Welcome back to our advice column, Ask Stable Sage, where we answer queries from readers about horse- and life-related issues, especially where the two intersect. Take our suggestions with a grain of salt, or at least one sugar cube. This column is intended for entertainment purposes only and should not be considered legal advice. 

Have a question for Stable Sage? Email it to coth.advice@gmail.com. We reserve the right to edit your submission for clarity and length, and we promise to keep it anonymous. 

Dear Stable Sage, 

I tried to keep my mouth shut, I really did. But last week, the barn owner launched into yet another political rant, and I finally lost it. We ended up yelling at each other. I don’t even remember exactly what I said, but I know I raised my voice and it got personal. She said some things I can’t unhear either. Now the energy is … icy.

The barn used to be my sanctuary, but since our blow-up I feel tense every time I pull into the driveway. I don’t want to make a dramatic exit, but I also don’t see how we move forward. I feel strongly about my beliefs, too. Can this be fixed? 

Needing A Muzzle (and Maybe A New Barn)

Dear Needing A Muzzle,

Let’s start with the obvious: We’re living in hyper-charged times. Politics have gotten deeply personal, and once that line gets crossed, it can feel like there’s no way back to neutral. Especially when it’s someone you have to see every day, in what used to be your happy place.

So you lost your cool. Some diplomacy—or a pair of noise-cancelling headphones—might have been preferable, but it happens. Especially when someone turns the barn aisle into a soapbox and you’ve been politely biting your tongue for weeks. There’s something uniquely infuriating about trying to decompress with your horse while someone is unloading their worldview like you’re a captive audience.

That said, at the end of the day, it is her barn. If she owns and manages the facility, she technically has every right to express herself (even if it’s bad for business)—just like you have every right to decide whether that environment still works for you. But that doesn’t mean you’re stuck or powerless. It’s worth asking: Is this a one-time flare-up, or a pattern that’s making the barn feel chronically unsafe or uncomfortable? Can you coexist with space and boundaries? Or are your values just too fundamentally misaligned?

Now comes the part you can control: What happens next.

Start with a clean, direct reset. Not an apology for your beliefs, but an acknowledgment that the shouting match helped no one (and may have alarmed a few lesson ponies). A calm, neutral one-liner can go a long way: “Hey, I know things got heated the other day. I’d really like to keep things peaceful between us and focus on the horses. I hope we can move forward.” This sets a tone and makes space for détente without compromising yourself.

Next, ask yourself honestly: Is this still your sanctuary? Sometimes a barn shifts, slowly or suddenly, and stops feeling like home. If you’re constantly scanning for side-eye or gritting your teeth through political sermons, that tension seeps into everything. And your horse will feel it, too. No amount of great care or fancy barn amenities can make up for walking on eggshells every day.

Maybe you can coexist with some distance. Maybe the dynamic thaws. Or maybe you decide your peace is worth a change of scenery. None of those choices make you petty or dramatic; they make you a person with boundaries, living through a divisive time and doing your best to stay sane in a barn that no longer feels neutral.

While this may feel like a uniquely barn-specific mess, it’s really just a reflection of the world we’re all living in. You’re just as likely to run into this kind of clash at work or across the Thanksgiving table. Sharing space with people who hold wildly different worldviews is hard, but yelling it out rarely moves the needle. If both parties are willing, a conversation might. 

The truth is, most of us are carrying more than we let on these days. The barn should be a place where we can breathe, connect and be present with our horses—not brace ourselves for another fight.

Here’s to barn aisles, not battlegrounds.