not only mine. Every person here has been part of the bond that unites us. This day belongs to the people, to their memory and their future. If I have learned anything, it is that leadership is not about commanding, but about caring. Thank you for trusting me.”
The applause was long and heartfelt. Then, as was customary, she presented a flower to each of the four carriage horses. They, with a hand on their chests, bowed briefly. Not out of submission, but out of respect.
That night, amidst lanterns and guitars, the plaza was filled with dancing and storytelling. And as Diana danced with the children and greeted the elders, everyone knew they had chosen well. Because in her they saw not only an outstanding young woman, but a sister, friend, teacher, and leader who carried the spirit of the people with every step.
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