Before Voice for the Horse had a name, it had a moment.
Stronger emerged during a period of exploration and curiosity — a time shaped by listening closely to horses, to children, and to what happens when creativity is approached with care rather than agenda. The work was not built around a single outcome, nor was it sparked by one defining piece of writing. Instead, it grew from a wider question: what becomes possible when children are invited to express what they notice and feel, and when that expression is genuinely respected?
Around this same time, a children’s writing initiative was launched — not to produce a result, but to offer space. Space for curiosity. Space for empathy. Space for young voices to explore horses, freedom, responsibility, and connection in their own words. The writing that emerged was thoughtful, surprising, and deeply human.
Listening came first. As the writing was shared, something became clear: when children’s voices are met with patience rather than correction, creativity deepens. Their words didn’t need to be reshaped or explained — they needed to be witnessed. That same listening began to inform the music.
Stronger was written not as a performance piece, but as a response — a reflection of the values taking shape at the time. It carried forward the spirit of what was being learned: that voice grows through trust, that strength does not require force, and that both horses and children respond to presence more than instruction.
When children’s writing was later woven into a music video for Stronger, the connection became visible. The song did not speak for the children — it stood alongside them. Their words were honoured as they were, held with integrity, and shared without distortion. In doing so, the work crossed borders, reached classrooms and families in more than one country, and revealed the quiet power of creative permission.
Stronger was never meant to stand alone. It became a turning point — clarifying what this work would be, and just as importantly, what it would not be. It was not about performance, perfection, or recognition. It was about listening. About creating bridges between writing, music, and the steady presence of horses. About understanding that creativity, when handled with respect, can change how young people see themselves.
Everything that followed — the writing initiatives, the music projects, the legacy work — traces back to that beginning. This page exists to honour that moment.
Before Stronger became a song, it was a convergence. At the same time I was thinking about children’s writing — how to invite imagination without instruction — I was also witnessing the capture of a wild horse. That horse was Atticus, a wild stallion from Deadman Valley, British Columbia.
The questions met each other naturally. What happens when voices that are rarely heard — children’s voices and horses — are given space, not direction? This video reflects that moment of alignment. The writing, the horse, and the listening came together — not by plan, but by attention.
The story is told here, as it unfolded.
We use cookies to analyze website traffic and optimize your website experience. By accepting our use of cookies, your data will be aggregated with all other user data.