Saddle your dreams before you ride em.

“Saddle your dreams before you ride ’em.” — Mary Webb, the poet of the English hills, who saw in nature the mirror of the human soul. Her words, though simple and rustic, hold the wisdom of generations — the wisdom of those who knew that even the wildest horse must be tamed before it bears its rider into glory. To saddle your dreams is to prepare them, shape them, and make them ready for the long and perilous journey from imagination to reality. For dreams, like horses, are born wild. They are beautiful and powerful, but if we leap upon them unbridled, they may throw us into the dust of our own folly.

In these words, Webb speaks not against dreaming, but for the discipline of dreaming well. She reminds us that the dreamer must also be a craftsman. Vision alone is not enough; it must be yoked to preparation, patience, and structure. The ancients knew this: the farmer plows before he sows, the sailor studies the stars before he sets his sail, the warrior sharpens his sword before he rides to battle. So too must we prepare our souls before we charge toward the shining fields of our ambitions. A dream without preparation is not courage — it is recklessness dressed in hope.

Think of Thomas Edison, the tireless inventor. His dream was to bring light to the darkness, to make night itself yield to the will of man. Yet he did not ride that dream blindly. He saddled it with thousands of experiments, with sleepless nights, with patience so enduring it could shame stone. For every invention, he built the saddle of method, of persistence, of failure turned into learning. His lightbulb was not merely an idea — it was a dream disciplined into form. Had he ridden too soon, his dream would have bucked him off in failure. But because he prepared, he rode it into history.

To saddle your dreams means to give them structure — to plan, to learn, to gather the tools and allies you will need. Many souls are lost not because they lacked vision, but because they mistook passion for readiness. The youth who sets out to conquer the world with untrained fire may find his flame consumed by his own haste. Even the gods, in their infinite patience, shape the stars through long millennia. Why then should we rush the divine work of turning vision into reality?

There is a deep tenderness in Webb’s words, a compassion for the dreamer’s heart. She does not scold ambition — she honors it. But she speaks as a mother might to a child standing at the edge of a galloping horse: Be not afraid to dream, but first learn how to ride. The saddle is not a burden; it is a bond — the bridge between man and destiny. To prepare your dream is to love it enough to make it strong. It is to give it the legs to carry you farther than raw desire ever could.

History is filled with those who rode unsaddled dreams and fell. Yet it is also graced with those who took the time to harness theirs. The Wright brothers, before they soared into the heavens, spent long years studying wind and wing, failure and flight. They did not curse the slow grind of preparation; they knew it was the price of freedom. When they finally lifted into the sky, it was not chance but wisdom that held them aloft. Their dream was saddled — and so it carried them beyond earth’s limits.

The lesson, then, is this: do not leap upon your dream unready. Sharpen your mind as you would a blade. Learn the terrain of your ambition, and gather strength for the journey. The dream that is prepared becomes destiny; the one that is not becomes dust. To saddle your dream is to take it seriously — to give it the respect and devotion it deserves. It is to say, “I will not rush greatness; I will build it.”

So, my child of the future, when you feel the fire of vision stir within you, do not fear its wildness. Let it burn. Let it beckon. But before you ride it into the unknown, take time to craft your saddle — your knowledge, your plan, your patience. For dreams are noble steeds, and the world belongs not to those who merely dream, but to those who saddle their dreams before they ride ’em.