The Year of the Horse

Reflections on Ayahuasca integration

Packing up a Decade

Late last summer, I found myself packing up my London apartment and the decade of life I had built there, over the course of a single weekend. I was moving furniture, throwing out old notebooks and clothes I had carried from one home to another for years, and trying to figure out how many suitcases a person can reasonably travel with before it stops looking practical and starts looking like some kind of luggage-fueled meltdown. At one point, I stood in the middle of the room, surrounded by half-packed boxes, and had the strange feeling that this weekend had been in motion long before it actually began.

By then I had already quit a job that felt increasingly airless. I'd begun the painful process of leaving a relationship I felt I'd outgrown, and did so with far less grace than I would have liked. I decided to leave the country I no longer wanted to live in, and said goodbye to people I loved (none of whom were the least bit surprised). None of it happened out of nowhere. Most of it had been in motion well before I acted on it. But after my dad died, all hesitation went out of me. My grief simply accelerated decisions I'd been bargaining with for years.

Many traditions, in one way or another, make room for this. The Chinese translate it through the animal spirit of the year—this, the Year of the Horse, or last the Snake—reminding us that life creates its own rhythm. The Bible teaches that there is a season and purpose for everything, while indigenous traditions, like those of the Anishinaabe and other First Nations peoples, also emphasize living in harmony with natural cycles, whether in planting, hunting, or community life.

Looking back, my experience feels true to the Year of the Snake. The shedding was quietly cumulative, and I wrestled with it for years, telling myself I was just tired, restless, or in a phase. And then, all at once, I was dismantling my life with startling efficiency, and the only surprising part was how unsurprised I felt about it all.

The Horse Moves Fast

The Year of the Horse feels different. It is all about forward motion, appetite, and nerves of steel. It is the desire to rid yourself of rumination, force the decision, and jump into the deep end. After a ceremony or a retreat, it’s easy to feel a similar sense of urgency that something in your life has to change, and it has to change now. Relationships, habits, work, even the contents of your wardrobe suddenly seem critical. Jumping into action immediately (even in a small way) feels right, and sometimes it is. You want to make the call, clear the air, end the pattern, book the ticket, tell the truth. Courage, like the Horse, propels you forward, and when it does, the effect can be thrilling.

I think many of us imagine that once the big changes are made, clarity will arrive to reward us. You quit the job that felt a bit wrong from the get-go, and the right one will land in your lap. You end the relationship and immediately feel lighter. You've followed your intuition and now the path to your highest good will surely reveal itself! Sometimes that happens, and maybe you even write a very persuasive Instagram caption about alignment and inner truth. I thought that after making so many necessary changes, I would feel certain, or at least newly energized by my own courage. Instead, I have mostly just felt in between things.

I do not have a clear career path at the moment, though I do have a few interviews lined up and a part-time job I genuinely like. I do not have a great romance unfolding in the background. I am living with my parents who are incredibly generous, trying to get steady again, watching my savings shrink in a way that is terrifying yet simultaneously clarifying my priorities. Who knew "following your truth" is actually rather expensive. None of this is surprising. If anything it's all very much on brand for what to expect after you've blown up the life you knew and the dust is still settling.

When the Gallop Slows

All of this seems worth sharing, especially in spiritual circles where transformation is often described as if it should feel luminous from start to finish, when more often what it demands is patience. If the Snake was about shedding what no longer fit, then the Horse may be about learning what can actually hold your weight. It’s easy to romanticize a dramatic exit, and easier still to get lost in the newness of the aftermath. The Horse’s gallop is indeed exhilarating, but it simply cannot endure. What comes after is far less cinematic: noticing which changes can hold when the pace inevitably slows.